“Fucking Wallbanger,” I hissed, frozed on the spot. His grin slid off as well as he played place-the-face for a moment. “Fucking Pink Nightie Girl.”

“Wrapped around each other but now clad in a pink nightie and a pair of sweatpants. To be clear, I wore the pink nightie.”

“Why do all men seem to think they need to rescue a woman? Are we not capable of rescuing our damn selves? Why do I need to be rescued? I don’t need a man to rescue me, and I certainly don’t need no wallbanging, Purina-fucking, listening-at-my-wall-like-a-goddamn-psycho coming over here to rescue me! You got that, mister?”

“Fuck, he's pretty.”

“Bring it on home, Wallbanger”

“You really have no idea, do you?”“No idea about what?” “How thoroughly you own me, Nightie Girl,” he said, leaning in to whisper this part in my ear. “And I know I love you enough to want you to have your happy ending.”

“Kittens, lay back. You are about to get Wallbanged.”