The last thing I could recall of my father was how we argued over my decision to quit school and learn magic from my teacher. My last memory of mother...was making her cry. I always thought if things didn’t work out, I could always return home.I turned the key and pushed open the front door. It was a familiar guesthall. Cobwebs covered the ceiling and furniture, but everything was pretty much the way I had left it. The old CRT TV, so retro even when I was a child was still there. My father’s old. I smiled into the camera, "Thanks for the best fuck ever." It's the least I could do after turning your husband into a cock hound," he shrugged."How long are you in town?" I asked."A few days," he said."And how long before that cannon will be ready to go again?" I asked, watching it beginning to go flaccid and thinking it would likely be bigger flaccid than my husband's when hard."I'm almost always ready," he said."I hope you're staying for round two," I invited like a gracious hostess.He. More

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