The sign on the tree fort said 'NO GIRLS ALOUD' on it — again!
Undaunted (but trés irritated), I clambered up the ramshackle "steps," nailed into a tree.
"Spanky!" I spat out, at a tone just short of a yell, as soon as my head popped the window into view. "Pull your pants up!" I amended, covering my eyes for not liking what I see, and in the process, lost my grip and almost fell.
"All-ready!" he said, after I heard a zip. Little turd.
"You fuckin' bitch — "
"Hey, lady," he said, both hands up in a vaudeville "lay off me" kind of gesture. "You're 35 — ain't that too old to be messing with the 12-year-olds?"
"No, you smartass little shit — "
Downy's the quicker-picker-upper . . . that's right, bend down and lick the thing, that's a good little girl . . .