“You’re late,” I snarled, torn between kicking her out and giving her something substantial to choke on. “Oh, come on.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Only two minutes late. Are you seriously going to be a vagina about it?” “A vagina?” “The fleshy pink canoe between a woman’s legs.” She panted, trying to catch her breath. “I know it’s been a while since you paddled one, but surely you remember what it is.” “I do remember. Quite fondly.”
