As I handed the menus back to her, I noticed Kit shifting in his seat. Again. “Are you OK?” I asked. “Something’s not right with my ass,” he replied. “I feel like I’ve got a golf ball lodged up there.” “A . . . golf ball?” I worriedly shot back. “Yes,” he confirmed, before picking up on the fear in my eyes. “Bodge, come down off the ledge. It’s probably just a big hemorrhoid.”
