This is Cassandra. She’s my daughter-in-law. When not pretending to be a giant bug with shiny black eyes and a striped body, she takes care of our boys in Tucson. Someday she’ll be a nurse, and that’s a good thing, as she can then take care of me when I get old and wander around the house mumbling the lyrics to Admiral Halsey while pissing myself. When my son and Cassandra were dating, she frequently left her underthings on the bathroom floor, which tended to upset me. The Nordic Warrior Queen told me to shut up and deal with it. I’m sorry if I made a big deal out of nothing. Cassie has more shoes than Imelda Marcos. She should have seventy-three pairs of feet for all the shoes she has. She hates it when I call her Cassie, and when I make fun of her shoes. I don’t mean to, but she has more shoes in her closet than I’ve owned in the past forty-nine years. It’s something I really don’t understand. On the bright side, she drinks dark beer, or at least she did until Jake made her preggers on our bathroom floor when they visited as at Christmas. Again, it’s always about putting her panties on the bathroom floor with this girl. Today is Cassie’s birthday. She’s twenty-seven, I think. Happy birthday, daughter-in-law. We love you, and we’re glad you’re part of our family, even if you make weird bug imitations with your bra and leave your panties lying about the house. Hope you had a good day.