“You got Dave’s girth?”
“I got it firmly between my hands.”
“Spread them legs.”
“Why am I spreading my legs?”
“Tuck in that tush.”
“Why?”
“And release all of your rage.”
He swings Dave like that vase just cursed out his mother, his lover, and his Mistress. The vase shatters into a spray of ceramic dust, little pieces hitting the far wall and sprinkling down everywhere.
“Damn, husband, that was mighty sexy. I just fell in love with you all over again.”
Jackson whirls around. “Do you think they have a fence I could beat the shit out of?”
“W-Why would you ever want to hurt a fence, Jackson? That sounds like concerning behavior.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Is it?”
“Very.”
“Is it? I have trauma I would like to take out on a fence. Preferably one in our front yard, but seeing as that would beheavilyfrowned upon, any other could suffice.”
“No fences are allowed to be harmed. It’s in the rules.”
“Sure it is. I’m sure you read the rules quite well.”
“I did. What do you want to smack next?” I ask, really feeling like I should get him on track before he reads their declaration that if you want to bring something to destroy, they will gladly host the equipment and the room. The Fence’s very life could be in danger.
“It’s your turn,” he says.
“Ooh, my turn. Okay… I want to try the Racket of Reckoning.” I snatch it up and hurry over to look at my choices.
“What about this bowl that looks like it hasn’t seen light since 1972?”
“I will fuck it up with finesse,” I say as he sets it up while I give a few test swings before I swing at the bowl. The racket’s soft netting doesn’t break the object, but the speed with which I send it at the wall sure does.
“I want one of these in our house,” I decide.
“I feel like maybe we could just come here on occasion,” Jackson says. “You’re already trying to kick my car out of the garage for another gun room.”
“Maybe we just need a bigger house. Or to add onto it.”
“Not sure we do.”
“Pretty sure we do,” I say as I grab a stack of glasses and set them in a row. “Speed round. You have five seconds. It’s about how long Dave can last anyway.”
“Why do I regret grabbing Dave?” he asks.
“I really don’t know. The way you grip him tells me you don’t actually regret it,” I assure him. “You need help with that shaft?”
“I got it.”
“That’s my man. Now… three seconds.”
