...and had Cream of Wheat, tonight. Her neck-hole was considerably constricted, so the Saw-Necks considerably widened it. I am told they fed something akin to a garden hose down her blow-hole today.
I was working on Mom's 'puter during all this. Just did a repair with the bootleg CD, and then excised any evidence of Uncle Bill's offending nonsense. Jacked up her virtual memory, streamlined her with MSCONFIG, and she is cooking with gas.
Sis is what they call 'pre-cancerous'. She wanted to show me pictures of her uvula. I gacked and told her to not be a pervert. Your uvula is between you and your vibrator, and a sanctum I shall perforce never observe. Shave it, if you must, but I don't want to see pictures of it. Freak.
I am somnolent, my belly quickened with the last of the Magic Mac & Cheese. Farting may, nay, will ensue. I have need of a squaw to chew the skidmarks from my loincloth. The wife refuses. Twat.
I am going over the inventory of my sisters possessions in my head, to see if there's anything I wish to purloin, should she, well, you know...
Nope. She has a kick-ass Raggedy Ann collection, but I am not interested. You ever notice how nobody mentions Raggedy Andy? Probably because he doesn't have a serviceable penis. You can at least bust open Ann's stitches, and give her a good stuffing in the stuffing, but poor Andy is just a floppity gay rube, of even less caliber than the Scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz.
I'd sooner do Pooh.