Page 64 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“I meant fabric. Fabric on the ears, not the crotch. Wasn’t talking about the crotch area at all.”
“Neither was I.” He winks and then stuffs his phone away. “But if you want to go there, the shorts were incredibly uncomfortable, there was mild chafing, and afterward, I spent the day in pajama pants and nothing else, no underwear, just freeballing it.”
“Oh, nice.” I nod, unsure of how to react to such honesty other than begging my brain not to visualize it. “I like freeballing it. I mean... not that I have balls. Nope, I have a vagina.”
Oh my God, stop talking.
“Wow, you do? I have a penis,” he says. “What a small world. Although from the picture, you can tell there’s nothing small about my world... err, I mean, my... penis?”
I rub my forehead. Is this what happens when two rambling idiots decide to have small talk?
“So to sum it up, I have a penis, you have a vagina, and we’re aware of both things.”
“I think that is correct,” I say, looking for the emergency exit to throw myself out of.
Frank leans forward, joining in with a hand raised. “We have a penis and a vagina over here as well.”
Dear God in heaven.
Max
“So have you, uh... have you seen a Steller’s jay on the property yet?” My palms are sweating dangerously against the root beer’s metal sides, testing my grip strength. The last ten minutes have been torture.
Absolute torture.
Once we established the body parts we have—don’t get me started on that—for some reason, I asked if she had any moles. Because I told her I thought I had a mole on my thigh this morning, but it turned out to be some of the oatmeal I dropped while eating.
She told me she had no moles, but she has a birthmark on her inner thigh in the shape of a seahorse.
To which I replied, “Fascinating,” and then asked if it was a boy or a girl seahorse. She was unsure, so then I said maybe she’d show me sometime and I could be the judge. This caused her cheeks to flush, which made me think of what I said.
Then I backtracked and told her I didn’t want to peek in her pants. She said she didn’t want me peeking in her pants, and then Frank patted me on the shoulder and asked if I needed a lifesaver, because I was drowning.
When Storee set up this plan, I thought it would be easy. She gave Florence her favorite thing in the world, applesauce, which of course always makes her blow out her diaper. She purposelyforgot the second outfit so Betty had to sit next to me. She set it up. Now I’m just crashing and burning.
For a second there, when I was showing her a shirtless picture of myself and I saw the way she took me all in, I thought I was wooing her successfully. I was giving her all the woo, but boy, did that quickly fail.
When I give Storee the recap, I’ll tell her Betty stared at my pecs and leave it at that. Can’t let her think a poop explosion went to waste.
“What is a Steller’s jay?” she asks.
“A bird that has a black head but a bright blue body. They’re really pretty.”Like your eyes.But I willnotbe saying that.Keep that to yourself, man.
“Oh, uh... no. I haven’t explored the property much.”
“You haven’t?” I ask, my brows turning down.
“Just a little with Uncle Dwight, but I’ve stayed pretty set in the cottage.”
“But don’t you think if you’re going to build this amazing farm, you should know more about the property?”
Don’t worry. I see where I’m going wrong here, picking a fight that I should not be picking.
But who says they’re going to put another person out of business without even knowing the land they’re planning to use? Makes no sense to me.
“The snow is a little much at the moment,” she says.
“Aren’t you from Colorado?”
