From Ricky’s side of the ballroom, there came an ominous crash. “Welp,” said Ricky. He was standing with his hands on his hips, surveying the shrapnel of what must once have been a large, fan-shaped crispbread. “There goes one of the wings. But it’s fine. He’s got two. I’ll show him in profile.” Anvita put down her crusty phallus. “What are you even making?” she called out. “Great Dragon Smaug. You?” “Big Dick.” “Nice.”
