The Classic Family
As if it's not enough that the household only yields more communication than the morgue, it's even worse when the communication itself is dysfunctional.The following is an excerpt of what transpired between three members in the household of yours truly.
Elder Son: "Eh, give you, just in case." [Passes a small box to younger son]
[Younger Son examines the box, and for the first time in his life sees the label Nipple Shields]
Younger Son: "What the hell is this?! Wassup man!"
[By the way, for those of you who're unsure of what nipple shields actually do, you should ask the mother for advice]
[Younger Son examines the box further, gets more baffled and worried about the state of family affairs, shows the product in question to someone else, who HOPEFULLY is disturbed as well, and looks to the mother in the unfounded hope that she would at least say something decently intelligent.]
The Mother: "What if you get raped?"
[At this point, all proper relatively logical-to-a-very-small-extent type of communication has ceased, and the system has obviously gone offline. Younger Son tries desperately to salvage the situation by attempting to find some logic in that last statement, since obviously the Mother feels that if one wears nipple shields, the rapist will be deterred from performing his seemingly unflappable task of penetration. After all, they ARE shields what. Eventually, Younger Son gives up in defeat.]
Ignorance has finally brought things to a point whereby I feel I really do need a space of my own. This space between insanity and my sanctity, which is in fact the bedroom that has been bestowed upon me by the Father, is melting away like jellyfish in the sand. Need to seek out a new sanctuary. Please let the next lottery winner be me.
posted by Da Buffalo! @ 8:04 AM
1 Comments:
you failed to mention the utterly bewildered girlfriend who stood there watching the scene unfold before her and had to duck out of the house to burst out laughing.
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