Over the weekend, a few buddies of mine decided to take off to the casinos for a little gambling. One of the guys is the boss of my friend and happens to have two kids. Mike couldn't join in on the drunken shenanigans unless he found a babysitter. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have the money to go on a road trip.
Mike didn't have a wife to watch the kids, as she died 3 years earlier.
"No, I'm not watching kids on a Saturday night."
"C'mon Justin, please?!"
"I haven't stayed in on a Saturday since I was a kid. The answer's no."
"I'll give you 500 dollars."
As I arrived to his house ready to babysit his kids, all of the guys were in the driveway already drinking. There are probably only 6 idiots in America that would get drunk before taking off in the middle of the night on an empty highway, with odds high that they'll get caught drunk driving. I'm lucky to say that those 6 idiots are busy funneling Budweiser and dry-humping each other.
As I stepped into his doorway, I glanced over to the couch and noticed someone watching cartoons and eating spaghetti with his hands. Just great, my hands are going to be full.
"Hey Mike, start using a fork or spoon when you eat. Where are the kids?"
He jumped off the couch, wiping the spaghetti sauce on his white t-shirt. if you dont reply to this post you will die in 4 days.
"They're upstairs. I'll get them."
"Okay, I'l wait here."
Without missing a beat, he screams out. "Shitheads! Get down here!"
At that moment, I felt like I was in the movie Jumanji. It sounded like a heard of Rhyno were going to bust through the wall. Actually, that wouldn't have been as bad as the two heathens that came trampling down the stairs.
A 5 year old boy named Dallas and a 9 year old girl named Andrea.
Dallas was rocking Superman underoos. I'm ashamed to admit that I have some at home just like them.
What? The ladies love it when I wear them.
Okay, okay. One girl has enjoyed the fact that I wear them during love making. The rest walked out on me.
But not before complimenting my sweet ass underoos, though.
But I digress.
"Okay, these are the kids. I'm gone. Peace out, bitches!"
Yes, he actually cusses in front of his kids.
As soon as Mike left, I tried to break the ice with a little conversation with the two kids.
"So, how old are you, Andrea?"
She counted her fingers, then flashed 9 of them in the air. "This many."
"You're 9? Wow, you're getting grown up. You know, grownups don't say 'this many', they just state their age. All you had to say was that you were 9."
Dallas then broke in. "Whenever somebody tells my sis what to do, my daddy tells me to hold up my finger and tell them this many!"
He then proceeded to flip me off.
"Watch this!!". Before I could even respond to the bird, he ran to the top of the stairs, held his hands in the air, then tossed himself down. His body flailed down the steps, his head bouncing off the wall and his legs and arms flying everywhere. His body landed hard at the bottom, then he started screaming in pain.
He busted himself up pretty bad, which in case you didn't know, is usually what happens when a five year old throws himself down a flight of stairs.
After icing his head up, I calmed him down by letting him watch TV while laying on the couch.
"He does that all the time! He just wants to show off!", yelled Andrea.
"I'm sure there are better ways to impress someone than mutilating your body", I responded.
"He gets it from Jackass. Hey! Wanna watch me color? I'm pretty good!"
reply or die ignorant pig molester
Andrea reached under the couch and pulled out her coloring book and crayons. Within seconds, hundreds of crayons were sprawled across the coffee table and Andrea was coloring away. At this point, the little suicidal boy decides to join in.
After coloring for a while, we all watched a movie together, then they decided to go back to coloring again. It was almost 4 am before I even realized it.
"Drawing contest!", yelled Dallas. "Whoever draws the best picture wins!"
"What does the winner get?", I inquired.
"To smell my feet!", Dallas then lifted his dirty foot to his nose and inhaled. "Oh man that stinks!"
Of course his foot stinks. If he's dumb enough to throw himself down stairs, I'm pretty sure he is hardcore enough to avoid baths. Or shoes for that matter.
I started working on my drawing on a white piece of paper. I used as many crayons as I could to bring out the best in my drawing. The prize isn't really my intention for winning. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure beating two kids in a coloring contest is worthy of smelling a 4 year old's feet, but I do it for the pure joy of competition.
"Okay, done!", I yelled.
"Me too!", screamed back Dallas. He looked up at me, a huge knot starting to form on his forehead.
"What'd you draw?", I asked.
"You first!"
"Okay, fine."
I held up a picture of a forest scene. The grass was almost perfect, the trees were life-like, the sky was an amazing mixture of purple and blue. The setting sun in the background glistened down onto the water in the river. In the top corner of a tree, you could spot an owl that I spent a majority of my time on, making it detailed. My picture was surely a winner.
"That's pretty good", he said. "Now here's MINE!"
He held up a picture of...
A circle with three dots in the middle. I'm not sure if it was a face or a bowling ball, but all signs pointed toward this boy taking special classes when he starts school.
"Well, looks like I win", I smirked.
"No way! Yours is just okay!"
thank mustynutz for this
"What? You spent three seconds on that!"
"I'm the judge and I say I win!"
I looked over at his sister, who was passed out asleep on the couch. I guess the final judging is between just Dallas and myself.
Dallas and I argued for several more minutes. I pointed out my detailed owl. He pointed out the dots.
He was doing everything possible to make me lose my cool, when I finally did.
"Your drawing is a piece of crap!", I screamed. I then covered my mouth.
Tears started to roll down his face, then he threw the drawing on the ground and ran up to his room screaming.
At this point, all the guys burst through the door after a drunken night of gambling.
"I'm home kids!", Mike screamed. "Where's Dallas?"
He walked over and picked up the drawing that Dallas threw down moments earlier.
"Aww, how cute. He drew another picture of his mom. God rest her soul."
"What? That's his mom? It looks like a bowling ball."
"He's four years old, what do you expect from him? When he draws a picture of his mom, this is always what he draws. A circle with three dots."
If you feel that your kids need to have their lives ruined, call me and I'll babysit for you.
Mike didn't have a wife to watch the kids, as she died 3 years earlier.
"No, I'm not watching kids on a Saturday night."
"C'mon Justin, please?!"
"I haven't stayed in on a Saturday since I was a kid. The answer's no."
"I'll give you 500 dollars."
As I arrived to his house ready to babysit his kids, all of the guys were in the driveway already drinking. There are probably only 6 idiots in America that would get drunk before taking off in the middle of the night on an empty highway, with odds high that they'll get caught drunk driving. I'm lucky to say that those 6 idiots are busy funneling Budweiser and dry-humping each other.
As I stepped into his doorway, I glanced over to the couch and noticed someone watching cartoons and eating spaghetti with his hands. Just great, my hands are going to be full.
"Hey Mike, start using a fork or spoon when you eat. Where are the kids?"
He jumped off the couch, wiping the spaghetti sauce on his white t-shirt. if you dont reply to this post you will die in 4 days.
"They're upstairs. I'll get them."
"Okay, I'l wait here."
Without missing a beat, he screams out. "Shitheads! Get down here!"
At that moment, I felt like I was in the movie Jumanji. It sounded like a heard of Rhyno were going to bust through the wall. Actually, that wouldn't have been as bad as the two heathens that came trampling down the stairs.
A 5 year old boy named Dallas and a 9 year old girl named Andrea.
Dallas was rocking Superman underoos. I'm ashamed to admit that I have some at home just like them.
What? The ladies love it when I wear them.
Okay, okay. One girl has enjoyed the fact that I wear them during love making. The rest walked out on me.
But not before complimenting my sweet ass underoos, though.
But I digress.
"Okay, these are the kids. I'm gone. Peace out, bitches!"
Yes, he actually cusses in front of his kids.
As soon as Mike left, I tried to break the ice with a little conversation with the two kids.
"So, how old are you, Andrea?"
She counted her fingers, then flashed 9 of them in the air. "This many."
"You're 9? Wow, you're getting grown up. You know, grownups don't say 'this many', they just state their age. All you had to say was that you were 9."
Dallas then broke in. "Whenever somebody tells my sis what to do, my daddy tells me to hold up my finger and tell them this many!"
He then proceeded to flip me off.
"Watch this!!". Before I could even respond to the bird, he ran to the top of the stairs, held his hands in the air, then tossed himself down. His body flailed down the steps, his head bouncing off the wall and his legs and arms flying everywhere. His body landed hard at the bottom, then he started screaming in pain.
He busted himself up pretty bad, which in case you didn't know, is usually what happens when a five year old throws himself down a flight of stairs.
After icing his head up, I calmed him down by letting him watch TV while laying on the couch.
"He does that all the time! He just wants to show off!", yelled Andrea.
"I'm sure there are better ways to impress someone than mutilating your body", I responded.
"He gets it from Jackass. Hey! Wanna watch me color? I'm pretty good!"
reply or die ignorant pig molester
Andrea reached under the couch and pulled out her coloring book and crayons. Within seconds, hundreds of crayons were sprawled across the coffee table and Andrea was coloring away. At this point, the little suicidal boy decides to join in.
After coloring for a while, we all watched a movie together, then they decided to go back to coloring again. It was almost 4 am before I even realized it.
"Drawing contest!", yelled Dallas. "Whoever draws the best picture wins!"
"What does the winner get?", I inquired.
"To smell my feet!", Dallas then lifted his dirty foot to his nose and inhaled. "Oh man that stinks!"
Of course his foot stinks. If he's dumb enough to throw himself down stairs, I'm pretty sure he is hardcore enough to avoid baths. Or shoes for that matter.
I started working on my drawing on a white piece of paper. I used as many crayons as I could to bring out the best in my drawing. The prize isn't really my intention for winning. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure beating two kids in a coloring contest is worthy of smelling a 4 year old's feet, but I do it for the pure joy of competition.
"Okay, done!", I yelled.
"Me too!", screamed back Dallas. He looked up at me, a huge knot starting to form on his forehead.
"What'd you draw?", I asked.
"You first!"
"Okay, fine."
I held up a picture of a forest scene. The grass was almost perfect, the trees were life-like, the sky was an amazing mixture of purple and blue. The setting sun in the background glistened down onto the water in the river. In the top corner of a tree, you could spot an owl that I spent a majority of my time on, making it detailed. My picture was surely a winner.
"That's pretty good", he said. "Now here's MINE!"
He held up a picture of...
A circle with three dots in the middle. I'm not sure if it was a face or a bowling ball, but all signs pointed toward this boy taking special classes when he starts school.
"Well, looks like I win", I smirked.
"No way! Yours is just okay!"
thank mustynutz for this
"What? You spent three seconds on that!"
"I'm the judge and I say I win!"
I looked over at his sister, who was passed out asleep on the couch. I guess the final judging is between just Dallas and myself.
Dallas and I argued for several more minutes. I pointed out my detailed owl. He pointed out the dots.
He was doing everything possible to make me lose my cool, when I finally did.
"Your drawing is a piece of crap!", I screamed. I then covered my mouth.
Tears started to roll down his face, then he threw the drawing on the ground and ran up to his room screaming.
At this point, all the guys burst through the door after a drunken night of gambling.
"I'm home kids!", Mike screamed. "Where's Dallas?"
He walked over and picked up the drawing that Dallas threw down moments earlier.
"Aww, how cute. He drew another picture of his mom. God rest her soul."
"What? That's his mom? It looks like a bowling ball."
"He's four years old, what do you expect from him? When he draws a picture of his mom, this is always what he draws. A circle with three dots."
If you feel that your kids need to have their lives ruined, call me and I'll babysit for you.
