“What the fuck is this?”


“Well, duh.  It’s an egg.”


“It’s a fat and sugar loaded bomb.  Get it out of here.”


“Brian, it’s an Easter egg.  From my sister.  It shows she likes you.  Live with it.”


“I’m not eating that.”


“Fine.  Leave it.  I’ll have it later.  I’m too full now.”


Brian snorts.


“Mom does fabulous Easter lunches.  You should have come.”


“Yeah, right.  Sitting down with Mommy for Sunday lunch.  Not going to happen, Sunshine.”






“Brian, where’s that egg?”


“How the fuck would I know?”


Surreptitiously shoves scraps of shiny wrapping into the bin.






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