Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88895 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
No one holds their tongue – or their farts – around me.
They still talk tit sizes and testicle smells.
They’ve even upped their pranks, although when I figured out they worked with the Slayers to cover my jeep in pink silly string and diamond ring balloons my first day back, I only punished them.
Swapping out rego pracky sweaters so they all had to play in hot pink bride squad crop tops was something that had Hot Rocket laughing until she cried, commanding I take footage of it for soc’.
While they didn’t love the very expensive prank, fans did.
And seeing the consanguinity during the playoff run seemed to add to our momentum along with our ticket sales.
The only major differences that occurred were that Tanner didn’t have to feel guilty for staying in rather than going out when they were on the roadskies – especially during the stretch I couldn’t travel because of my ear – and that I could openly do the cutesy things Slayers get to do.
Like wearing my jersey.
Hoodie.
Our custom designed player kicks.
And of course, the standard kiss for luckskies that never fails to trend during battle season of The Cup.
The Cup which we lost.
Again.
Losing one player to LITR because of a blood clot in his shoulder and two more to IR because of a puck to the eye nearly blinding one and a body check dislocating the other’s hip, we knew early on we weren’t going to make it to the finish line.
But it didn’t stop the boys from showing up.
Or playing until they were literally falling apart.
Or fans from screaming with all they had which was such a magical experience to capture that I’m sad I don’t get to continue on capturing it next season.
Our new camera hire, Marvin Falhaber, has thankfully been so easy to work with that the transition has been rather seamless, and even more gratefully, my replacement, Romella Pascual, has been even easier.
Quite possibly because she’s so much like me.
Which was certainly one of her interview selling points…a lot like her hatred for Ramirez.
We get along fucking great, the boys like her well enough to give her the respect that’s due, and I don’t feel like I’m completely abandoning them to change departments.
Then again, I’m not just changing departments.
I’m going to be helping run one.
It’ll be weird not following Tanner around like his shadow, but I think we’ll be okay.
I’ll still be on the roadskies with them enough while getting our broadcasting department officially off the ground so there will be plenty of time to adjust.
Plus, LMC is in negotiations for steady local advertising for each main city location as part of a broader community building tactic, so whether its with Dalvegan or my family’s company, I can pretty much be anywhere he is, if I want to.
Downside to that is due to the success we had this past season, the womb ruiner, solidified her voice in brand consulting, meaning she could potentially be there too.
Interestingly enough, I haven’t seen much of her since we did the big VIP winner reveal shortly after my return to the barn.
Not even at family brunches unless Tanner isn’t with me.
Can’t say I hate it.
Our tongues obsessively tangle, twirling faster and faster, turning up our lower halves to the frenzied state we should be trying to steer away from in our cooling down process.
We need to eat!
Foodskies!
Real foodskies!
Protein smoothies during the off season should not be a thing I’m forced to consume!
Besides, he’s been promising me wings all day as a reward for not chirping him about his anal-retentive painting preferences.
Like bud.
Get bent.
It’s just a roller.
Not a 3P you need all season.
Aggressive, incessant barking suddenly begins in the bathroom, forcing us to part and redirect our attention to our clearly very pissed off pup.
“Seriously?” whines Tanner while transitioning to more tender touches. “You cannot possibly need to go out already. You were just there.”
His woofs grow in numbers, although it’s hard to say if he’s arguing, or insisting on something else.
“Bear,” Hamster Boy sighs in annoyance, “you-”
The doorbell ringing amplifies his barking indicating that that’s what he was trying to tell us.
“Alright, alright,” murmurs the man I’m Spartan burn down the world in love with prior to turning off the water, “we understand now.” One final, sassy snuff is delivered before he victoriously stomps out of the room prompting Tanner to investigate, “Is it just me or has he been a tad grumpier lately?”
My wet figure easily slides off his, back to the ground. “You would be too if the dude your mom is bangin’-”
“Engaged to.”
“-suddenly moved all his strange shit in-”
“It is not strange.”
“-and kept covering the places you like to sleep with plastic-”
“Tarps.”
“-and spilling horrible smelling wet liquid into buckets-”
“Paint.”
“-that you’re not allowed to touch because the one time you did your mom yelled at you with her whole chest while giving you a bath-”