Lowering my gaze, I smiled and eased back in my chair again. “Oh. I wasn’t asking your permission, Mr. Barletta. You see, the whiskey you just chugged contains thousands of tiny eggs, each of them encased in a wonderful spore-like outer shell that protects it from the ethanol. In two days, those eggs will be embryonated as they settle into your very nutrient-rich liver. The larvae will continue to grow inside of you and, in another six days, will hatch from their eggs. That’s when the real fun begins.” I watched with pointed amusement as the color drained from his face and his jaw slackened
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