“Dozens of freshly sharpened pencils were aimed straight at my chest. That did even things out a bit. “Let me ask you something. When you set about to make something like that, what exactly goes through your head?” He shrugged. “Mostly, ‘boobs, beer, this will be cool, boobs, beer.’ ” I bit my lip, because laughing didn’t seem appropriate at the moment. “Well, you’re honest.”
