“Are you lost, Daddy?" I asked tenderly. "Shut up," he explained.”

“Daddy will explain. Come, he is blowing up monsters.”

“Shut up,' he explained.”

“So you did get it?” I asked, suddenly babbling. “I wasn’t sure. I mean, sometimes we don’t get very good reception at school. But I guess you know that, living on a farm and all.” Shut up, shut up, shut up .He smiled slowly. “Hunter, are you nervous?”“Shut up.”“Are you going to ask me to prom?” he teased.“Shut up,” I repeated, choking on a horrified laugh.He grinned. “I look pretty good in a tux.”I rolled my eyes, suddenly comfortable again. “And you’re so refreshingly modest.”

“Gary, if you want to play on this football team, you answer me when I ask you who's your Daddy. Who's your Daddy, Gary? Who's your Daddy?”

“Daddy is trying really fugging hard to think of a not-terrifying reason why you'd wake Daddy up in the middle of the night to ask that fugging question. But no. No. Daddy does not have a match or a lighter.”