Star:**Conor, you’re forcing me to read between the lines here, but I can figure it out... I’m so sorry.**
Conor:**It’s okay.**
Star:**No, it’s not. It’s really not. Nothing about that is okay.**
Conor:**It is what it is.**
Star:**Who was he?**
Conor:**A temporary priest at our church.**
Star:**Fuck. FUCK. Oh, shit, I’m so fucking mad right now.**
Conor:**Star, there’s no need to be. It was a long time ago.**
Star:**A long time ago? You were seven and that fucker molested you. No wonder you want the Devil to gnaw his cock off. Okay, I’m gonna add to that. He also gets hot pokers and jams them up his asshole.**
Conor:**And he has to use the hot pokers as a stool.**
Star:**So he’s impaled on them?**
Conor:**Totally.**
Star:**Did it happen often?**
Conor:**He was there for a month while our regular priest went on a pilgrimage to Lourdes. It was toward the end of that placement.**
Star:**That didn’t answer me.**
Conor:**I was naive.**
Star:**God.**
Conor:**It’s okay.**
Star:**STOP. SAYING. THAT. Unless you want me to ride into the city, hijack your system again, and come and visit you so I can shake you—seriously, stop saying that.**
Conor:**I don’t know what else to say.**
Star:**Say you’re fucking angry.**
Conor:**I am.**
Star:**That doesn’t seem angry enough.**
Conor:**I AM.**
Star:**That’s a little better. I still want to drive over to hug the shit out of you though.**
A part of me wondered if that would be such a bad thing, but I didn’t let myself dwell on it because I didn’t have time.
Conor: **Can the shit be hugged out of someone, though?**
Star: **If it’s done right, sure.**
That probably shouldn’t give me a boner.
What else could she ‘do’ right?