“Contrary to the many rumors going around about my magical dick, it doesn’t yet possess the ability to unattach itself from the rest of me, lad,” he shot back, brows waggling, as he bopped and rocked around in a pair of pink board shorts and a Hawaii-themed floral shirt. “So, if I’m here, my dick’s here.” “Then go home.” “No way.” He laughed. “This nineties party is my love child.” “It’s not a nineties anything, Gibs. It’s just a party, so tell that asshole on the decks to play something decent.” “No. It’s my party and he’ll play what I want him to play.” “It’s my house.” “It’s my playlist.”
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