Smack my weasel and call me Boomer, in the toiletry aisle at Target I just spied bottles of pumpkin spice body wash.

This works out with perfect cosmic confluence because my compulsively-guarded deepest desire is having the aroma of a high-fiber seasonal muffin being gnawed upon by a coquettish ingenue white girl from Connecticut named Bethany who at this very moment is taking in the vibrantly lovely autumn colors on her annual trip to the luxurious Sagamore of the equally luxurious Adirondacks with her “fates-brought-us-together” fiancee Cody who was once her high school stalker and after graduation she realized she has abandonment issues and he’s just that guy who has a huge problem saying “goodbye.”

Bethany, Cody … restraining orders expire but love blooms eternal. I love you guys.