“Did you fuck my wife?”
“What?”
“Did you fuck my wife?”
“[pauses] How do you ask me that? I’m your brother and you ask me that? Where do you get your balls big enough to ask me that?”
“You’re very smart. You’re giving me a lot of answers, but you ain’t giving me the right answer. I’m gonna ask you again: Did you or did you not?”
“I’m not gonna answer that. It’s stupid. It’s a sick question and you’re a sick fuck and I’m not that sick that I’m gonna answer it. I’m leaving, If Betty calls tell her I went home. I’m not staying in this nuthouse with you. You’re a sick bastard, I feel sorry for you, I really do. You know what you should do? Try a little more fucking and a little less eating, so you won’t have problems upstairs in the bedroom where you have to pick on me and everybody else. You understand me, you fucking wacko? You’re cracking up! Fucking screw ball ya!”
Santa is like
“how did I end up in the middle of this shit?”
Holla if you read this in their voices.
—jason malmberg
Flommist Jason Malmberg is a simple man who believes in brown liquor and small dogs. He also makes art sometimes. Copyright © 2016 Jason Malmberg.
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