“Fuck, marry, kill,” he blurted quickly, the words puncturing the night air with their immediacy. “Mork, Balki, ALF.”
There was a discernable pause. Far off in the distance, a train blew its whistle.
“I’d fuck ALF, marry Balki, and kill Mork,” she answered with little to no emotion. It was all he could do to keep from choking on his tongue.
“You’d fuck ALF?”
“Well, it would only be the one time, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” he relented. “I guess I don’t see the logic in marrying Balki. There are so many episodes of ‘Perfect Strangers’ where he gets duped and Cousin Larry has to come to the rescue. At least ALF is smart, he’s savvy…he tricked that blind lady that one time and he always convinced the Tanners to do what he wanted.”
She was quick to offer the obvious counterpoint.
“But if you were married to ALF, you’d have to have sex with him, like, repeatedly, because you’d be married.”
“Look,” he said, turning his steely blue eyes to face her. “ALF is a fucking alien. You can’t assume he’d be attracted to me, and I’m not attracted to him. We’re different species. Ours would be a marriage of convenience. He’s a smart alien with strange powers, I’m a human who can go to the store and get stuff without having to wear a disguise. We’d have an open thing. Besides, the story is that married people don’t have a whole lot of sex anyway. So, whatever.”
“Is Balki gay?” she asked, sounding as innocent as a toddler.
“No, he had a girlfriend on the show.”
He looked away again into the darkness.
This has got to be the hottest summer ever, he thought.