Before he went to bed tonight, in the robe, rotating the twin sets of iron balls, Carlos placed his lips and tongue against the nape of my neck. I jumped in alarm and my hand flew up, covering the computer screen. Laughing, he put set his twin sets of iron balls in their little nests inside their little embroidered boxes. Poking me under my chin, he said, “Hey, what do you think? I don’t respect your privacy?”
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I did not look up. Being around him all the time has become really exhausting. Especially since, since he’s come back, I don’t know why, but I can not sleep.
“Start thinking of your Life and Times, in terms of a ‘Millennial Doctrine.’ ”
“What?”
“And remember, Malcolm, choose your demons carefully.”
“Doctrine? Demons? Since when?”
“Your big sin, silly. The thing you and your followers can never get away from. Will it be sex? Food?” And he patted the cushion of fat that’s been forming over my belt. For ever since Carlos’s return I’ve been nervously, guiltily stuffing my face.
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