Here’s the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren’t gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?” Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror.

“All I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah.” Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night.

Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own.

“You hairy toad fucker. That stuff’s nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor.” Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass.

“I’m sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn’t hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!” Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum.
“This stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it.

Dove’s heart broke. He’d been so hopeful until cock rings and butt fucking ruined his career.

That’s sweet. Nice of you.” Johnson put his hands in his pockets. Dove couldn’t help but wonder if he was massaging a sore bag of testicles. Dove looked around, and Johnson shuffled his feet. It seemed neither knew what to say, but she hoped neither wanted to part ways either.

Johnson’s default was always medical.

“How’s your infection?”

Die. Die. Kill me.

“It’s… cleared up… nicely.” Dove twisted her hand into her hair.

Get me your manager.” Dove held her head high and tried to seem older and more self-assured.

The teenager barely registered her request.

“Do it now. My friend here is about to crap his pants. Do you want to smell it?” Dove slapped her hands down on the counter, snapping the life into the girl. “Do you want to smell his shit?

He stopped, finally, and smiled. “Honestly? With this thing I think I could get my jerk-off muscles so well-developed that I could rub out a spooge with one pump! If that’s not worth $19.95, I don’t know what is.