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    A favor …

    By briantologist | July 18, 2003

    If you ever, ever, ever see me in a restaurant, and I’m with my three to six kids, and they’re shrieking like the ring wraiths, and I’m ineffectively trying to “suggest” that they stop screaming by saying things like with my vooooooooowels stretched waaaaaaaay ooooooooooooout in a reeeeeealy nasal waaaaaaaay, and people around my table look like they’re two shrieks from snapping like a twig and throwing every available piece of furniture through every available plate glass window, and my fucking kids keep shrieking and I keep saying things like “Now Taaaaaaaaaaaaaylor, do you want a piece of piiiiiiiiiza? How about another piece of pizza Taaaaaaaaaaaaylor?”, and fucking Taylor keeps screeching on into the afternoon, please do me the service of beating my fucking skull into a pulp, then dropping my revolting-ass spoiled-rotten brats at the workhouse. Because after the lunch I just had, I’m more than willing to return the favor. Together, we can make a difference.

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