“Who would I kill?” I asked, sitting up from him, wiping my face.
“Who?”
“Yeah, I mean, is it random, or do you choose them?”
“Well.” He grinned and picked an ant off the rug, then tossed it onto the grass. “I usually avoid eating comedians as much as possible.”
“Why?” I asked slowly.
“Because they taste funny.” His brows rose.
I imagined a tumbleweed rolling past as I listened for crickets. “That wasn't funny.”