Page 25 of What Did Your Last Maid Die Of?

“Oh, you’re totally not unprofessional,” Harriet said. “You would never do such a thing.”

“No, I would not. In fact, you know what I’ve decided?”

“What have you decided?” Chelsea asked as she put the slices of tomato into the bowl. “Do you have any balsamic and olive oil?” she asked Harriet, who nodded and walked over to the cupboards. “Grab some black pepper as well.”

“Okay, sis,” Harriet said.

“I’ve decided,” I continued, “I’m going to join a dating app.”

Harriet and Chelsea both looked at me.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to do that again after Two-Inch Harry,” Chelsea asked me.

“Hey,” I said, “it wasn’t the dating app’s fault that our Two-Inch Harry existed.”

“True,” Chelsea said, “but then what about Twelve-Inch Jerome?”

“I mean, Twelve-Inch Jerome would’ve been interesting,” I said, “if he wasn’t twelve inches.”

“There’s no way twelve inches could fit anywhere,” Harriet said. “Not in your mouth, not in your vagina.”

Chelsea giggled.

“But not even in your arse,” I said.

We all looked at each other and started laughing.

“Oh my gosh. We’re crazy,” Harriet said, shaking her head.

“We really are.”

“Hey, we’re the Campbell sisters. We can afford to be crazy,” I said.

“And it’s true. Let’s be real. Who wants twelve inches?”

“I wouldn’t say no to twelve inches,” Chelsea said.

I rolled my eyes.

“You wouldn’t say no to two inches.”

“I’d say no to Two-Inch Harry,” she said. “Maybe you should have as well.”

I glared at her.

“Look, I wasn’t trying to be elitist, and I thought he was joking when he said he was two inches. Remember when you were lying there and you thought that you were going to have sex with him?” Harriet started laughing. “And then he was like, ‘Oh my gosh, wasn’t that amazing?’”

I groaned. Chelsea burst out laughing.

“And he wasn’t even inside of you.”

I glared at them both.

“I told that to you guys in confidence.”

“I mean, we’re not telling anyone else,” Chelsea said, “but I just think that is absolutely crazy. I don’t even know why you gave him a chance.”

“Because he was a really nice guy,” I said, “and he was very good-looking. It’s not his fault his penis was so small that he couldn’t tell if it was in a vagina.”

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