“Go over them again, Davey,” says Bongo McTweedlepants warningly.
Profoctor Davey sighs. “Fine. No cussing, although I never cuss and if I did they’d bleep it.”
Davey pulls the list from his wallet. “No reading from my dissertation on eugenics. No putting the kids’ names in limericks. No giggling when I quote Balzac. No discussing forced sterilization for Kentuckians. Okay? I promise!”
“Okay,” says Bongo, still edgy. “Terry, are we almost live? Okay, cue music.”
“But I can talk about euthanasia for the colorblind, right?” says Davey, as soon as it fades.
“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST,” says Bongo.