I don't even remember how we got on the topic, unfortunately, but it was something about him having a craving for ordering hot wings, or staying in and having sex, and the two at war with each other.
Me: Oh right, this is going to end up being some hot-wing-sodomy-fetish thing, isn't it. "I have a cure for that!"*
J: GYAAAGH! NO! I just... EW!
Me: Please. Are you saying that YOU, Mr. Sexual Deviance, don't have a fetish hidden somewhere about buggering a woman with hot wings?
J: NO! Actually, there's this fetish grid of Things That Would Be Hot, usually involving things that vibrate or are otherwise plasticine, and violating you with hot wings does NOT appear on this chart...
Me: Right, you've talked about boinking me with appliances, penguins...
J: ...well, that would be kinda hot. But NO! No hot wings!
*further discussion involving me violating his brain with hot wings ensues*
J: I'd just like to drop this topic now, because I'm still hungry for hot wings but it's just feeling WRONG, the wings are becoming DIRTY, and I don't want that to happen. Please don't take my wings from me!
Me: *collapses in a fit of laughter*
J: You know what? I DON'T WANT TO KNOW. There's something going on in your brain that's emanating waves of EVIL, and just keep it AWAY from me. Okay?
Me: *hee hee hee* Okay fine, but I have to put it on LJ. If you click the cut, it's your own damn fault.
J: FINE. Just... quit giggling!
Me: I'm trying! *snrk hee hee*
Put drumsticks in my hand,
Cluck me 'till I cannot stand...
I lust for chicken sodomy,
Please don't take my wings from meeeeeee...
*The running joke is that no matter what happens to me, headache, gastrointestinal combustion, dismemberment, J. always pipes up with "I have a cure for THAT!" *Groucho eyebrow waggle* Yeah.