F-word

Jason leaned back on the couch, having stolen the coveted ottoman, and glanced at the floor before making his statement. "Ray Allen is flipping unbelievable."

"Ray Allen is a, uh, punk-butted mother lover." Darien slapped his knee as the seconds ticked by. "And so are you."

"Anyone need a re-up?" Kevin called from the kitchen. Noah did a quick inventory.

"Uh, yeah. Two—you good, Jase?" Jason nodded and held up his beer bottle. "And one baby drink."

Kevin emerged with new beer and a can of tomato juice. "Will this work?"

Noah threw him a pointed look. "Do you want your carpet to stay white?"

On the television, a whistle blew. Jason yelled something incoherent as Darien leapt to his feet, screaming. "Shi—shoot! You fracking uh, dummies! Switch the flipping screen! And if you don't switch the darned screen, like you should've, then you fu—fishing go over it, not under it, when you're trailing him! Fishing idiots!" He stopped, red faced and panting, and turned to Noah. "Is 'idiots' too much?"

Noah bent down to the floor. "Aja, do you remember what Uncle just said?"

She paused her crayon over the (hopefully not important) sketchpad that Kevin had found in Mina's studio, and looked up at them with those impossibly big brown eyes. "Yidyit."

Noah shrugged. "Guess it's too much."

"Damn-darn! Darn," Darien corrected himself. "Sorry, Aja, Uncle's just gets mad when big guys who are paid millions of millions of dollars to play a game fail to not only understand the fundamentals of the game, but do such a pee-poor job of it that it goes into another overtime. Don't tell Mommy, OK?"

Aja nodded and went back to her crayons. Noah had apologetically appeared for the game with his daughter in tow: Makoto being sick in bed at home, and his parents on vacation in Florida. A frantic call had been put out, but Mina was at a show, Jesse was helping her, Raye was working a weekend with her boss, and Serena probably smelled something fishy and didn't answer her phone. No matter, they assured him. Them's the breaks when you're a dad. "We'll just watch our swearing," Darien promised, and the rest had nodded in agreement.

But by the second overtime, it was very, very hard to do.

Jason howled. "Did you see that, uh, fishing shot? SWISH, baby!"

"ID-I mean, STUPIDS!" Darien yelled, his face reddening again. "You know they've gotta shoot the trey, and you KNOW they're going to go to Stupidhead Allen, so how the fff-fishing heck do you give him a wide open shot?" He settled back. "Bulls, you deserve to fishing lose. Dumb mother lovers. Fish this bull poop."

"D, why are you getting so upset?" Kevin asked. "Allen's the best pure shooter in this league."

"Shut-I mean, be quiet, Kevin. Fishing Masshole. Gently insert it up your fishing colon."

"Whatever, man. He just schooled those rookies. This isn't Florida college ball, and learn to fu--sorry, sorry, switch a screen or go over it. Basketball 101." He took a sip of beer. "Apparently they don't teach these things in fishing Florida."

"Darned straight! Old school, baby! We've got The Truth AND the best shooter ... too bad KG's hurt or else we'd trounce those fishing rookies." Jason looked proud of himself. "Hey, look, I did the whole thing without swearing."

"What do you want, a cookie?" Darien snarled. "Shoot, I still can't fishing believe this. How the hockey stick did their fishing defense just collapse like that?"

"Shit, I still can't believe he made that fishing shot!"

"Jase," Noah said dryly. "You let one through."

"No I didn't. I said 'fish'."

"Not the fish," Darien helpfully supplied. "It was a 'shit'."

"I did not say 'shit'."

"Well, now you've just said 'shit' three times," Kevin said, then caught himself. "Oh shit, sorry!"

On the floor, Aja mumbled something that sounded like one syllable and a short vowel. Darien shot a look to Noah.

"Fish this. I think I have an idea. Kevin, don't you have those white noise headphones? The ones you use on planes?"

He nodded. "I think I know where you're going with this, and I fishing like it."

Ten minutes later, Aja sported a pair of Bose noise-canceling headphones McGuyvered to fit her small head, and was playing with her crayons in blissful, peaceful silence while a verbal war raged above her head.

"This fucking hurts. I don't think I'm ever going to stop crying."

Jason laughed at Noah's pain. "Allen's the fucking man. Watch, it's gonna be all fucking Celtics from here on out!"

Kevin added his two cents. "Of course, Celtics have got the momentum now. The Bulls are too busy holding their assholes shut to get their fucking game back on. This shit's fucking over."

"Kevin, shut the fuck up." Noah felt better now that he was able to swear. "Fuck this shit! Learn to shoot some damn free throws." He ran a hand through his hair. "If I were the fucking coach, I'd be running their asses to the ground in practice. Suicides for each missed free throw, and the whole fucking team is going to shoot them."

"Shit man, if you ever make us do that..." Darien trailed off.

"Maybe if goddamn bitch-ass Miller could make a free throw," Noah sighed. "It's a fucking free throw! Dribble. Bend. Shoot. Follow through. Aja can fucking make that shot! That's why they call it a fishing 'free throw'."

The guys were laughing at him. "What?"

"You left a 'fish' in," Darien said, grinning.

A few days later, Makoto returned home from the supermarket with Aja in tow.

"What's for dinner?" Noah said, taking one of the heavier grocery bags.

"Salmon," she replied, setting the bags and child down on the counter. "For some reason, Aja kept asking for fish. She's been saying it over and over again for days." She gave him a long, suspicious look. "What's with fish?"

He tried to keep the smile off of his face as he pulled Aja off the counter. "At least it's not another f-word."