“Sorry FIL was an assclown.” Clay pinched my cheek. “And that he wants to raid your ovaries.” “Pinch my cheek again,” I growled at him, “and see what happens.” “Which cheeks would those be?” He pitched his voice low to match Stavros’s. “Wanna polish my scepter? Ride my throne? Lick my crown?” He doubled over laughing until he wheezed. “The last one’s a keeper.” “How about I erase your shem then donate your body to Mrs. Gleason to use as a scarecrow?”
