. “No, seriously. No problem. She’s a peach.”“Yes, I call her my little peaches sometimes.”“She told me. Thought I’d tease a bit.”“U...derstood. Well, I’m Fred, Fred Frost. My wife is Gladys. We’d appreciate your help with her.”“OK, Fred. I’ll do my best.”“Thanks again. May I speak with her?”“Here she is.” I handed the phone back to her.“Yeah? – He will? OK. – I will. Just if we’re on schedule, right? – OK. Love you, Daddy. Have fun. Thank you! Byeee.” She pushed the phone off. “He told you, I’m. . "You good with that, Bitch?" Pop prompted. "Maybe you want the kids to see you go down?" She'll do to witness you eating crow, Superman! Let's go! I've got things to do!" Irma snarled."Go ahead, Man," Pop directed. Arthur stood and deliberately unzipped his trousers, then lowered them to the floor. He looked first at Irma, then Frieda, then shucked out of his boxers. Pop took a look and grunted, "You suck, there, White Supremacist Bitch? Mebbe you wanna fluff him a bit before the. More

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