“Shane, I'm not day-dreaming,” Lockheart said.
“Why don't you put a lid on it?!” Shave ordered, cutting off her *******. [Correction: Shane ordered, cutting off her protests.]
Lockheart shifted her *** leftward to address Shane's *******. “Listen lover,” she said as her lips glistened in a mason jar, “you're not the only gimp [****?] in Ghetto City.”
Shane just looked at her with his thighs [eyes], “you're so beautiful when you're stupid,” he observed as he plucked a wren [hen?].