"You do not let reject by butchery right in front of and take a room on the floor," yelled Aunt Purvis. Was it me or the cat tranquilizers? At times Aunt Purvis has been known to mix up her words but the Pukester and I were having serious trouble interpreting her broken English. Instead of taking a room on the floor, I squeezed out a little turdball onto the top of my shoe and hacky sacked it into the salad bowl. Uncle Meatplow snapped out with his fork and gobbled it down with a cherry tomato.
After brunch, Puke and I went to the barn to drop some acid. We built an igloo out of hay bales and then I called some hookers. Meanwhile a goat was walking up the wall and Puke’s pet monkey was huffing gas from the tractor. After what seemed like 47 seconds, a flatbed truck filled with hookers and blacksmiths backed up into the barn. The smallest blacksmith came up to me and asked for the cash in advance.
“What’s with all the chumps?” I asked.
“Thems the bodyguards. There’s a lot of funny stuff happening around this side of town.”
“There’s still a couple tabs left if ya’ll want to share the rest of the LSD.”
“Thanks but no thanks. We just came back from smoking PCP. You don’t mind if your pud gets chewed on a bit. Some of the performers are on uppers as well.”
I spent the next twelve hours drooling on myself while the Pukester got his money’s worth. When I finally snapped out of my trip, our parents were already back from their vacation. It was time to go back home.
I tried to take a piss the next morning, but when I flipped out the general, it looked like a stick of gum that had been stomped on by a football team.