Make a Dig at Jack

“How often do you masturbate, Jack?”

The question hangs in the air for a second, and then Jack chokes on his pasta, almost spitting it back onto the plate. He’s gone bright red in the face.

“What?!” He manages to exclaim the word between coughs, and an incredulous look crosses Helen’s face, her eyebrows arched sky-high, while Mal is in hysterics, slapping her thigh.

“Sounds like… sounds like there’s a juicy answer here…” Mal says between laughs, while Jack gulps down the remainder of his water. You give him a vigorous thump on the back, and he gives you the evil eye.

“Sorry, what did you just ask me?” Jack says after he stops coughing.

“He wants to know how often you jack off,” Helen says, placing all the emphasis on his name.

“Not such a hard question, mind you,” Mal says. “Unless you’ve lost count?”

“A couple times a week,” he says, waving his hand dismissively.

“Yeah no, we’re not letting you getting away with that,” Mal says, shaking her head for dramatic effect. “We want specifics. How many times in the last week, hmm?”

Jack goes red in the face again, and this time, it’s not because he’s ****. Trust Mal to pick up the interrogation.

“It’s um…” His head bobs from side to side as he tallies up the count in his head.

“It’s gonna be a big number,” you mock-whisper, and Jack shoots you a glare that you politely ignore.

“It’s twelve,” Jack says, and Helen clamps a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Mal, meanwhile, is laughing so hard that her chair’s precariously tilted back on two legs, while you shake your head in disbelief.

“That’s all the evidence we need guys, time to wrap up,” you say. “We all know that single people get it off more now. I mean, even if the regular single person does it less, I’m pretty sure Jack single-handedly lifts the average.”

“Holy shit, it’s Spiders Jack,” Mal cackles.

Jack has resorted to giving you very angry looks and sticks his fork into the pasta, rolling it to pick up a small portion. He serves it into his mouth with deliberate slowness, while Mal’s laugh gradually dies away.

“You lot done?” he asks, after a minute has passed.

Helen sighs. “Let’s move on to the next question,” she suggests, bringing out her notebook again.

Over an hour later, you’ve all stuffed yourself on food and come to a greater understanding of economics (and sex, for whatever reason), and so you say your goodbyes to each other and part ways.

Helen +5
Mallory +5
Jack -15