I want you to go on and vomit up that frittata into this cup. You shouldn’t be eating that Eurotrash food anyhow.
Don’t look at me. I’m not going to help you now. Only your feet can help you. Mumble your excuses to your feet. Or maybe that helpful spot way over in the back you keep staring at.
Do you know why you’re here today? Do you know why you’re here? ‘Cause I’m going to tell you. You’re here because, because you think I’m not a hologram. But when have I ever touched you? Think about it.
Go ahead and leave your children. Do it now. Put them in a shopping cart and leave them in the front yard if necessary. Throw in some of those little yoghurts with them, they’ll be fine. Just do what you gotta do. Do what feels right.
I want you to come over here right now and chew on my moustache. It’s full of nutrients and antidepressants.
I know you’ve been having troubles with your husband, right? Your family? And I promised last week that I would get you some help. Well you know what? Fuck you.
Show’s over, but I’m just going to sit here. I need you to take my wife’s hand and walk out with her. Take her back to the house. Pick up some tequila on the way. I’ll catch up later.
On second thought, let’s not do this.
3 comments:
D'you know how many little Yogs they have to hurt to make that stuff?
I'd totally watch THAT show.
I don't know whether to love him or hate him. I'm completely ambivalent, a very rare thing for me.
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