Page 58 of Ho Ho Oh No

They exchange a high five, and then Leo does his Clark impression. “Can I refill your eggnog, Eddie? Drive you out to the middle of nowhere and leave you for dead?”

Even fucking Tomer joins in, bunching his lips to the corner of his mouth. “Nah, I’m doing just fine, Clark.”

Cracking up like I’ve rarely seen him, Aaron waves his arms through the middle of our group. “Enough!”

As the raucousness simmers down, Sawyer tips his chin at Leo, an accusatory scowl lightly souring his features. “While I approve of the costume and all the impression fodder it provides, I thought you were doing an ugly sweater. Sammy worked hard on that for you.”

“Sue threw shit on it,” Leo explains, his tone nonchalant, then he tosses a cheese cube into his mouth. His entire vibe says:nothing to see here, folks.

Shep barks out a riotous guffaw, and the rest of us quickly follow suit.

When we recover, Aaron asks the obvious question. “What the fuck, Lionheart?”

Wearing a growing smirk, Leo shrugs. “It’s our thing.”

Raising his drink at Leo, Shep says, “And I thought Kri and I were kinky. You win.”

Another round of raucous laughter.

After taking a few scat jokes on the chin—sorry for the gross visual—Leo finally explains about the times his wife accidentally flung dog shit on him. Poor Leo.

And poor Sue. Not sure I’d be able to recover if I’d done that to Mia.

Twice.

“Well, I was gonna have more of that chocolate cake over there, but I think I’ll stick with pie,” Aaron jokes, channeling his inner thirteen-year-old boy.

No matter the age or background, men enjoy toilet humor. That’s just the way of our people.

Sawyer holds up his plate of partially eaten desserts, swallowing another bite.“You can’t go wrong with anything on that table, man.” He’s been oddly silent tonight while he shovels it in. Apparently, food shuts him up. Good to know.

“Lionheart, save room. It’s some seriously good shit,” Shep chimes in, then cringes when the hilarity breaks out again from his unintentional pun.

Poop jokes! The holiday gift that keeps on giving all year long.

If not for the immature distraction, I’d be gloating over how much they love my confectionery buffet. It’s taken everything inme not to dust the imaginary lint off my shoulders every time someone moans over a bite.

No one has mocked me about the desserts since I haven’t fessed up yet.

Tomer brushes his elbow against mine and gives me a subtle nod. Then he arches his brows pointedly. I do the same back to him, unsure what he’s trying to convey.

If anyone notices us, it’ll look like we’re having a brow-raising competition.

Suddenly, realization hits me like a gong to the head. He’s encouraging me to tell the gang I’m responsible for themouthgasmsof the sugar variety.

Duh.

I blink out of my thoughts when Sawyer attempts to shove a bite of the chocolate cake into my mouth. “Try this, dude. Never had cake this good. I can’t get enough of it.”

Fuck it.

“It’s from the coffee I added. It brings out the richness of the cocoa.”

He freezes, holding still. For potentially the first time in his caffeine-fueled life. His jaw drops, giving me a view of partially chewed cake.

I knock the bottom of his chin with my first two fingers. “Close your mouth before you attract flies.”

Sawyer complies, clamping his mouth shut while otherwise remaining frozen. There’s a certainreindeer in the headlights look about him. He’s even stopped bouncing from foot to foot. It’s unnatural. A sign of the apocalypse, perhaps.

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