“Do you think I’m pretty, Jim A. *Sorry* — Jim B. I did it again.”
“You *did* do it again,” spoke Jim B. from the bed. “You’re *always* doing that. There never *was* a Jim A. It’s *B*. Always was, always will be.”
“Jim Brown,” Your Mama pronounces the name fully. “But you didn’t answer me. Do you think I’m beautiful?”
“That’s not what you asked,” Jim B. answers, tightening the noose around his neck. Definitely not a nouse. Definitely not Jim A.