They’re walking away and talking, “Yeah, so Hunter, I found a way to get the wild Civets to use public Civet toilets. So, I got a hook-up.”  

Hunter takes his hand and says, “I couldn’t tell you no.  And Nancy has a hand written invitation for you to join us  in my safe.” 

And, you can’t tell basic bitches that the coffee has been  enhanced because they come from cat poop? And you  can’t be telling them Sausage party boys that I gotta  magic dick. Imma ask Nancy to give you some of my  sarongs and hijabs. She’d say “Baby, your scarf game is  slipping.” 

He smiles, “Of course not. I got these bags, they all Dame Hov with the gold leaf accents and a stamp that  says, “Certified on X-change the Most Expensive Caffe on Earth. And chicks keep stealing the sarongs she gives.” 

When they left to go walking, I’m still standing with my mouth hanging open, feeling sick, thinking, I drank Cat Shit Coffee. Wait! You and Nancy. Nancy My… …You gotta magic dick?” 

when my phone buzzes. 

I thought about it. Sixty-five pages of smut, how deep  could this rabbit hole go? If the average reader should be  able to breeze through it in less than an hour, I should get it over lunch. At least that’s what I thought. Oh, it was easy enough  reading, but his references, allusions and symbolism  required a whole lot of research. I was two weeks on the  cloud studying this shit. 

I had no idea that being sexually attractive to extremely  intelligent people was a kink. 

The day that… 

…ooh! It was the day I finally read his ass to sleep.  Reading to him and all those children. The day I understood how… 

The moment I became a Universe One, word changed  how I saw me.