ME: Something's trying to tell me something. HIM: So what is it? ME: I can't make it out because you're always talking and reading those<br>stupid poems and shit. HIM: All right, fine, I'll shut up. ME: No you won't. HIM: You're right. Maybe you'd better deal with it. ME: Maybe you'd better fuck me. HIM: Maybe I would if you'd quit walking around like you've got a stick<br>up your ass, like you're afraid somebody's gonna come up behind<br>you and fuck you in the ass at night as you're walking down the boo-<br>scary sidewalk with all those angry black men and belligerent white<br>men and scary cops and truck drivers and black men and stuff. ME: You little cocksucking animal. Come here.<br>_HIM sucks ME's cock, because HIMs will always suck MEs' cocks,_<br>_regardless of what they were arguing about before. That's the_<br>_great thing about HIMs. Isn't it? That they can really suck some_<br>_good cock, and really enjoy it, really be there. Isn't it? Isn't it?_<br>_Somebody help me out here. I need a counterpart to my running_<br>_narrative, I need an Italic HIM. It's not fair that ME gets HIM but_<br>_all I got is Italic Me. Fuck that. I'm getting me an Italic HIM. Here_<br>_he is . . ._ Italic HIM: Yeah? So what'd you want me for? Italic Me: Uh, duhh! To suck my cock! Isn't that what HIMs in general are<br>for? Italic HIM: No! Fuck you, bitch! Italic Me: Oh--well, that would be okay, too! Italic HIM _[who happens to have big, black dick]_ Well all right then! _We fuck. Well, actually, to be precise, ahem, ah, Italic HIM fucks Italic Me. It's nice. I like it. It makes me pant like a dog and cry out like a baby. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. Please._