It's Merge Time!' 'What the hell are you doing?' 'It's Merge Time!' 'That's my fucking _daughter's_ coat!' 'That's my fucking _mother's_ coat!' 'What the _fuck_...?' 'Is that all you can say? "What the fuck"? _Now_ you give a shit?' 'I can give a shit. I can give a shit!' 'Get out of here.' 'Get out of here, you fucking asshole.' 'All right, we're both getting out of here.' And that's when they were out in the alley. They'd never gotten around to fixing the busted door. Merge Time was holding the rakes and the broom in her arms like a baby and all the other girls were there. They were holding their brooms in a circle around her, the bristles up, like a fence. It looked like the bristles were all they were getting out of the day. Merge Time had them all in a circle around her and she had the rakes and she was hitting them with them and they all had a rake in each hand, and they were hitting their brooms against the rakes, making as loud a racket as they could, and that's when they saw us coming. 'I bet you wish you was doing this too, Merge,' Dad said. 'Well, fuck you!' Merge said, turning her head toward Dad. 'You see what I see?' Jack said to me. 'Yeah, I see it.' 'A great day for you, Jack,' I said. 'So,' Jack said to Merge. 'That's your father?' 'Yeah.' 'That's my daughter's coat,' Merge's mother said. 'I know, I know, Merge's mother said. 'She said you were doing the right thing, Jack, and that's what I'm doing too. You can blame me for the rest.' 'You see the way they are?' Jack said to Merge. 'How they act like nothing matters?' 'What's that?' Merge said. 'Come on,' Dad said to Merge. 'I'll buy you a coffee or something, and we'll talk about it.' 'I don't know why you don't just fucking die.' Jack was shaking. I watched him. He seemed like he was struggling to keep his balance. I was trying to tell him it was okay but he couldn't hear me. He was trying so hard to stop laughing but he couldn't stop. 'I got three daughters,' Merge's mother said. 'You can't blame me for the rest. I never cared one way or the other before, but I'm doing this to help my husband, Jack, and you wouldn't know a fucking thing about that, would you?' 'I'd just as soon you didn't come to my house either, Mrs. O'Kane,' Jack said. 'I'd just as soon you didn't come to either one of our houses.' 'How's that?' Merge's mother said. 'What did I do? What did you do? What am I supposed to do? My husband's a fucking idiot.' 'You sure as hell are,' I said. 'You better go on home and do some real work. There's nothing like a little real work.' 'Is that how you see it?' Merge's mother said. 'Well, how's that for a mother and daughter conversation?' She was shouting at me now. 'How's that for a conversation? Get back in the fucking car and I'll drive you home. Let's get in the fucking car and I'll drive you home.' 'Oh, you go on and fuck yourself,' Dad said. 'All right, I will,' she said, 'just as soon as you get the fuck out of here and let me walk with my daughter in peace.' 'We've got a lot of other things to talk about.' 'What things? If you can't talk about your daughter then what the fuck do you talk about? Go on and do what you want. You think I'm gonna spend the rest of my life chasing you up and down the street and out in the alley and down the sidewalk, chasing you out of the neighborhood? I don't care if she is my kid or not, she's getting off the street with you, Jack. Go on and do what you want.' They didn't say another word for the next two blocks and when they got to my house we were still fighting. The sun was coming up over the trees in the west and the first few fire engines were arriving. It was like all the fire trucks in the city were coming up my street at once. You can't see much of anything, but it seemed like all those trucks were going to a funeral, all of them pouring down the street, their red lights glowing through the windows of my father's house. ### 8. Praise from the President (or how Jack managed to fuck things up again) There were six fire engines coming down the street. Dad had called over to the fire house on the corner for more trucks. Jack had gotten them by then, six more or so. You could hear them tearing down through the neighborhood and up and down the side streets, racing over the cross streets, racing to the fire. I don't know if Dad had a little too much coffee or what, but he was still smoking a cigarette, pacing back and forth in front of the house. He stopped pacing and sat down on the steps of my house. He was leaning against the wall and his hands were between his legs and his chin was in his hands and he was watching the fire. There were no firemen walking around outside, putting out their hats and their cigars and so on. The firemen and the rescue workers were all inside the house now, fighting the fire from the windows. There was still a lot of noise from inside the house, but for some reason I felt calm, watching the house. The day was bright and clear and peaceful and it was like the whole world was being turned upside down inside that house, but we'd survived the night and I was thinking about making breakfast, coffee and pancakes and everything, but if the fire was going to stay at bay I'd have to watch it from the window. Dad was watching the house too. The firefighters had rigged a big portable fire hose over the top of the roof. A guy from the paper works' union was carrying out a hose to hook up to it. He kept turning around to check on the fire, watching it with the hose in his arms. The wind was whipping the hose back and forth and it had to be anchored somewhere. I didn't want the wind to pick up any more; the fire was too hot and it was in too many places. The roof was burning. ### 9. Jack's Reckless Rebellion Dad reached down and picked up the shotgun that was lying there, leaning against the wall. He tossed it over to me. I picked it up and set it on the steps next to me. 'You got any shells for that?' Dad said. 'No.' 'I hope you do before this thing is over.' 'Yeah.' 'I need your help, Jack,' he said to Jack. Jack was at the end of the block, down by my truck. He was leaning against the front of it. He was talking to my dad from the steps. He was looking up the street and he was watching the fire truck on the corner. He was nodding his head and looking at Jack. 'Yeah, I'll be there in a minute,' Dad said. Dad came up the steps and Jack turned around and they both walked toward my father. Jack turned around again and kept talking to my father, walking him slowly toward his truck. Dad had one hand in his pocket, and he was holding a cigarette with his other hand. He hadn't changed the cigarettes that I had stolen from him that morning. 'What are you two arguing about?' Dad said. 'The mother,' Jack said. 'The mother and me. The mother and me are going to fight it out right now.' 'The father,' Dad said. 'The father and me are going to fight it out right now.' 'Is that right?' Jack said. 'How do you mean?' Dad said. 'I'm going to be gone when the fire is over,' Dad said. 'I'm going to be gone.' 'You got any coffee?' Jack said. 'I'll be going in a few minutes.' 'You going to fight the fire or not?' Jack said. 'That all depends.' 'On what?' 'On what you've got to say.' Dad had two cigarettes in his hands now. He pulled out a book of matches, lit up one of them and handed the other one to Jack. He lit one of his own. He put them all in his shirt pocket. I could see Jack looking down the street at the house. He was trying to keep the smoke away from his face. 'I don't want you in