So you're driving around with the little ingrates who are presently acting like little shits in the back of the station wagon; you're at your wit's end with that bitch at the office who keeps hitting on your husband; who, believe you me, ain't no looker, and neither is the bitch. They start spitting at each other like it's a Chinese Parliament session and then all hell breaks loose. One of your kids actually takes a piss in his pants and starts laughing trying to rub it in your baby's face, who's strapped to her car seat, all the while laughing like he's the king of the fucking world--or, for that matter, the drunk you married, otherwise known as your husband. After screeching to a halt, you take your kid's piss-soaked pants off and toss them into the gutter, rub his face in the wetspot left in the seat and tie him down to it and strap the other little fucker to the front seat. You open the trunk, take the frozen turkey and all the other shit you spent two hours fighting through other losers trying to celebrate god knows what and toss all the stuff by the side of the road and drive off, causing two cars beside you to side-swipe each other. "We're getting Chinese you little bitches." Mischief managed.
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