I’m halfway to being a father. Not 4.5 months out of 9, but ½ of a mating ritual.

“Would you mind washing my feet? I’m a centipede, so it may take you a century.”

“I’ll piss in a cup for you. You can run a drug test on it, or you can drink it.”

“Excuse me, madam, but may I rub my erection up against your buttocks, because I…”

“An empty room holds nothing but memories. At least it would, if I didn’t just f…”