The End of the Season

"What'd you say?" asked Jo-jo.

Clara looked annoyed. "I said the beets are done."

"Oh," Jo-jo replied, thinking she had said something about teets and fun. He looked down at his dangling six-inch nipples like spaghetti made of distressed leather. No, he thought, teets are never fun. Outside, the herd began moving again, out to greener pastures and firmer nipples, always out and away.