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“Wakey-wakey,” this annoying person said to me. For serious. Like, what the damn even?

“Did I ever tell you your morning perkiness is one of your worst traits,” I grumbled as I sat up in bed. Seriously one of her worst traits, leavened only by the way she looks in the morning, all hot and adoring and excited and stuff. It’s not her perkiness I begrudge; it’s the hour and the subtle guilt I feel at my inability to be as perky at that time.

“Just for that, I’m gonna be mean to you today.”

“No, you’re too nice for that.”

“Even the times you call me mean?”

“Especially when I call you mean, except for also yes, you’re kinda mean those times.” I send very clear messages. Really.

“Then let’s see how you feel about this: today’s the day.”

“What day?”

“The day you finally fudge your huggies. Get excited!”

“What!?! No way! I’m … No! I won’t! I’ll … I’ll … run away from home first!” I’m not hyperventilating! You are! And stuff! And things! And no! Just no!

“Daffy? April Fools.”

“Mean! Mean Mary!” Mean Mary who’s looking at me with her pre-pouncing look. She always looks that way when she’s about to – “Oof!” – pounce on me. “You’re very wound up today. Did you know that?”

“No you!” That’s it; it’s official – I’m a bad influence on my wife. And I’ll tell you this for free: she was all on top of me and necking me and stuff with the hands all over all the places and people and things.

“Marrrryyy, heehee! What’s gotten (smooch) into you?” Not that I was complaining. If she woke up this kind of perky all the time, I wouldn’t mind it so much. I’d have bruises from her pinning my shoulders to the bed like she was doing, but I wouldn’t mind those either. Who would bother showing off a hickey when they can point to a bruise and say, ‘This is where my dominant goddess wife pinned me down while she did stuff to me … gay stuff.’ Yep, that’s a story I’d tell at every single holiday party and social get-together.

“I’m just excited for today,” Mary told me.

“Why? What’s special about today?”

“I took the day off. Last minute decision.”

“What are we gonna woah!” Just flipping me over whenever it suits her. The woman loses all her manners when she’s a certain kind of excited. “What are you doing back there,” I ventured to ask as she peeled my pajama bottoms down.

“This.”

EEP! Teeth! Teeth biting my butt! She’s a butt biter. Has been ever since I’ve known her. As for me, I gave her a piece of my mind and just flat out told her, “(Happy shuddering noises.)”

“One of these days, Daffy,” she said when she let me go.

“Wh-youch!”

“One of these days I’m gonna gobble you all up.”

“Ouch! Heehee! Butt biter.”

“Just for that, I’m gonna … (gay snarfing sounds).”

“Yeebus! Marrryyy, that one hurt!”

“And now I’ll make it all better.”

"(Gay sex noises)."

If this is what her hormones do when she’s puppy pregnant … o my god what if we were having an actual baby? I might not survive it, but what a way to go!

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