“How many Californians does it take to screw in a light bulb?” I asked. I didn’t usually tell jokes, but I’d heard this one at school and thought it might impress them. The joke hadn’t seemed particularly funny, but the other students had laughed. They looked at me, expectantly. “How many?” my father asked. “They don’t screw in light bulbs,” I said. “They screw in hot tubs.” The moment I said it, I understood for the first time the double meaning of screw, and something in my face changed even though I willed it not to. Neither of them laughed. “I don’t think she gets it,” my father said. “Oh,
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