The smell of burnt hair and tires rose out of the Dixon house. Trevor sat on the tattered and stained couch, putting his feet up on crudely made table. He watched static-filled television on a small tube TV with rabbit ears. He ate a bowl of soup with questionable and unidentifiable objects within. "Kenny!" Trevor called to the left of him. "Gemme some more of this!" Trevor continued eating as Kenny called back to him. "I ain't your b*tch!" Trevor continued eating, and turned his head left. "What, you deaf or somethin'? Gemme some more f*ckin soup!" Trevor sat up now, glaring at the doorway. "No!" Kenny called back. Trevor stood, throwing his nearly empty bowl across the room. As he stormed into the kitchen, he saw the door hanging open, and heard distant footsteps. Kenny ran. Trevor growled and shook his head, grabbing a new bowl out of the cupboard. As he went to pour himself some more soup, his phone buzzed. Unknown number.
"Yeah? Who is this? Dixon here." Trevor rubbed his tongue over his rotted teeth as he waited for a response. "Vito Corleone."
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