Revolting Narcissists: The Viral Journals of Nick Twisp II by Payne, C. D.

of the car. My mind went blank. All I could remember was that it was a van. The make, model, age and even the color had all escaped me. Nor did I recall a single digit of its license plate. I did remember to tell them about the triumphant thumbs-up gesture flashed by the aged perpetrator. I spotted Ned in the distance, but he slunk away in the crowd of onlookers and disappeared. Later, when the cops let me go and the excitement died down, I phoned Dad and told him what happened. He wasn’t pleased to hear that his rented house was now a major crime scene that had made all the local news programs. Lots of distractions, but eventually the holes got dug and the plants went into the ground. I owed it to my wife because they were counting as my anniversary gift. SUNDAY, August 8 – Our anniversary. Two years ago we were getting married in sultry Las Vegas. The contest came down to three girls, and Luco won the prize (me). In truth, she was something of a dark horse in that race. All in all, though, things have turned mostly fine (so far). I got dragged out of bed early to go pick up Dad at the airport. Then he got delayed in customs over COVID matters. He was in a foul mood when he finally emerged with his carry-on. “You didn’t have to come back, Dad,” I said, relieving him of his bag. “I need to talk to that damn rental agent. In person. I’m going to sue. Big time. I want those people out of my house.” “The daughter is very nice,” I pointed out. “That’s who I’m writing the script w