Would You Rather…?

Last night, while slurping on corn chowder, the husband turns to me and says,

Husband: Would you rather...

We've played this game before. I'm not a fan of it because it forces disturbing images into my head that can only be scrubbed away with bleach and phosphoric acid.

Husband (cont.): ...have sex with Harvey Keitel or Danny Devito?

I look up from my Entertainment Weekly, slightly annoyed because I’m in the middle of reading about Kim Kardashian's ginormous ass and how it almost swallowed her sister Khloe.

Me (sighing): I don't want to play.

Husband: Come on. Indulge me.

Me: Neither.

Husband: You have to pick one. Them's the rules.

Me: Brad Pitt.

Husband: Not an option. Keitel or Devito?

Me: No. They're both gross.