Way to go, Joel. You be you. But I have a question. How can they still call him a traitor if he’s supporting the old school colors? I would think traitor would be more appropriate if he embraced the maroon and mustard.
@Bill W are you taking lessons from me? Spoiling a nice evening with the threat of violence?
Oh, wait. I wouldn’t shoot anybody, would I?
Also glad you’re feeling well enough again to write. Take care of yourself.
I’m glad you liked it. My next humorous story, for the prompt event, also features an animal. Sort of. A mythical animal. Hopefully without the dogs you’ll like that one without a condition.
I didn’t take it that Dylan was forced. Confused about what to do, yes. But he moved closer to Ryan of his own volition. Ryan may have been deceitful plotting the whole thing, but he didn’t drag Dylan onto his dick and force it in his mouth.
He’s wrong when I haven’t written the next chapter or three yet. I have time to make it so, as Captain Jean-Luc Picard was wont to say.
Glad you enjoyed the chapter anyway. I felt suing the Y was the way most people would react, but I severely limited the damages.
The second Wednesday later.
“Ray! Get your fucking ass down here.”
Angus Mitchell was livid. He’d just received an email from some lawyer indicating the Innesses were suing him for Ray’s action at the YMCA a week and a half ago.
“Um. What’s up, dad?”
Glaring at his son, Angus growled, “You’re in big trouble, young man.”
“What’d I do this time?”
“Your little prank is going to cost me fifteen thousand dollars.”
“Prank?”
“The razor blade, you moron.”
“Sh