“What size gonad are we looking for?” Diesel asked. “Gorilla gonad or monkey gonad?”
“It’s nonspecific. It just calls for a teaspoon of powdered primate gonad.”
“Eeep!” Carl said.
“I imagine it takes days to dry out a gonad,” Glo said.
“Yeah, and I don’t think you’d get a teaspoon out of what Carl’s showing us,” Diesel said.
Carl gave him the finger and mooned him. Easy to do since Carl didn’t wear pants.
I portioned out the bananas Foster, and Glo scooped vanilla ice cream.
—
Diesel and Carl took Glo home, and Cat and I cleaned the kitchen. Glo had mopped up the blood, but I went over the floor again with disinfectant. This was more for my own mental health than for cleanliness.
“This was fun,” I said to Cat. “Not necessarily the part about smashing Steve’s nose, but the rest of it. I like cooking for my friends. It’s especially fun when it’s last-minute like this.”
We moved to the living room, and I was surfing for a television show when Diesel and Carl walked in and shook the rain off.
“I thought you were going home,” I said to Diesel.
He sat next to me and slouched back. “You thought wrong. I took Glo home and did a temporary fix on her door. I don’t think she’s in danger until four o’clock tomorrow.”
“Me, either.”
“Honey, you’re holding your back door closed with a barstool. Any knuckle dragger can walk in.”
Carl cut his eyes to Diesel and gave him the finger.
“Nothing personal,” Diesel said. “It’s an expression.”
“Can you fix my door?”
“I can fix it tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to keep you safe by staying close.”
“Oh boy.”
“It’s going to be way better than oh boy.”
“Wowee kazowee?”
“Yeah, more like wowee kazowee.”
Carl took the television remote from me and changed the channel to National Geographic.
“What will we do if Ammon doesn’t have the stone on him?” I asked Diesel.
“We’ll go to plan B.”
“Would you like to share plan B with me?”
“No.”
“There isn’t a plan B, is there?”
“Not at the moment.”