I look out my office window, shaking my head at the shit I’m thinking.

“I’m a pussy,” I say out loud, and at the wrong damn time.

“Yes, you are.” Cyrus says, choking on a laugh from behind me.

Xavier laughs out right. “Glad you can finally admit it.”

“Not a damn thing wrong with pussy,” Zandor says on a chuckle.

I turn around and look at the Three Stooges entering my office.

“Do you fuckers know how to knock?” I snap.

“Oh, please,” Zandor says, flopping down in one of leather chairs at the conference table. “Like you ever knock. Every day when we were growing up, you’d bust into the bathroom to fix your damn hair before school.”

“Yeah, and on many occasion, I wished I had knocked.” I shake my head as I pull out my chair … at the head of the table.

“Didn’t bother me one damn bit.” Zandor laughs.

“No shit. You never stopped yanking the crank. Swear to God, saw almost as much of your dick as I did my own those days.”

“I had a hypersexual—”

“Self-diagnosing again.” Cyrus laughs.

“Had?” Xavier joins in.

Zandor smirks, looking down and shaking his head. “Any day now and my kitten is going to have a baby. Tell me, how long before I can get up in there again?”

“She freezing you out already?” Xavier asks.

“Hell no. She’s starved all the time,” he says, leaning back in his chair and linking his hands behind his neck. “C, too?”

I open my mouth to answer then snap it back shut. “None of your business.”

“Not getting laid,” Xavier says to Cyrus.

“Hell no, he’s not.” Cyrus chuckles.

I stand up and point to the door. “We’re done here.”

“She’s almost through the first trimester; you’ll be back in soon, Jase. Until then, take care of yourself. Stop being a little bitch.”

“Back off, Cyrus. This is none of your business,” I warn.

“Sure as hell is. You get in one of your moods, this place becomes a hostile workplace,” he says, standing up.

“Not that it’s any of your business … assface, but since you seem to think you know every-fucking-thing there is to know—”

“Definitely not getting laid.” Xavier laughs as he stands.

“Carly put a fucking Hillary sign in the front lawn,” I finally say.

There is not a sound in the room.

I look at each of them. They all look at me like they are feeling my pain.

“Now, I know I married a woman who has her own views on the world. She is woman. I hear her roar, and I allow that shit because, let’s be fucking honest here, I’m the one making her roar,” I tell them as I begin to pace. “She’s as fucking liberal as they come, but it’s my cock she comes on. A conservative cock at that. We discussed that shit, too. No fucking politics in the house—none—and she has to go and pound a stake in my perfectly manicured fucking lawn. I will not look at a sign in my yard, so I threw that bitch in a ditch.”

“Easy, Jase.” Xavier laughs.

“No. Not easy, Jase. A fucking deal is a deal.”

“Did you shake on it?” Zandor grins. “Like, spit in your hand and shake. You know, good old boy style.”

“Z, I will fucking cut you,” I snarl at him.

“Uh-huh.” He laughs as he stands up and walks toward the door. “Good luck with that shit.”

Xavier shakes his head at me. “Get over it, man. There’s a hell of a lot of things to get worked up about that are more important than who we put in office as a figurehead.”

“The most powerful man in the world is pretty fucking important,” Cyrus tells him.

Like usual, it’s me and Cyrus against the two of them. There is a lot to say about birthing order in this family.

“If Hillary gets voted in, it’ll be the most powerful woman.” Zandor winks.

“Bullshit,” I tell him. “If that happens, Bill Clinton will be the most powerful man in the world again. He’s gonna have to be the one putting a smile on her face.”

Cyrus closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Bad example, man, bad example.”

It’s a damn good thing Carly was off today to hang out with Kiki’s little play group. All I could think about was putting things in orifices and showing her who the man of the family was.

Me. Jase Steel.

Our messages were short and to the point. Fucking ridiculous if you ask me.

When I get home, I am floored to see the fucking sign once again standing in my front fucking lawn.

I stop and look at it again, just to be sure I’m not seeing things, because that’s just fucking wrong, man.

“She has lost her damn mind,” I say out loud as I throw the car in reverse and pull out of my damn driveway.

I hit the home button on my cell. “Siri, directions to the nearest Republican Headquarters.”

“I don’t understand your request,” Siri tells me.

“RE-PUBL-I-CAN HEAD-QUART-ERS,” I tell her loudly and slowly so that maybe she gets it this time.

She fucking doesn’t.

I hit the call center from the steering wheel, and after ten minutes of arguing with them about not having cancelled the navigation services, I find out my sweet little wife actually cancelled it and am told the notes in the computer say it’s because it’s a waste of money.

“Well, let me clear this shit up right quick. I’m the man of the house, I pay the damn bills, and I say let’s start that subscription again.”

“Yes, Mr. Steel, it will be our pleasure,” the nice, chipper customer service rep tells me. “Will you be using Visa or MasterCard to pay today?”

I reach over and open the console, digging through for my wallet. Once I find it, I open it up and mumble fuck when I remember I no longer carry a personal card. Then I remember Carly telling me I have impulsive buying habits and that I should leave it at home. I agreed with her then. Now, well, now it pisses me off.

“I’ll have to call you back.”

“Okay, Mr. Steel, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Hell yes, there is, so I turn on the charm. “It would be very much appreciated if you could send me directions to the nearest Republican Headquarters.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Steel. Sending them right over. Have a wonderful day.”

“You bet I will. Thanks, sweetheart.”

Twenty minutes later, I am pulling up in front of a Democratic Headquarters, cursing at the “sweetheart” who must think she’s pretty fucking funny right now and googling my own fucking directions when Carly calls.

“Carly,” I answer.

“Jase,” she replies.

Silence.

Finally, she says, “Were you just here?”

“Yeah, I was,” I answer as the map app gives me the right directions.

“And you left because …?”

“Really, Carly?” I gasp.

She sighs. “Oh, my goodness, you really are being childish about this.”

“No. No, I’m not,” I say as I peel away from the curb.

“You are. You are a father of two girls, and this election means a lot to women.”

Frustrated and a little annoyed, I tell her, “See you in half an hour.”

“Jase Steel.”

“Carly Steel,” I respond.

“Don’t be so hard-headed. This is a big deal. She is a role model to women everywhere.”

“We can discuss this when I get home.”

“Well then, make sure you pick up dinner. I’m not cooking.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“Fantastic.”

“Ass.”

“And it’s a fine ass, isn’t it?” I say, speeding up.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she gasps.

“That I have a nice ass. That’s what it’s supposed to mean.”

“And I don’t?” she asks, trying to make me feel bad. At present time, I am not feeling bad about shit.

“I wouldn’t remember.”

“Screw you, Jase!”

Now I feel bad.

“Love you and your ass, baby. I hope to hold it in my hands tonight.”

“You have a better chance of Trump becoming president.” And … she fucking hangs up.