“How are you, Clementine?” “—.” “Why can’t you talk?” Clementine opens her mouth to reveal a frog in her throat. “Why is there a frog in your throat?” Clementine writes 

MY HUSBAND REDD PUT IT THERE 

on a torn page from her writing journal. “Can you remove the frog?” Clementine nods no. “Can you kill the frog?” Clementine nods no. “Can I kill the frog?” Clementine nods yes. “I’ll jab your frog with my keys. Hadley — you know my wife Hadley — she often marvels at the jabbing quality of my keys. Can you open your mouth? I promise I won’t jab your tongue.” 

When Clementine cranks open her mouth, Tanner punishes the green intruder with his serrated apartment key. Crimson blood squirts onto his blue tide eyeballs. “Do you have a napkin?” “I have a tampon. Can you clean your bloody eyes with my tampon?” “Thank you, Clementine.” “My pleasure.” “I’m happy you can speak now.” “My female voice doesn’t enjoy wearing handcuffs.” “Why did Redd put a frog in your throat?” “He stuffed that green intrusion in while I slept.” “Why did he do that?” “He says I talk too much.” “Do you?” “I only talk when I have words worth articulating.” 

“Are you happy with Redd?” “We’re divorcing. I want to sign the papers tonight at dusk.” “Why dusk?” “That’s when all our neighborhood bullfrogs come out looking to mate.”