Watch Your Mouth by Daniel Handler

ahead.”
    He sighed and dropped his fork to the plate in resignation. What could this be, that he wanted from me? Some sort of pseudo-fatherly advice, some locker room talk? He was past, way past, the age of worrying about hairy palms or going blind. Pittsburgh had an aggressive program that made condoms more available at school than exam answers, so he wasn’t going to slip me a twenty and wait outside the drugstore while I debated whether his teenaged paramour—some geeky science girl at the lab? a high school flame whose parents hadn’t dragged her to Europe or something?—would prefer something Ribbed for Her Pleasure. “It’s about girls,” he said finally.
    “What can I help you with?”
    “Well,” he said. “When you—how did you—O.K., you and my sister are—”
    Bing Bing Bing is the sound my heart makes when I see you babe. Bing Bing Bing don’t you know that we really got it made. When you walked into my life, I felt my heart sing. Everywhere I go I hear Bing Bing Bing.
    “Yes?” I said finally.
    “How did you approach my sister?” “What do you mean?”
    “When you first—well, when you began thinking romanti- cally—do you know what I’m saying?”
    “You’re saying how did I make my first move on your Cyn?” “No,” he said quickly. “I don’t know. I mean, how can you tell when someone is interested in you? There’s this person. I
    wish I could get inside her—”
    “Would this be your first time?” I asked.
    “What?” Steven’s head followed the arc of the fan around the room. “What? What was I—oh. No. I wish I could get inside her mind, just to know if she’s interested. Because it’s sort of a delicate situation. I mean, if it turns out Cynthia isn’t interested, then—”
    “Cyn?”
    “What? Well, I didn’t want to tell you who she is, but yes.” “What?” The castaway, adrift in the wild sea of Cyn’s family, approaches an island only to find that it’s the slick back of a
    terrible sea serpent.
    “Her name is Cynthia.” “Like your sister Cynthia?”
    “Well, sure.” He blinked, laser-quick. “I mean, let’s pretend it’s my sister, because it’s as good a situation—a hypothetical situation—as any. I mean, it would be a delicate situation if I wanted to approach my sister, because if she wasn’t interested it would be awkward, you know? That’s my situation. That’s what I’m talking about. Hypothetically, of course.”
    “Hypothetically? Hypothetically let’s say you want my advice on how to approach your sister?”
    “Well, Cynthia—let’s just talk about this situation for now.”
    I struggled to find some facet of this conversation I could face, and talk to. “That would be incest.”
    “There’s a better word for it,” Steven said, licking his lips. “My father and I were just talking—what was the word?”
    “Never mind,” I said. I couldn’t believe how easily I know what you’re talking about could come from my mouth. “Forget the word.”
    “It’s on the tip of my tongue,” he said.
    “Forget the word. Forget your tongue, Steven. Surely you can understand that it’s difficult to discuss this situation. Whoever you have a crush on, it’s not going to be like incest.”
    “Well, not if you think of it like that: Incest . But all behavior exists within a social and cultural context. I mean, it’s like what I told you about entropy. Systems are breaking down quicker and quicker through the power of chance. Reactions between disparate parts occur at faster and faster rates, and the way they change their surroundings forces us to abandon our previous assumptions at an astounding rate.”
    “You said that already.” Though the second time around he sings it differently.
    “Yes, I know, but this time I mean it in reference to—I wish I could think of the phrase my father used.”
    I sighed, scarcely audible over the growing T.U.D. “Intergen- erational sex.”
    He snapped his fingers. “That’s it! ”