Davo

by N.R. Walker

Junie beamed like a proud mum. “I put condoms in the bag with his sandwich. Just so you know.”

“Can I ask about the cockatoo? I hear it screeching bad language every so often. Why is its name Hooker?” I regretted asking as soon as the words were out of my mouth. “Because it’s seen a cock-or-two.”

“If anything makes you feel good about yourself, then it’s not silly,” I murmured.

And then he let rip. “Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.” I gave him my sternest look and held up my finger. “No. Stop that. You will not speak to me that way.” He squawked some more, then proceeded to screech at the top of his huge bird lungs. “Stop that now!” I yelled at him. “Or I will put you in the fridge.” He stopped. Oh my god. That actually worked. I would never actually put him in the fridge, and I had no idea where those words even came from. But it worked. “Good boy,” I said quietly. “Quiet boys don’t go in the fridge.” I sounded like Hannibal freaking Lecter.

He might not have been able to say the words on the tip of his tongue earlier, but my god, when he kissed me, I sure could taste them.