It’s every child’s worst nightmare. An image that will be carved into one’s brain for all eternity, irregardless of intensive therapy or Alzheimer’s. I am one of the lucky ones. In the 18 years I’ve lived under my parents’ roof, I’ve never saw, heard, or suspected my parents slapping skins. No viagra pills, no springs squeaking on my dad’s birthday, nothing. Looking back, it kind of makes me sad. But mostly, just grateful. I am not entirely innocent though. I walked in on my dad butt naked after a shower and tried to convince him to donate those pubes to Locks For Love. Holy shit, I’ve seen landscaping at an abandoned insane asylum better kept than that. Shit looked like a chia pet. My mom would need a weed whacker to even find that pecker. Far too much work for three uninspired pumps.