Forked (A Lighthearted Utensil Romance, #1)

by Ruth Cardello

Holding the fork in one hand, I meet my cat’s gaze. “This is why I have to have sex with someone, Mike. I’m beginning to find inanimate objects sexy. I watched a video once about some guy who found his car attractive—really, really attractive.

ohhhhh boy

I don’t like to watch anything sad because reality is often sad enough.”

so true forked

“I’m strong. Maybe too strong. All of us were afraid to have sex after our treatments because we didn’t want to hurt anyone. We vowed to wait until we knew a woman could survive it.”

bro you are a FORK WHAT IS HAPPENING

“I can regrow limbs.”

why would he be given a power he can’t use as a fork….

“I don’t have any money.” I roll my eyes. “That makes you no different than the last two men who asked me out.”

READ HIM

“If he’s not up to your standards . . . what would you do? Fork him up?”

I didn’t fight to free the world to agree to be coddled like a child.

man just put your seatbelt on

“We haven’t met,” he says to Hugh, “but I heard there was a man living with Mercedes. Nice to finally meet you. I’m Greg.”

WHAT

NOT FIGHT CLUB LMAOOO

I knew you lived with someone so I didn’t want to get involved. I thought when Mike said you were single . . .”

HOW ARE PEOPLE TALKING TO THIS CAT

“Am I crazy if I take the fork with us on the jog?”

yes

“I’m also morally gray enough to help you fend off your enemies and never need to confess where we bury the bodies.

💀💀💀💀💀

“If you’re fucking crazy and need to be institutionalized, I’ll get myself diagnosed so we can be together.”

L M F A O

“I can crush a man’s skull with my bare hands.” “Let’s not do that.”

I have not stopped laughing

“If I try to prove to you that I really am sometimes a fork, will you promise me something?” He’s looking down at me like I’m the only woman he ever or could ever want, and I don’t have the strength to deny him. “Anything.” “If you have to fuck me again to bring me back . . . do it.”

I would like to speak with the author of this establishment

Oh, my God, he really is a fork. My fork. I fucked my fork. I was forked.

BWIQQBWJQJQBQGQIAUA

“You sure you want to be with a fork?” There’s a vulnerability to him that melts my heart. “It’s too late to ask myself that.” I trace the side of his face. “I’m already forked.”

if you’re a fork i’m a fork <3

Don’t even feel bad for him. He totally milks the whole “I can’t revert back unless you’re intimate with me” thing. Sometimes he’ll look me in the eye, wiggle his eyebrows playfully and BING he’s a vibrating fork again. The little stinker.

I am weeping

“Can we have children? Would that be safe? Would I be birthing cutlery?”

LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO