Cornflakes or Cheerios, that was the choice. He decided on Cheerios. He filled the bowl. Added milk. Got a spoon out the drawer. Sat down. Switched the television on. Ate. Afterwards he was still hungry. There were pop tarts in the cupboard. He put one in the toaster. It came out. it was hot. He burnt his fingers., bit it and burnt his mouth, blew on it and bit again, it was still too hot and it was horrible, he ate it anyway then got another. Just ate it raw in the car. It tasted worse, still ate it though.
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quote: Authorities were led on a high speed vehicle chase by an armless, one-legged man, and they said this wasn't the first time the 40-year-old eluded police.
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Maureen applied butter to the last of the three crumpets and called for her son, who was getting ready for school. 'Andy! Your crumpets are ready!' This proclamation was met with utter disgust from the child.
'Oh for fuck's sake Mum. We've had crumpets for the past two days now! I said, just yesterday, that I DIDN'T WANT CRUMPETS AGAIN! And what do you go and do, you useless fucking whore? You go and make me crumpets AGAIN!' With this, Andy sprinted into the kitchen and smashed his Mother in the side of the face. Blood spurted from her ears and, gradually, she slipped to the floor.
'S-s-s-son... What have you done that for?' pleaded Maureen. Andy was now booting her in the ribcage. Enough was enough. Maureen caught hold of her son's ankle and spun him around. Scrambling to her feet, clutching her bleeding ear and winded chest, Maureen realised that she had to take the initiative. Grabbing her son by the neck, she dragged herself over to the sink. 'Right. You little fucker. Put your mouth on the sink. Put-your-fucking-mouth-on-the-sink.' This he did.
The front door slammed. Brian was back from his thirty six hour drinking binge. 'Right! What the fuck's for breakfast?' Brian sat at the kitchen table and farted.
'Oh Brian. Do you have to?' mumbled Maureen.
And then a spaceship came down and blew everyone up.
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A similar thing happened to me when I was 13. I was doing a paper round, quite a respected route than ran the length of Woods Rd in Chaddesden Derby, with often more than 20 papers. But that's by the by. Anyway, one day, my evil Indian Overlord split another round with me and another guy, pushing my papers up to around 35 papers.
I marched in there and demanded to know what her game was, she offered me a ten pence rise.
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