“Some men might buy their wives stoves for their birthdays. But I’m not that sexist. I also got mine a lawnmower.”
“Birthday present number three,” he murmurs, brushing my hair back off my face.“I’m still yet to get you anything.”“I got all my twelve the moment you agreed to be mine.”
“Do you need some birthday dick? I once got dick for my birthday—my first birthday, in fact. That’s how they knew I was a boy.”
“For your birthday I got you some batteries. They’re dead, just like you’ll soon be.”
“Maybe I will buy my nephew an aquarium for his next birthday. It’s got to be better than the bathroom sink, which is where my brother is keeping him now.”
“I made your sorrow mine also, that you might have help in bearing it.”