"Clayton!" His husband screams angrily. Clay quickly spun his head around to see his fuming man with his fists wrapped tightly.
"Yes, uh what?" He asked confusedly.
"Pass."
The man shook his head. "What?"
"Pass it damnit." Tsavadar said sternly.
"What?"
"Pass the fucking potatoes! You spent all damn day picking them and now you can't fucking eat them? What the hell Cupps?!" He screamed. Clay knew that whenever he called him Cupps he was angered.
"Who makes the rules around here, bitch?" He asked. The boy pointed at him slightly and and nodded.
"You. I'm sorry sir."
"No. This behavior is unacceptable. Bend over."
"But we're eating dinner Cla- Sir!"
"Now." He said sternly. He stood up and the potatoes shook at the table. The green beans swished throughout the bowl as he stomped over. The boy was lying on the couch with his ass in the air. Clayton pulled his pants down and rubbed his ass lightly. He brought his hand up in the air and the boy whimpered at the sudden contact. He whooshed his furry hand against the boy's butt and-
the ants go marching one by one
hurrah hurrah
the ants go marching one by one
hurrah hurrah
the ants go marching one by one
the little one stops to have a run
and they all go marching down
down
and around
down
the ants go marching two by two
hurrah hurrah
the ants go marching two by two
hurrah hurrah
the ants go marching two by two
the little one stops to take a few
and they all go marching
down
around
down
the ants go marching three by three
hurrah
hurrah
the ants go marching three by three
hurrah
hurrah
the ants go marching three by three
the little one stops to take a pee
and they all go marching
down
down
around
and
doWN
