The Guilt Trip [slow updates]

[1] Anteaters And Glow-In-The-Dark-Hair

Open road rumbled beneath the SUV's wheels, producing a rhythmic bumping hum that was strangely more interesting to listen to than the music blaring from the radio. She sat in the front passenger seat, her feet on the dash and chair adjusted to lean back. She'd been sitting and staring at her phone the past few hours, looking up occasionally and asking, "Are we there yet?"

She always got the same negative response, but she kept asking because she knew eventually she'd get an affirmative. Besides, she was bored and it was fun to be annoying.

"Skipper, if you ask one more time I swear I'm going to pull over and leave you on the side of the road."

She stuck her tongue out. "Yeah, yeah, empty threats."

"I'm serious. I'll not only leave you on the roadside, I'll also give up on your little endeavor. Now stop it." Wade glared sidewise at her as he took a corner too sharply, throwing an unsuspecting Skipper against the door.

"Ow! Slow down, madman! Maybe I should drive, then we wouldn't—"

"Maybe if you wore your seatbelt properly and sat up, you wouldn't roll around like a dried pea," he glowered, cutting her off.

Wrinkling her nose, Skipper sat up and readjusted her position. As she did so, a long pink tongue snaked over her shoulder and tasted her ear. "Wade! What did I say about letting your giant anteater run free in the car?!"

"I can't just keep him cooped up in that cage, Skipper! You know that! Besides," he removed one hand from the steering wheel to stroke the creature's furry snout, "He's a good anteater. Right, Charles?"

Charles gave Wade a loving slurp before retreating into the backseat once again. Skipper's face contorted into an expression of disgust. It had been five days riding in the car with that thing, and she still wasn't used to it. She also wasn't used to having Wade as a companion in the car. He was a nice guy, but he was also very irritating. Tell him one thing, and he'd do another, just to get a reaction. He also couldn't seem to keep his insults to himself. And she certainly did not love his choice of a pet. What kind of person kept a giant anteater, anyway?

Speak of the devil, the creature poked his head through the space beneath Skipper's headrest and licked the nape of her neck. She huffed in frustration, turning around in her seat to gently shove him back. "Go away, Charles. Take a nap. Or something. I dunno. Man, I'm insane to be talking to a stupid anteater."

"He's not stupid," Wade pouted. "I keep telling you, Charles is a good boy."

"And what does that make you?"

"The best anteater daddy ever."

"Shut up, you moron." She grabbed the map that lay on the dashboard and swatted him with it. Not hard enough to move the boy, but hard enough to sting. He flinched but kept his focus on the dark road ahead of him, his eyes flicking around to prevent highway hypnosis. At one point he glanced at Skipper, her pale face illuminated by the blue glow emanating from her phone screen.

   "Your hair is stupid," he stated emotionlessly.

   "Your face is stupid," came her predictable retort.

   Wade rolled his eyes. "At least my face doesn't belong to the kind of idiot who dyes their hair glow-in-the-dark purple."

"No, your face belongs to the kind of idiot who keeps an anteater for a pet."

"Stow it, Skipper. I will abandon you on the side of the road. I won't leave you with any food, either."

"But I'll starve!"

"No you won't, not with a butt as fat as yours, Chubba-Chop."

"That does it." She grabbed the can of Monster that sat in the cupholder and shook it, tugging the tab and releasing it in Wade's face. He sputtered and swerved briefly before pulling off at the nearest gas station and marching inside to clean himself off. Skipper used this as an opportunity to seize the driver's seat. When he returned—with snacks for himself and a new Monster in hand—he popped the trunk and dug through his suitcase, pulling his sticky shirt over his head. Turning around, Skipper watched him.

   "You're doughy," she snickered.

   "I'm not, fat-ass."

   "Yes you are."

   "At least I have no shame," he hollered back, flipping her off as he continued changing. Skipper turned back to face the windshield, turning her phone on again and scrolling her Instagram. She wasn't pleased that all the pictures containing Wade had the most likes. Maybe she should just delete them.

   "Get your smelly feet off my steering wheel." Flinging the door open, Wade gently grabbed Skipper's wrist and yanked her out of the driver's seat. Caught off guard, she lost hold of her precious phone and fell, scrambling for the device as soon as she heard it collide with the pavement. Wade simply stepped over her and reclaimed his spot. "C'mon, Skipper. Grab your dumb phone and get in the car."

"I hate you so much," she seethed. "My phone is cracked now thanks to you."

"I can destroy your precious Crocs too, if you want." He held up the filthy white shoes with a look in his eye that said he wouldn't hesitate to leave them someplace terrible. Skipper snatched them and slammed his door shut, marching around the vehicle to climb into her own seat. She tipped it back as far as it would go and grabbed her travel blanket.

"Turn down your stupid rock music. I need sleep."

"Alright, if it means I don't have to listen to your annoying voice anymore." He started the engine and turned down the radio, glancing at her in distaste. "Gosh, I wish your hair didn't glow in the dark."