“I feel that we’re in a kind of war—” “You feel? Are you a leader or a poet, sissy boy?” “Sissy boy?” Jarl demanded. “What’s that mean?” Momma K stood up. “Sit down,” both men said. They looked at each other, scowling. Momma K sniffed, and sat. After a moment, Jarl said, “I’m waiting for an answer.” “Do you have a dick or do you just suck them?” Brant asked. “Are you hoping to get lucky?” Jarl asked. “Wrong answer,” Brant said, shaking his head. “A good leader is never snide—” Jarl punched him in the face. The general collapsed.
