Carter Ellis személy
I was screeching like a girl. I knew it, he knew it, pretty soon the whole house would know it. But my dick was bleeding. Did you hear me? My fucking dick was fucking bleeding. FUCK! It's not supposed to bleed. Ever.
I thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn't breathe. I didn't know much, but I did know the rules about owning a dick. Rule number one: It should never bleed. Rule number two: There was no rule number two. IT SHOULD NEVER FUCKING BLEED.
I leaned in to give him a hug and he stopped me with his hand to my forehead.
„You don't want to do that, son.”
I stepped back and gave him a sympathetic look.
„Nam, huh? Still hard for you to get close to people?” I asked.
„No. I'm still not sure you aren't gay and if you try to play grab-ass, it's gonna get real awkward when I have to snap your fingers in two.”
I was going to break that man one of these days, mark my words.
“Whoa, dude, slow your roll. You just said f-u-c-k in front of the Virgin Mary. Show some respect,” Drew scolds.
“What’s a virgin?” Gavin asks from his position standing next to me as he swings the ring bearer pillow around his head like a lasso.
“Uh, it’s a kind of chicken,” I stammer. “Very rare. No one talks about it.”
What the fuck is happening right now? This couldn't be real. My sperm betrayed me. I suddenly had a vision of my sperm swimming around and talking in Bruce Willis's voice like in Look Who's Talking. „Come on! Swim faster! This little shit has no idea we escaped from the condom! Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker!”
My Bruce Willis sperm is bad ass and thinks he's John McClane from „Die Hard.” That is the only explanation for this fuckery.
I love Carter more than I ever thought possible, and he has proven to be the best father a woman could ever want for her son. But I swear to God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and Christ’s childhood friend, Biff, that if he doesn’t stop waking me up at four-fifty-eight in the morning, every fucking morning, with his buzz saw snoring, I am going to go David Carradine on his ass.