Foto: Adamo mangia la Mela--ossia, Leggero lecca il Cocomero
° “Woody, Muskrat! Y’all breakfusses’s gittin’ cold.”
° “Here I am, Mom, Dad. What a bodacious stack of pancakes, lions ‘n‘ tigers ‘n‘ elephunks, Gosh!”
° “Watch your language, Son.”
° “Gee, Dad, I’m awful sorry. What a bodacious stack of pancakes, and waffles, and sausages and bacon, and french toast, and scrambled eggs just the way I like ‘em.”
° “Wonder what’s keeping your brother? Woody!”
° Silence.
° “Slow down, Son, chew each bite 30 times, that way you won’t ever get indigestion.”
° “I know, Dad, but it’s all just so darn--I mean, Gee, it’s good.”
° “Did you finish your book report before you went to bed? Didn’t misplace it? Got all your books? Well your Father and I are just so proud of you.” Beamy smiles all around.
° “Woody, you’re going to be late for the school bus, don’t make me have to come up there after you.”
° “I’m coming, Ma.”
° “Come to think of it, you’re up mighty early this morning, Muskrat, you’ll have plenty of time to floss and brush your--you didn’t skip any of your chores this morning?”
° Silence. Guilty, shamefaced silence.
° “Son, your mother asked you a question.”
° “O, aw, er--.”
° “Did you come down for breakfast again without finishing your masturbation? Answer me, young man.”
° “O Ma, I get so sick of masturbation.”
° “Don’t use that tone of voice to your mother, Theodoric. We’ve had this discussion before, we‘re not having it again. Now go on upstairs and don’t come down till you’re done. And don’t be late for school either. What was that? Do you want me to take my belt to you?”
° “No, Pa, I’ll masturbate all right. Mornin’, Woody.” Exit.
° “What’s up with the Muskrat, Ma? Looks down in the dumps.”
° “The same old story. I’m thankful there’s one of my sons has an obedient disposition.”
° “Thanks, Mom. Sorry I was a little late. Couldn’t decide between videos of Angelina Jolie--I know you think she’s too old for me, but she’s really hot. Isn’t she, Dad?”
° “Yes, Son, age isn’t everything, lips have to count for something too.”
° “It was between her and that old internet video of Tommy Lee and--boy o boy, I just wish my penis was half his size.”
° “I heard that,” replied Mom.
° “Humph!” snorted Dad.
§§§§§
° Imagine . . . no more desperate, pregnancydriven marriages; no more AIDSy lastcall “well he’s starting to look halfway doable now that the bar’s fixing to close;” no more Ennis del Mar Presidents . . . .
° No more war.
° For, as the bibles do say,
Train up a child in the way he shall go, and when he is old he will not depart therefrom.
° Seeing it all now, Giac.
P. S. If you want to see the expurgated lyrics, click here. Wonder who granted permission to censor this song?
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