I released the can and it stayed where it was, half buried in me. Mom took the 12 oz variety while I preferred the 16 oz. Budweiser in me now. How muc... would my rectum allow inside, I wondered distractedly? This felt pretty damned full. The thought of swallowing it whole made me laughed darkly. Wouldn't that be something?I threw back the covers, scuttled to the edge of the mattress and removed the can. I plugged Mom's machine back into the socket, moved it back into position--fuck the fine. We were talking about the weather. Jeez, if I can't do better than that. I tried to figure out where to take the conversation."So you were saying? About your husband?" Oh yeah. Well, all the stress just built up and we had a big fight and started screaming at each other and I just needed some air, so here I am. A nice night for a walk. I needed the exercise and I needed the space, at least for a while." Ah," I said. I wasn't contributing much to the conversation, but I just couldn't seem to get. More

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