Madonna announced that she was done for the day. “I’m climbing into bed with Riff n Raff.”

Stephen considered his options, and settled on the obvious one, “Wanna go have a beer?” he asked his son.

Lance rejected the offer immediately, but pretended to be thinking about it. After a while, he answered, “No. I’m gonna have another go at KILLGOD!”

Masking the fact that he was disappointed by his son’s rebuff, Stephen asked, “Are you enjoying it?”

Before the boy could answer, Kitty cut in, “Do you game, Stephen?”

King grinned, and replied, “The closest I get to video gaming is computer solitaire when I’m stuck for words.”

“Really?” Kitty asked. “You’ve never even tried?”

“I have a friend. She’s an avid gamer. She got a new Xbox, five or ten years ago. I guess it was the first edition with voice command, whenever that was. She was impressed as all get out with it, and thought I would be too.

“She gave me a demonstration, ‘Xbox, open door. Xbox, close door. Xbox this, Xbox, that.’ I was laughing my ass off. She wanted to know what was so funny, so I said, ‘Xbox, suck my dick. Xbox, get me a beer. Xbox, make me a sandwich.’ Xbox, of course, did none of the above, so I concluded, ‘Xbox, you suck!’”

Kitty found it wildly amusing. “You’re hilarious. You’re a caveman, but a really funny one!”

Stephen was tempted to ask his son if he was rigt about a man’s priorities, but quickly concluded the topic of dick sucking probably shouldn’t be put up for discussion in mixed company. If he was gonna bring up dick sucking with Kitty in the room, she would be the only one in the room with him.

But King, dirty dog that he is, saw an opportunity to milk a little more fawning out of the nubile, black-eyed temptress, so he gave her the ‘Aw, shucks’ schtick. “Thank you, young lady. It’s always heartening to know that something that fired off in this massive, festering mess of looming dementia in my head has triggered a few moments of laughter for someone, somewhere!”

The King of Horror was wording, and little Miss Kaboobdle was impressed. Smitten, almost. And wanting more. “Massive, festering mess of looming dementia in my head! You know, for a caveman, you sure do make pretty words. ”

King grinned, and grunted like a caveman for a few seconds. Kitty squealed delightedly. “Okay, Grog, since our cohorts are going to be otherwise occupied, perhaps you would care to dine with me?”

Madonna was already in bed, and out of ear shot. King stole a quick look at Lance out of the corner of his eye. His illegitimate son wasn’t going to like it, but maybe the boy would learn something about the perils of rebuffing an offer to converse with one of the world’s greatest living authors, so he said to pretty Kitty, “It would be my pleasure, thank you very much. What was that you had earlier? It sounded promising.”

“The penne garlic vodka mushroom. Yes, it’s fantastic. You enjoyed it, didn’t you, Lance.”

Lance, who had enjoyed the dish, but was not enjoying this development, at all, faked a slight smile, and answered, “Yes, it was great. Ask for extra sauce, and garlic bread to sop it all up. I would bet a nice reisling would go perfectly with it.”

“Excellent,” Stephen said. “Honey, Kitty and I are off to forage for food. Do you desire anything?”

Oh, dear, did she ever! “No, thank you, dear. Enjoy yourselves.” The sound of the door closing tickled Madonna’s ears, striking up Tiffany’s diabetes inducing cover of I Think We’re Alone Now! She crawled out of bed to see if her and hardboy Lance were, in fact alone, and was disappointed to find that her prey had slipped away.




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