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It’s like the sixth time that Pete mentions it before anyone says anything. Joe is in the kitchen pouring a bowl of cereal, and Andy and Patrick are on the couch. Pete is checking Penny’s MySpace.
Joe gives Patrick a look, but when Patrick just rolls his eyes, Joe’s the one who says something.
“Pete, dude. You know that Penny and Hemmy aren’t going to have puppies.”
“Well, not now,” Pete says without looking up from the screen. “I don’t think Hemmy’s ready to start a family. He’s too wild and crazy.” Hemmy snorts and opens one eye when he hears his name. He’s got all four paws pressed against the back of the loveseat and last week’s Billboard is soggy with drool under his chin. He hasn’t moved in hours.
“Well, okay. Point.” Joe takes a bite of his Fruity Pebbles. You pretty much can’t argue with Pete’s ridiculous wish-fulfillment Hemmy-the-player fantasies. “But Hemmy’s youthful shenanigans aside…dude, they’re not going to have puppies.”
“Joe, they’re MFEO,” Pete articulates all the letters, “and when a little chick and a little dude love each other very much, they decide they want to start a family, and they share a special hug…”
“I don’t know if you can really call it a hug, with dogs. Maybe a special…game of leapfrog,” Andy cuts in.
Pete laughs and laughs. “When a little girl dog and a little boy dog love each other very much, they share a special piggyback ride,” he intones in his best serious voice.
Joe rolls his eyes. “Dude, his dick would kill her.”
“Joe!” Patrick snatches Penny out of the crook of Andy’s elbow and cuddles her to his chest, looking appalled.
“I’m just saying, dude. She’s like—under all that fur, her torso is the size of a Coke can. His dick would be way too big.”
“It would, like…pop her,” Andy laughs.
“Oh my god!” Patrick looks down at the ball of fluff in his arms. “You people are sick.”
“Well,” Pete says contemplatively, glancing over at Hemmy’s underside. He reaches down to grab his own crotch. “It is the Wentz curse.”
There’s a moment of silence before Joe, Patrick, and Andy burst out laughing.
“Fuckers,” Pete says, but he’s laughing, too.
“Well, your dick would definitely kill Penny, but I don’t think it's gonna mortally wound anyone else,” Andy says.
“Dude! Oh my god!” Patrick looks totally scandalized now, which prompts Pete to thrust his hips a few times in Penny’s direction. “Stay away from my dog!”
“No, seriously,” Joe says, because he had a point, okay. “Pete, man. Remember when Hemmy was just a little guy and Jeanae took him to the vet for his ‘special surgery’…?”
Pete just blinks at him.
“…And the vet ‘fixed’ him?” Joe continues, making finger quotes around the word fixed.
Pete crosses his arms over his chest. Petulance is starting to creep in around the blank look on his face.
“…And by ‘fixed him’, I mean cut his balls off,” Joe finishes, looking exasperated. “Hemmy is, like…barren.”
“Don’t say that in front of him!” Pete hisses. “He doesn’t know about the N-U-T-U-…the N-U-E-T-R…damn it, he doesn’t know about his N-U-T-S, okay? And he has a sensitive nature.”
“Okay, okay,” Joe says, holding one hand up in surrender. “Just so long as you know.”
“They could find a donor,” Andy says. “Or they could adopt.”
And Patrick, he doesn’t even mean to because he’s not, you know, crazy like Pete is, but he just kind of hears himself say, “Adoption would be nice. Like, maybe some disenfranchised…puppies.”
Pete catches his eye and nods, all earnest. “Like, poor orphan puppies. Or little handicapped ones. Or—oh! Crack puppies!” he says, grinning. Patrick rolls his eyes, but just like always, he’s grinning back.