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“My girl.” I slapped a hand against my nose, itching the scratch, or scratching the itch.
I didn’t know about anything anymore, but I felt fucking great.
“See, Da?” I slapped my chest. “Boom, fucking boom, boom.”
“What’s he talking about, John?”
“God only knows,” my father replied, sounding thoroughly amused. “But it’s the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”
“My dick works again, Ma,” I chuckle-slurred. “Da checked. My balls are there, too.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Ma muttered.
“It’s okay,” I cooed, mashing my lips together. “She’s sixteen now, and I’m—” I slapped my forehead. “Seventeen.”
“What are you talking about, Johnny?”
“The fractions, Ma,” I groaned. “They’re closing in.”
“Fractions of what, love?”
“Not too much longer to wait.” I sighed. “Thank fuck, ’cause I’m in love.”
“You’re in love?”
I nodded happily. “And she’s a river.”
“Well, that’s…lovely, pet,” Mam coaxed, sounding confused. “Good boy.”
“I’m gonna sail my boat down her river,” I snickered. “My dick boat.”
“Can they knock him back out?” Ma grumbled. “He’s going to give me a stroke with all this talk.”
“It’s okay, Ma,” I coaxed. “I’m gonna keep her, too. Make all my babies with her because my balls work—and Da says I can pull on my dick again. Woo!”
“John!” Mam gasped. “What have you been telling our son?”
Dad laughed. “He’s seventeen, Edel. It’s the first thing he’s going to ask about after a surgery like that.”
“Oh, dear Jesus,” Mam groaned.
“And I’m gonna buy her a ring…and a dog…and sail a boat…and I’m gonna look at her tits because I can.” I sighed in contentment. “She’s got the best tits, Da.”
“Knock, knock,” a familiar voice called out, followed by more light and more doors clicking. “How’s the patient?”
“Gerard,” Mam sighed happily.
“Gibs!” I called out, searching the room for my best friend and coming up empty. “Gibs, man. The fuck kind of drugs did you slip me?”
“He’s very…high right now, Gibs,” Dad explained. “Don’t take any notice of what he’s saying.”
“Is that right?” Gibsie chuckled. “Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”
“They fixed my dick, Gibs.” With a great deal of effort, I managed to hold a thumb up and wave my hand around aimlessly. “Happy days.”
“Woo-hoo,” Gibsie cheered, catching ahold of my hand. “Best news I’ve heard all year.” He squeezed my hand. “You know what that means, don’t ya?”
“Shifting jackets,” I slurred.
