Gracie: They have beautiful clothes that never wrinkle, but I’m not ready for the Mico’s chapter in my life.
Benito: What did you get me?
Gracie: Condoms.
Benito: Solid idea, but I hate using them.
Me: You’re going to hate a screaming baby more.
Benito: I’m pretty damn sure I’m shooting blanks.
Me: You’re willing to risk the chance?
Benito: Haven’t knocked someone up yet.
That’s my brother’s dumbass logic. It hasn’t happened yet, so he figures it never will. He’s bright with some things but so goddamn dense with others.
Me: Well, that’s a good way to look at it. You’ve gotten lucky so far, might as well try to keep the streak alive.
Gracie: Sounds like a beautiful way to become a father. Lord knows, you only bang the best.
Me: By best you mean anyone with breasts, then he does.
Gracie: Someday you’re going to have a person show up on your doorstep, and you’re going to find out your thoughts that you were sterile were all bullshit.
That sounds like my mother’s dream come true. She’d be over the moon if grandkids popped up randomly and the family grew quickly.
Benito: Not happening. No one’s told me they were pregnant.
Gracie: I’m sure they’d be more than excited to tell you the news after you discarded them like the half-eaten scraps in your restaurant.
Benito: I treat them all like queens, even if their reign is short.
Gracie: You’re all pigs.
Me: Not me. Don’t lump me in with those boneheads.
Gracie: You’ve changed your ways.
Me: I’ve never been like those two.
Benito: We’re not monsters.
Vito: We’re lovers.
Gracie: Whatever.
Me: B, I’m bringing Chloe over for dinner in a bit as soon as she closes up the store.
Benito: I’ll make something special.
Me: Thanks, bro.
Gracie: I’m starving.
Vito: Me too.
Gracie: Why don’t we all go?
