We need to talk.

Y'all remember last week when I told you this column is interactive?

I explicitly asked for you to write in with your questions, but apparently y'all must be illiterate or some shit because not a single one of you replied.

Look, I get it.

Maybe you might not want to air your dirty laundry to the world.

So, I went ahead and created a safe space for you to write in anonymously.

Here's the link:

Deadline to Write In for Next Thursday's Email

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You're welcome.

Now, even though y'all were too chicken shit to write in, I still managed to find someone in desperate need of my help.

It's about time I get back to molding some masterpieces.

Read it for yourself after a quick message from our sponsor.

Performance Plugs

This issue of Pillow Talk with Clay Clump is proudly sponsored by Performance Plugs, the world's first and only high-performance adult toy manufacturer.

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DISCLAIMER: Performance Plugs are intended for experienced adults only. Use extreme caution or you may sustain life-threatening injuries (which Performance Plugs will not be accountable). While Performance Plugs are engineered to withstand extreme conditions, they should not be exposed to sudden radical changes to temperature or atmospheric pressure.

Dear Clay,

About 10 years ago, I had an intense emotional affair with a holographic cosplayer.

I'm not proud of it, but I was a different person at the peak of my manhood. I had developed a very particular set of needs.

(Let's just say I liked to roll the dice; sometimes, I rolled snake eyes.)

Long story short, my wife found out, microwaved my hard-drive, and incinerated my projector.

Eventually, she forgave me. We got past it. And now we're stronger because of it.

Or so I thought...

A few nights ago, I was using my wife's iPad to play Candy Crush Saga when I noticed a text from someone named Hot Guy From Spin Class.

I clicked the message, and--to my horror--discovered a chain of sext messages. I was going to confront her about it, but before I had the chance, she deleted the evidence.

Now, she's telling me that I made it all up.

She says the whole thing was just a bad dream, and that I'm struggling with a severe mental health disorder that distorts my perception of reality.

I want to believe her, but I think she's working for a foreign government.

She has showed me years worth of what are supposedly my "medical records," including detailed psych evaluations from so-called "doctors."

Something about them just doesn't seem right.

When I confronted her about the records looking fake, she started sobbing and saying that she's taking our children and going to her mother's house.

I think her mother's house is code for the "Motherland."

Here's my question...

If I am dealing with a foreign intelligence agent, how do I kill her before she kills me?

Thanks in advance,

[REDACTED]

Dear [REDACTED],

This reminds me of my third tour in Vietnam.

Wait--no, it was my fourth tour. Definitely my fourth tour.

In fact, my third tour wasn't all that bad.

By then, I'd grown numb to all the kid killing and village burning... Blowing up the livestock with bazookas and hand grenades...

You know, just silly war shit.

But the fourth? Made hell look like Disneyland.

See, despite bullets, bombs, and bamboo cages in previous tours, nothing hurt like that fourth one.

Betrayal.

I fell hard for this beauty – think Angelina Jolie crossed with Sylvester Stallone, a lethal combo of charm and deception.

Found him slinging pho in a back alley joint. I thought I was playing cool, ordering extra meatballs, but next thing I know… sting in my neck, then darkness.

Woke up a POW. Days of torture for info I didn't have. But Clay don't crack. Broke out, stole a jeep... but not before I paid my traitorous ex a visit.

Let's just say I stabbed him with a garden hoe and a hocked a luge dead-center on his forehead.

Moral of the story, [REDACTED]?

Sometimes the deadliest weapon ain't a gun, it's a pretty face and a lying heart.

And if you sense danger? Assume it's real.

Do what you must to survive, soldier.

Let me know how it goes.

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