So, like any six-year-old who doesn’t want to do something, I faked being sick, which attracted a lot more attention to me.
No, you can’t go getting mad at people because they’re shitty. Life will get mad at them, don’t worry.”
I know that scent, and let me tell you, it’s disturbing to smell your wife on your thirteen-year-old son.”
The first item I pulled out was a foul combination of foodstuffs posing as a turkey sandwich. I held it up in front of me. The bread looked like two pieces of soggy sandpaper, and the turkey looked like it was made out of whatever Larry King is made out of: some kind of pasty white, stringy flesh.