Tell Me It's Real (At First Sight #1)

by T.J. Klune

“I’m not going to cut myself,” I said. “Paul could never be a cutter,” Mom said. “He’s too much of a baby when it comes to pain. He’d go the Sylvia Plath route and stick his head in a gas oven like a real lady.” “Bull,” Dad said. “He’d take sleeping pills and then choke on his own vomit.” “You’re both wrong,” Sandy said. “He’d get drunk on gin and fall asleep smoking Virginia Slim 120s and accidentally set the bed on fire.” “For some reason, I don’t think the best way to start an intervention is by discussing the best way for the person you are intervening on to kill themselves,” I told them. “That person might take it the wrong way.”

“You know there’s a homicidal hobo with hook hands jerking it to our conversation over there in the bushes.” “I don’t think I’d touch my junk if I had hook hands,” he said. “How would you jerk off if you only had hook hands?” I wondered aloud. “Easy. I’d get a plain bagel, cover it with lube, then fuck it. I’d latch it into my hook hands and just go to fucking town on it.” “We’re breaking up,” I told him quite seriously. “Then you can go fuck all the bagels you want, you weirdo. Keep your grossness away from me.” He laughed. “Nah. You’re stuck with me, pretty much for forever.”