“—wonderful woman who brings nothing but joy and laughter to my life and for whom my heart beats eternally,” Creed finishes.

“Gross,” Otter says. “I don’t want to know what that one thing is.”

“Yes, you do,” Creed says. “Anna can clench her—”

“What are you all doing? You better not be lighting that on fire again. Otter, I swear to God you’re going to burn the house down!” Bear storms over and glares at Otter.

“Try to set something on fire once and you get blamed for it the rest of your life,” Otter sighs.

“Four times,” Bear reminds him.

“Gross Tree Bush Thing is just begging for it,” Creed says.

“Don’t call it that! I paid good money for it!”

“Against any and all judgment and pleadings on my behalf,” Otter reminds him.

“It’s my Charlie Brown Christmas Tree,” Bear says, lovingly stroking the plastic. “All it needs is a little love.”

“Good money?” Creed asks. “Think of all the starving children in Argentina or Kentucky you could have fed with that money. You know, Bear, once you have children, you won’t be able to spend money on such frivolous and hideous things. You’ll need to save for college or bail money and an attorney. I haven’t yet decided what direction I think an offspring of yours would go.”

“And diapers,” Anna says. “And clothes. And toys. And shoes. So many pairs of shoes.”

“And video games,” Creed says. “And alcohol for yourself because it’s going to be the only way you’ll make it through the next eighteen years. Don’t worry, though. I’ll teach you how to day-drink and not look like you’re drunk.”

“He doesn’t day-drink,” Anna says, frowning at Creed.

“I’m drunk right now,” he assures her. “Completely shattered. Want to go mess around?”

“Not even a little bit,” she says.

“Disappointing,” he sighs.

“I read in an article that the average cost of raising a child is over two hundred thousand dollars,” Bear says, looking sad. “Think of all the stuff we could buy if we saved that money for ourselves.”

“Or,” Otter says, “think of the joy when our son or daughter says ‘Daddy’ for the first time.”

“Or when he or she screams how much they hate you at the grocery store because you wouldn’t buy them a candy bar,” Creed says. “And then everyone stares at you because you’re so obviously a bad parent and you can’t control your little spawn of Satan.”

“That was one time,” Anna says. “And to be fair, you told him first that you were going to buy a candy bar for yourself, and that JJ was going to get a can of wet cat food.”

“Fucking with him is the only way I’ll survive since you won’t let me day-drink,” he says. “How else am I supposed to live since you trapped me with a baby?”

“Tyson?”

God, they’re all so weird. “Yes, Anna?”

“Whatever your plans are for Corey and/or Dominic, please make room for Creed in them on the receiving end as well, with me standing by your side. Might I suggest waterboarding them with bleach?”