Courtney DaCortenay binge-stuffed overbuttered popcorn into her mouth as she slumped on the dying family couch watching the latest flick in her personal anti-valentine’s day horror marathon. The woman on screen was just about to open the door that Courtney knew, KNEW, the monster was behind all slick-slime and glistening artophagous teeth. Her mother floated by behind the couch, flicking the fluff that erupted from the back of the couch arm and sighed as if Courtney had gotten all her popcorn from there instead of from an unbreakable microwavable bowl.
“How can you watch that stuff?” Her mother asked as the heroine screamed at the gnashing teeth.
Courtney paused her popcorn stuffing. “I like it, Mom. I’ll watch something sweet next month. But February has to die in screams and blood. And snakes. I think Saint Valentine did something with Snakes.”
“We’re protestant, dear. We don’t care about saints.”
Courtney leveled one finger and a full fist at her mother. She groaned as one fluffy piece of deliciousness fell, bounced off her pj’s / exercise outfit, and was lost forever beneath the horrid pastel blue of couch. The loss added extra vehemence to her accusation. “And yet, despite our lack of Catholicism, you’re here to talk to me about Valentine’s Day.”
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