I am meeting them for breakfast. I will sit between them because they begat me. Eternity begat them in 1971.
But that was okay because then–and only then–did I become the perfect son. I want to hear stories about pushing daisies and making God laugh.
Godette, however, only laughs when alone with my father.
Godette, who is so beautiful she makes Marilyn Monroe look like Marilyn Manson,
is jealous of my mother, whose son is immeasurably flattered by this.
I should know. I begat Godette.
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