“What’s it supposed to look like?” asked Grace Forsythe, stroking her chin and staring at a tall, proud baked column that definitely resembled something but not the sort of thing you would expect somebody to deliberately make on a family-friendly television show. Anvita was staring at her creation much as Dr. Frankenstein may once have stared at his. “It’s Big Ben, isn’t it?” “Darling, technically, Big Ben is the bell. And technically, that is a bell end.”
