Dinner in the Toulouse poly marriage can be exciting.
Everyone at dinner thinks Papa moving in is a great idea.
Mainly because, sometimes, I am a medical mess.
Except Katie. To her, this is beyond a good idea. She looks so happy she is about to burst.
“What?” It is easy to think that Katie is a dumb blonde, rather than one of the smartest scientists ever to walk the Earth, the bio-equivalent of Albert Einstein.
Minus the crazy part. Right now, she looks like a bubblehead with a goofy grin.
“My twenty-five-ish year old evil plan is coming to a close!” She actually claps her hands.
“What?” asks Cazandra, looking confused.
“Babies! Milo would make a great grandfather. It’s what he wants, really, really bad,” says Kate, although it is blazingly obvious who wants the babies.
“I need to relearn how to just be a normal woman first,” I say.
“Oh! Oh! She didn’t say no!”
I roll my eyes, but then I look at everyone. “Yes. I would like to have a baby someday. Not anytime soon.” I give Kate a big grin. “Just warn me before you stick an egg up there.”
She startles as if I poked her with a shock baton. Oh my God!
“Sharon Kaitlin Toulouse! You were not planning on putting an egg in me for fertilization without me knowing about it, were you?”
“Yeeeeee…no. No, of course not.”
I reach across the table, grab her wrist and twist.
“Ow! Ow! Let go!”
“If I suddenly find myself pregnant without planning, I swear to God I will chop your hand off at this wrist and feed it to the beagle!”
“Okay! I’ll be good!”
“I swear,” she says with hesitation in her voice.
I twist and pull. Her place setting crashes to the ground as she comes partially out of her seat. Everyone is looking at me with wide eyes.
“Ow! I swear I won’t impregnate you without you knowing about it first. I promise!”
I yank her all the way onto the table. Dishes and food go everywhere. I pin her hand to the table with one hand and with the other, I grab my steak knife and make a cut on her palm.
I stand on my chair and put a knee on her arm, and I let go. I then cut my own palm, and hiss in pain.
I grab her bloody hand and with my bloody hand, then remove my knee. I squeeze her hand tight until she cries out again.
I let go.
“There. Your promise is a blood oath. We are now blood sisters by honor and deed. The vow is set.”
Kaitlin is lying on the table, smeared with food, drink and blood soaking her clothing, and crying.
I turn to Caz.
“So, what’s for dessert?” I ask, dripping blood on the floor.
“Aaaaand that’s why you don’t fuck with the LT,” says Vash.