Familys ******* can ya hear em?
Uncle larry's probaly gonna puke dont get near him.
I kinda ****** up sight.
Someone get Bobby Joe outthe street cause ya know he aint bright.

Christmas kinda blows around here.
So toss me a bottle and crack a beer.
Hey did anyone know how the tree caught fire?
No sweetie uncle Stan  isnt a down on his luck actor.
He's really a drug dealer and habitual liar.

Is egg nog supposed to have chunks.
No baby it's  not cool that your 13 on facebook asking
for pic's of shirtless hunks.

Great it's time to sit down to dinner
Yes sure is great Father O Malley showed up.
Who better to chasethe boys and drink up the whiskey
screaming at the hat rack it's a sinner.


Um it's hard to make snow Angels  on the concrete.
No your son isnt spoiled.
He's just wearing more than i make month with his
seven thousand dollar sneakers on his feet.

Grandma it's kiss  under the mistletoe   no  tongue.
Ya think grandpa would have slowed on the cigs after getting put in the iron lung.

Great a blizzard has snowed us all in. yippie im bunking  with Little Tommy tinkles  thats the way the holiday goes.
I think freezing to death doesnt sound so bad.
Lord how Christmas blows.

.Her adjectives were littlemore than colorful trinkets that splashdark light, even on Sunday mornings therewas no rest for the wicked. My earsrejected the multi-colored grotesque barrageof hateful verbiage crammed in therewith every other simple sentence that you couldprobably see long stains left behindlike a fatal battle scar. Her mother was just as evil--I'm surprised my wife even made it to puberty. I supposeshe wanted a carbon copy just in case of an emergency,because she practiced clenching old mens' esophagus' with herice cold eyes; much, much colder than any sea on the moon;Tranquility must have been banned from her cartographers budget.Her words were like old moon rocks she'd hurl at passers bywith her catapult like tongue and even swifter *******. Always aiming at the frontal cortex. Her harsh textured words would kickand claw their way down ravaged ear canals like three ******* catsin an Italian gondola slowly floating down the over saturated streets.It usually irked me beyond comprehension when she would bring outthe sickly sweetened, over ripe verbal ammunition to pry and beg mefor more cigarette money. I'd give her the money with my favorite feined grin which bought me sacred time and to watch her walk away..