He stopped, finally, and smiled. __onestly? With this thing I think I could get my jerk-off muscles so well-developed that I could rub out a spooge with one pump! If that__ not worth $19.95, I don__ know what is.

Oh God. We__e talking about me being naked, in the shower with cooter cream. Please world, end. Kill me. __ know it__ not soap. I just_ if it__ scented_ I can__ do scented. Flowers and stuff like that. Fruit-flavored soaps make_ things_ burnish._ She could tell from the peeks at his face Mr. Fitzwell had never stepped foot in bath and lotion store, wanting to try the array of fun fragrances. Nor had he purchased Peppermint Candy shower gel, foamed up his nether regions, and felt like he had dipped them in lava. Dove crossed and uncrossed her legs at the memory. Mr. Fitzwell seemed concerned. __kay, just a heads-up. It__ definitely not good to put any fruits or plant life near your genitals._ He made a V with his hands and formed his own pretend vagina in front of his pants. Dove covered her eyes and tried to defend herself because now she could hear the sickly older woman beating her supporters with a purse. Dove__ mumbling got louder with her embarrassment. __ don__ put weird things down_ there. Just make sure that the cream__ vagina-scented. Just plain. For vaginas._ She kept her eyes on the counter.

Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own. __ou hairy toad fucker. That stuff__ nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor._ Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass. ____ sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn__ hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!_ Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum. __his stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it.

Here__ the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren__ gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?_ Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror. __ll I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah._ Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night.

That__ sweet. Nice of you._ Johnson put his hands in his pockets. Dove couldn__ help but wonder if he was massaging a sore bag of testicles. Dove looked around, and Johnson shuffled his feet. It seemed neither knew what to say, but she hoped neither wanted to part ways either. Johnson__ default was always medical. __ow__ your infection?_ Die. Die. Kill me. __t___ cleared up_ nicely._ Dove twisted her hand into her hair.

Don't put off happiness you can have today. Tomorrow is a hope, not a promise