Plastic utensils. Your parents love them. They love them so much that they wash them. They wash them so often the plastic grows cloudy and weak. Prongs break off the forks, their limbs amputated and muted. Stabbing food was never…

“Hey,” I begin, a naughty smile breaking across my face before I can get to the punchline, “Want to drive around flipping off anyone with a Romney bumper sticker?” Kaleb chuckles and beams at me. It seems everyone likes a good girl turned naughty.