She put her hands on his chest and pushed up. “Like hell you did.”
He was relieved. “That takes a load off my conscience.”
She lowered herself and snuggled in. “You have a tendency both to blame yourself for disasters and boast about accomplishments that you are not wholly responsible for.”
He shrugged with her on him. His chest was strong enough for that. He decided not to argue. She really had a more attractive image of him than he had ever been able to conjure up.
As if to prove this theory, she said: “But there's nothing that you can't do. Once you were shown how to light a lantern, you could do it every time. And you can build a cabin too, and kill animals.”
“Me?”
She said irritably: “How in hell am I going to do it if I give birth?”
“Maybe that won't happen from doing it once. You said that yourself.”
“Then we'll keep doing it.”
“You're nuts.” But he had another response between his legs. She tried to stay on top. “You're too damned heavy!” But he easily rolled her over.
“It's time I caught the rain,” he said. And he inserted himself this time. If he was going to be builder and killer, he could be boss once in a while.
Also, he was the one with the protuberant organ.
Woman was God's
second
mistake.
F
RIEDRICH
N
IETZSCHE
, 1895
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