This is Always Awkward

It's a beautiful thing, what happened between your mother and I. I didn't expect it to happen; that thing she did with your furby was nothing if not unexpected. But it all happened so fast, then slow, then fast again.

You have to remember though, what happens in the privacy of the upstairs bathroom, on the kitchen counters, under your grandma's urn or on the front porch while your father is away is just that, private. And if you tell anyone, I swear to an ever loving christ, I will debone you faster than a Tori-Das.

Go back to bed, and for godsakes, burn that furby.