“What’s all this?” Kari asked her husband, gesturing to the wall.
“Just a party game. Like pin the tail on the donkey, only it’s pin the turd in the toilet bowl; and you have a partner that has to guide you.”
“Ooh! Let’s play while they finish setting up dinner, you and me vs Max and Mira!”
“We’ve already gone,” you answer, looking between Miranda and Kari.
“They won too. Mira plopped Max right on the bullseye,” James added, blindfolding his wife from behind as your aunt held her arms out loosely, still grinning. “But they can switch so that Max is guiding Mira this time.”
“Perfect!” your aunt says, smiling in roughly your direction as Mira sits next to you and shrugs. Whoever she’d eaten seems to near his end. The sloshing of her stomach seems to drown out his screaming, or he’s just gulping too much acid to get much sound out. With imprints of arms and feet still visible under Mira’s skin, it’s clear that the thrashing, at least, has only increased in intensity.
“Mira, Max, come spin me!”
