For Certain Values of ‘Fun’

“Well that was fun,” Harry said.

“You,” I replied. “Have a very twisted concept of the word ‘fun’.” I hefted the last flailing tentacle into the incinerator.

Harry shrugged. “I’m not saying it would have been my first choice of activities to start off the weekend, but it certainly beat lazing around all day.” He kicked away some necromantic fragment, sending it scurrying back into a corner. Bad form. We’d have to track that thing down later. Unless we just burnt the place to the ground.

I was seriously considering that as the best option. I’d probably leave my clothes in as kindling, too.

“So let me get this straight. Given the options of A – spend the morning snuggling in bed with me, naked, with a cup of hot chocolate and B – fight off an ungodly horror from beyond and its undead servants. You. Choose. B?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Harry said. He punctuated this by tossing the last of the gasoline over the pile of twitching limbs.

“Like I said,” I replied, lighting it up. “Very twisted.”

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