“Thank you, Miss Becky,” I sobbed.
“You are welcome, Charles,” she said dropping the key in front of me.
“Oh my god she is really going to let me…?”
“Miss?” I questioned, looking up at her.
“Do you think that you have a lot of c*m backed up in there by now?” she asked.
“A lot? It was covering my eyeballs for crissake.”
“Yes, Miss,” I said carefully.
“I mean do you think we have waited long enough for you to have one of those really extreme blast offs that you talk about?”
“Oh god yes yes yes.”
“I think so, Miss,” I ventured.
“Think so?” she laughed. “Because if you’re not sure…”
“Oh s**t no, please don’t stop me, please.”
“I’m sure, Miss,” I said hurriedly.
“Oh, so now you’re sure?”
“I’ve been sure for three hundred eighty-seven days,” I thought, “but you keep frustrating me
