SHANNA: That’s why they make warning labels.
I want to call and scream at her because my poor little lady was just annihilated by that damn gel. What if someone else skips the warning? No one should have to go through that. The penguins may depend on the sinking of this product.
But arguing with her is pointless. So I concede.
ME: Fine. Then I name it.
SHANNA: By all means…
ME: Fire Crotch
SHANNA: Terrible name. Try again.
ME: Dragon’s Breath
SHANNA: FFS go with erotic. Not scary.
ME: Acid Flames
SHANNA: You’re missing the point of this...
ME: Vagina Slayer
SHANNA: What is your defect today? Do you want this product to die?
Yes, yes I do. I want this product to burn in hell. Like my vagina. I’ll hold it responsible for global warming if it hits the market and sells well.
SHANNA: Come up with a better name.
ME: Penguin Killer
SHANNA: Now you’re just getting weird.
After a series of several more back and forth texts, I throw my hands up in surrender. She thinks that name would kill the product—which is the point. And it’s useless to continue trying to convince her the product is a menace.
Outnumbered, I am. Bora apparently loves it too. And it’s going to be named Orgasm Lover instead of Pussy Annihilator.
Bullies united.
Tossing my phone to the side, I lie back and stare at the ceiling. Five minutes later, I’m whimpering and running back to the shower, when the aftershocks kick in and my poor little girl starts trying to catch on fire once more.
Stupid gel. It better be one hell of a warning label.
Use only if you like your lady bits to die a painful death and if you hate penguins.
***
Fake period day 3…
Just as I walk out of the kitchen, someone grabs me and shoves me against a wall. Jax is smugly staring down at me as he cages me in and presses his body against mine. Holy mother of sexiness.
“Hi,” he says simply.
I wish he’d put a shirt on.
“Hi,” I say all embarrassingly breathy.
“I was thinking we could spend the day in bed, and you disappeared on me.”