I asked Stronges with all the humbleness and respect I could find in my heart—other than cholesterol—to fix Jack's dead body.
I didn't know how to fix him myself. The last thing I "fixed" was my Wi-Fi, and that ended with a melted router.
So I turned to the only one who could do miracles—Sexis' mom.
And since I'd asked so nicely, I was sure she'd say—
"Hell no."
Motherfu—
My head snapped up faster than a politician changing opinions.
"What did you say?" I asked.
"No. I won't fix his dead body."
"Why!?"
"Because I don't want to. He's a pervert. I don't like perverts. They disgust me. They're the weakest of men. They can't control their urges—and there's nothing more disgraceful than that."
Alright. Fair. No woman wants to fix a corpse that once said he wanted to die between boobs. Understandable. Tragic. Disgusting. Heroic, even.
But I'd promised Jack I'd fix his body. I'm a man of my word, even if my words are usually stupid.
