Dad flopped down into his old brown recliner, the musty scent of trapped gas filling the air. He sighed as a far-away look came to his eyes. Then I heard it. "Daa-aaaad!" I held my nose & waved my arms around the room to clear the air. My girlfriend was coming over in about 5 minutes & there sat my dad, passed out again & flatulent. He was too heavy to move, I piled laundry on my passed out dad. Just as my girlfriend arrived, he flatulated again. "Something smells. Did you forget to take out the trash?" she asked, her eyes watering. "Yeah sorry" I scanned the giant laundry pile stopping at a sock. My Dad's toe was sticking out of it. Then the dog came up to lick it. I tried to hide this from my boyfriend by Letting him motorboat me having just started muling for Kristof. He sang his favourite song, "She's a Pistol" while working to clean up the mess. Kristof needed to watch his staining tendencies when eating my homemade spaghetti. I trained him to take care of the earmites with kerosene and a match, but he's got two left feet. Literally. In the womb, he absorbed his twin only partially. At least he can halfway sing. I had no idea how to react to these revelations. First dates didn't usually go this deep this fast. The two left feet sounded like something I wanted to experience. But the rest of it … ? I knew I had to open my mind, and fast, or I might die never having known that true love is for those who aren't perfect. Two left feet, two left eyes, two left ears, whatever. What Frankenstein's monster really wanted, though, was a surgeon who could tell left from right!



1 Woab's photo

Tweedle, you’ve done it again.

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