“Whips and Things by David Allan Coe. All three of us belt the lyrics, because it’s one of those songs that should be bellowed as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. The raunchy words send Maybe into a fit of laughter, and by the time we finish, we’re all laughing, just like we did when Lorne introduced it to us in our teens. “I’m going to play that song at our wedding.” Jake grins. “You do that.” Conor tweaks his nipple through his shirt. “Because when I play it at your funeral, I’m bringing a date.”