“It’d probably taste like peas and carrots too,” Corey says.

“At least it’d be good for you,” I say. “Maybe that’s what the mashed peas baby food is.”

“That is foul and offensive,” Corey says. “Most likely correct as well.”

“Thank God this is already starting,” Bear says. “We’ve been home for a minute and we’re already discussing the Jolly Green Giant jacking off for baby food. For once in our lives, could we please have a normal conversation before we enter a social gathering?”

“Bear’s just upset because now that’s all he’s going to think about,” Otter explains to Corey. “It’ll probably make him feel a tad bit aroused.”

“Gross!” I groan. “I do not want to think about Bear getting turned on because of the Jolly Green Giant. Or for anything. You guys keep your weird role playing to yourselves.”

“We don’t role-play Jolly Green Giant!” Bear says, sounding insulted. “Canned-food-mascot sex is not one of my kinks.”

“You have kinks?” Corey asked, ears perking up. “Dish. Now.”

“Never in your dreams,” Bear assures him.

“You can tell me,” Corey says. “I’d listen.”

“That’s my brother,” I say as I smack him. “And my Otter, who is my sort of dad-brother. That is not okay.”

“We could get, like, a green body suit,” Otter tells Bear. “And tape green leaves and asparagus to you or something. That’d be kinda hot.”

“This is why I have to go to therapy,” I say to Corey. “Because of stuff like this. It happens all the time.”

“You want to tape asparagus to me?” Bear asks. “I could probably get into that.”

“It’s good to know that even old people can get funky,” Corey tells me. “Gives me hope when I’m their age in like forty years.”

“That was probably not the best thing you could have said,” I say as Bear starts to sputter indignantly.

“Old? I will punch your kidney right out of your body, you little—”

“He won’t really,” I say. “He just likes to sound tough. He couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Isn’t it normally wouldn’t hurt a fly?”

“Normally. But this is Bear. He couldn’t even do that.”

“Once again,” Otter says, “I don’t quite know how we got to this point.”

“That seems to be a common occurrence with you guys,” Corey says. “I can’t wait until we go to dinner. I’ve heard Bear gets loaded on wine and cries, and then the whole thing dissolves into a big case of what-the-fuckery where everyone talks at once, and it usually ends in overshared feelings and hugging.”

“That was one time!”

“What about the Kid’s high school graduation dinner?” Otter asks.

“And when you got that teaching contract?” I ask.

“And when the New Yorker bought that photo of that homeless encampment I took?” Otter says.

“And when I made the dean’s list my first year?” I say. My first and only time.

“I might have a drinking problem,” Bear mutters.

“And an emotional-style vomiting problem,” Otter says.