Life is short and tough and I'm going to roll it in sugar, squeeze it until syrup drips from my fingers and enjoy the fuck out of every last drop, even as it kills me.
This is the plan? Loch asks, his eyebrows raised. He has the most glorious bedhead popcan-width red curls this morning. I lay in bed this morning wrapping his hair around my wrist. Three times before he mock-squeals and I laugh. It's getting long. Hope he leaves it. But then three different boys already quoted from Brave as they saw him.
And such lovely, flowy locks...
We can't just run away from whoever we are!
Never craft where you conjure!
(Now he'll cut it for sure. Thanks, boys.)
Yes, this is the plan. To enjoy every last minute.
The last time you said this you were halfway through a burrito in some sort of Mexican ecstasy and I had to roll you to back to the truck in a fugue state, he smiles dreamily.
Exactly. Eat the burrito! Roll back to the truck! Fuck the calories. Fuck the waiting, counting, watching, checking.
Right. Fuck the rules!
Fuck 'em! Right in the-
Bridget!
Fuck 'em in the Bridget? Ow!
No, I thought you were going to say something else.
Also, stop censoring our words!
Hell, yeah! Except...
What?
I hate it when you say that one.
Which one?
The one you were about to say.
Ass?
Oh. You were about to say 'Fuck 'em in the ass'?
Yes?
Okay nevermind then.
