Free The End of FUN by Sean McGinty

want any of it. But you know who could use some help right now? Dad. Have you thought about him? I’d split it with him, if I were you.”
    â€œOh—wait.” I held up a hand. “
I
get it.”
    â€œGet what?”
    â€œIt’s all so very clever.”
    â€œ
What’s
clever?” she said. “What are you even
talking
about?”
    Yes, it was clear to me now: they’d discussed this. Planned it out. Hatched a clever plot. Evie and Dad would each say they didn’t give a shit for themselves and instead ask for a portion on the other’s behalf. It was actually pretty brilliant. They could each present their case as if they were only acting out of concern for the other. And here was the
really
clever part: if I refused,
I
was the asshole.
    â€œWow,” said Evie. “Just—wow.” She scratched her ankle. The little dots were, like,
glowing
red.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDad’s paying for your school! Or have you forgotten? And now you have the
nerve
to sit there and act like it’s somehow
crazy
for me to suggest that you share some of the inheritance with him?!”
    Here’s the thing about my sister: it’s a good idea to avoid pissing her off. She looks harmless and all, but there’s a fire burning in that dork. The other problem is, she’s usually right.
    â€œLook,” I said. “Fine. Whatever. It’s cool. I was going to share it anyway. I’m just maybe a
little
ticked off that everyone’s always telling me what to do before I even get a chance to think about it. It’s like everyone assumes I’m gonna be an asshole about everything.”
    Sam came back with more cookies.
    â€œNo one assumes you’re an asshole, Aaron,” he said. “Have a snickerdoodle.”
    I grabbed a cookie. “Everything’s just been happening really fast lately. I didn’t know what I was stepping into. Also, I don’t care what the will says, I’m not taking a retarded dog with me back to San Francisco.”
    â€œSan Francisco?” said Evie. “Why are you going to
San Francisco
? And the dog’s not retarded. It has PTSD.”
    I told her I meant
Sacramento
, and she didn’t seem too suspicious, maybe because she was still so pissed off about me calling the dog retarded.
    â€œAnyway,” she said, “I think Dad’s going to keep the dog.”
    â€œIt’s been quite a little journey for all of us,” said Sam.
    â€œWhat’s that mean?” I asked.
    Sam turned to Evie. “Are you going to tell him, or do I get to?”
    My sister frowned. “You mean about the vet’s?”
    â€œI mean the
freezer
,” said Sam.
    â€œWhat about the freezer?” I said.
    â€œCheck it out,” said Sam.
    â€œNo! Don’t,” said Evie.
    I went to check it out—a Frigidaire ® v180 with frostguard ™ (YAY!). Inside, where the frozen peas or whatever should be, there was a single yellow bag, and on it was written the word BIOHAZARD in red capital letters.
    â€œYou don’t want to open that,” said Sam.
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œ
Because
,” said Evie. “When you see a bag that says
biohazard
, you do not open it. Common sense.”
    â€œYes,” said Sam, “but is it also not common sense to
not
store biohazardous materials in a residential kitchen freezer? I can never unsee what I saw!”
    â€œWhy? What’s in there?”
    â€œPuppies,” he said.
    â€œPuppies?”
    â€œFor the record I did not authorize this. I told your sister that freezer is a public space, and she
knows
how much I like my frozen pizzas and ice creams and bagel dogs. Oh my God—did I just say that? Bagel DOGS? Anyway, yes, after she heard about the abortion mistake, dear sweet Evelyn marched down to the veterinarian’s office and demanded to be given the puppies.”
    â€œIt was so awful! They deserve a proper