Page 77 of Whiskey Splash

Esme:Welcome to my life.

Desmond:I’m surprised she didn’t devour you in the womb.

Esme:Me too! But remember, she’s your favorite wing-man.

Desmond:I may have to fire her.

Esme:You can try. But you’ll probably have to get a restraining order.

Desmond:How did you ever survive high school? Or college?

Esme:Lots of therapy.

Desmond:And you seemed so normal.

Esme:You knew that wasn’t the case from day one. Pimp out my sister for a Yelp review, remember?

Desmond:Best blind date of my life. Only, it wasn’t a blind date, so much as an ambush.

Esme:If it’s any consolation, she’s just trying to get you laid.

Desmond:Was it the “ream my sister” or “hot throbbing man-pike” part that clued you in on that?

Esme:If it makes you feel any better, my prude-shaming text messages include—and Ialso quote:

“Dust off that ancient vagina and start cleaning the cobwebs with that womb broom.”

“Did you say Desmond’s movie is about monsters off the coast of Hawaii? Because you should have been torpedoing his eel weeks ago.”

“I’m pretty sure Desmond can do two person push-ups with his eyes closed. You better be signing up for private lessons.”

Desmond:*Private* lessons?

Esme:Oh yes, puns and all.

Desmond:For clarification, if I actually “ream you with my man-pike” do the text messages from your sister stop?

Esme:No. Then she’ll start asking for detailed descriptions.

Desmond:Of course she will.

Esme:If you never want to speak to me again, I’ll understand.

Desmond:Again, how did you survive the last twenty-six years of your life?

Esme:In a constant state of humiliation.

Desmond:And you choose to live near your sister? You could fly across the globe and change your name? Assume another life?

Esme:That’s love for you. Yes, I often want to kill my sister. But, I love her more.

Desmond:You realize, that’s the sweetest thing you could have said.

Esme:I’m the sweet one. She’s the heathen.

Desmond:You’re a really good sister.

Esme:I’m sorry if she embarrassed you.

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