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She cackled. "And let me guess—you made sure he knew it."

"I sort of had a panic attack because of it."

"The can’t-breathe kind of anxiety, or the Tea Special?"

I groaned. "Dare I ask what that means?"

“Oh, well, it's this thing you do when you freak out with worry for someone. You turn into Super Cunt."

I choked on my own saliva and started hacking. "Excuse you?"

She patted me on the back. "There there, there there."

I rolled my back to get her to stop. "Knock it off. And take that back."

"Tuh-nuck reh-pooss."

"What?"

"Super Cunt, backward.”

"Tania!"

"I'm just giving you shit, but it is something you do. You get worried about someone and turn…prickly."

"Prickly."

"You got all butt-hurt about the C-word, so yeah, prickly."

"You called me a super cunt, Tania. I think offended is the correct response."

"Did you or did you not tell him how stupid and irresponsible he was?"

"I…may have."

"And did he or did he not go clam diving?"

“I’m not discussing this with you unless you can conduct an adult conversation about it without the disgusting and juvenile euphemisms."

"He went muff diving. Ate at the Y. Munched a rug. Ate the tuna taco. Had a fur burger. Knelt at the altar of love. Lapped your labia. Went pearl diving—I love that one."

"TANIA!" I shouted. "STOP! Jesus."

"I have so many more."

"I'm good, really."

"But he did."

"Yes! I said so already."

"And was it magical? Did you see Jesus? Because I also know you don't typically like getting head even more than you don't like giving it."

"It…was magical, yes. I dunno if I saw Jesus, but maybe an ancestor or seven."

“Or seven? Damn. Maybe he can give my boyfriend pointers, because I've only ever seen stars. Not even a distant relation."

"Boyfriend?”