He thought of golf.  He thought of broccoli.  He thought of NASCAR.  He thought of tofu.  He thought of poker.  He thought of a root canal (which he never experienced, so what was up with that?).  Any-fucking-thing that he despised ran through his mind with the sole intent of diverting attention from a stirring Mr. Happy.  Paul vaguely recalled trying this tactic before.  Paul vaguely recalled this tactic proved unsuccessful.  Just like now.<br/><br/>Although his body was definitely betraying him at such a crucial moment, Paul really couldn’t blame Mr. Happy for reacting as he did.  What, after all, wasn’t there to like about Charlette?  Other than the fact that she seemed to rev his freaking engine every chance she got?!  At this rate, he’d be in the E.R. sooner rather than later.<br/><br/>Yeah, Old Man, but at least you’re gettin’ some.  Now grab dat ass!  As usual, the Voice proved unhelpful.  Her earlobe offensive was also proving to be unhelpful.<br/><br/>While trying to sidetrack Mr. Happy, her use of the term<i>hunky </i>had at first eluded him.  Now that he thought about it, Paul found it highly amusing, as he’d never been called that before.  Not when he was in his 20s, and definitely not since he hit the Big Three-Oh.