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“That’s… rather specific.”
“Me and the boys at the station looked up the website of the sex-toy shop setting up house at Pinkies tonight, and that’s the kind of doodads we found. How in the hell are we supposed to compete with that?”
“You know, I’m more of a numbers man…”
“I say we stage a protest. Refuse to have sex for a few weeks and see how they like that.”
Jesus, Lucas would have bet his entire cash savings they weren’t having sex. At. All.
He rubbed his face with his hand and mentally filed this situation under “uncharted territory” in a folder marked “conflict resolution scenarios.”
Lucas pulled from other folders in his brain. “Maybe having a conversation is in order? You know, asking them about their, I dunno, feelings.”
“Feelings about what? The inadequate size of our dongs?”
Dear God. Make it stop.
Just as Lucas pulled the first bowl out of the microwave, the doorbell rang.
Whomever it was, a UPS delivery person or a Jehovah’s Witness, he was eternally grateful for the interruption and ready to provide a sizable tip or donation for their trouble.
“I’ll get that,” Chief offered, sliding off the chair.
