My son hasn’t ruined my life. But he did ruin veggie cream cheese for me. He says, “I don’t like Salad Cheese. Who wants salad in their cheese? I’ll chew on a baby carrot if I’m in the mood for a little nosh. But you can take your overpriced veggie cream cheese, shine it up real nice and jam it up your anus hole daddy. Smoked salmon or white fish on a pumpernickel bagel, moron son. Have I told you that your bad at life yet? Do you think Uncle John would like that material for your final comedy record this time, Family Funny Rules, Daddy? How does Uncle Jon have a harder stomach than you Daddy? Who does planks on heroin? And why did Uncle Jon flinch when you ordered me to punch him in the stomach again on July 4th? You let me hit you in the face with my boxing gloves as a form of flinch freeing treatment all the time. I thought boarding school made him tough. If he started out as a punk, he came out a 100 percent bitch. What’s my follow up punch? Please, after one gut punch alone, Uncle Jon lost all appetite for my triple decker sandwich.”
Family Funny Rules, Challah.
Thank you very much.