“Mom.”
“Honey, I just think—“
“Mom.”
“Clarice, your father and I don’t want you getting hurt. He’s… you just have to accept that he’s—”
“Why would I get hurt? He loves me.”
“Clarice, he’s not human.”
“I noticed.”
“Clarice—“
“I’m saying: be assured that in the nine months Klek and I have been dating I’ve noticed that he’s not human. Christ, mom: he has green skin. He has twelve fingers and eight toes. I notice that he’s not human all the time. Especially in bed. Seriously. We’re anatomically compatible, but barely. And I mean that in a good way.”
“Clarice!”
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