“What do you think?” Alyssa asked Auguste.

“I like your outfit.”

“No, you duffus. My painting. For the senior art show?”

“It’s very, um ... I’m not sure what it is. But it has...”

“Flair? Power? Prescience?”

“Prescience? What’s that?”

“You’re stalling, Auguste. You hate it, right? You can tell me.”

“Okay, well, um, it reminds me of a dog’s ... you know.”

“What?”

“A dog’s pizzle.”

“What’s a pizzle?”

“Penis. A dog’s penis.”

“Why don’t they just say penis?”

“I don’t know. To be polite?”

“Interesting.” Alyssa curled her lips as she looked at the painting. “It started out as a banana. The tip of it after it got cut off for my morning cereal.”

“A banana, huh?”

“Just the tip. I sliced the rest into my Cheerios.”

“Pretty big for a banana,” Auguste commented.

“What about for a pizzle?”

“I guess it depends,” Auguste said.

“On what? Whether the pizzle is erect?”

“I was thinking more about what kind of animal. For a bull or a horse I guess it could be about the right size.”

“Erect?”

“You’re funny,” Auguste said.

“No, I really want to know. What about a guy’s pizzle?”

“Erect?” Auguste offered.

Alyssa laughed. “You know I’ve never seen one. Not in real life.” She gave Auguste a hopeful look.

“If I show you, you won’t paint it?” Auguste said.

“Cross my heart.”

“And you won’t cut it off?”

Alyssa laughed.