Well, the spawnage started camp this week, and, as is the law in all new situations, Mr. Z is having some trouble with a coupla punk-ass shitheads. Apparently, there are two brothers, both with buzz-cuts (surprise), who have been lipping off to the boy. According to Mr. Z, here's their very first exchange:
[Mr. Z walks up to the skinhead dickfers, as they're playing some game on a computer]
SKINHEAD 1: What're you looking at, Glasses?!
[MR. Z pauses, out of shock at their unprovoked cockishness, and then replies]
MR. Z: Get out of town, Charlie Brown.
"What're you looking at, Glasses?!" Who is this kid, Sammy "The Bull" Gravano, Jr.?! What the shit?! But chalk one up for Mr. Z for the snappy comeback! It's random, it rhymes, and, frankly, it's very Fonzie/Richie Cunningham. I've taught the boy well. Actually, I've never uttered that phrase in my life. He birthed that baby all by his lonesome. I like it. It's got moxie.
Also, these cro-magfucks have a female confrere who's messin' with Mr. Z, as well. She, too, was playing some game on her Nintendo DS, when Mr. Z asked:
MR. Z: Cool. Are you playing "Chibi Robo"?
Fe-Magnon: No, I'm playing "Shut up!"
Nice mouth, Frida. Again, what's with the unwarranted lip?! I have half a mind to shove a couple of peanut-butter and sarcasm sandwiches up each of her fucking nostrils. The nerve of these dipturds. Oh, and did I mention that they're in fourth grade? And Mr. Z's going into fifth?! Granted, they're probably the same age, what with his skipping a grade and all, but still. Guess they're just angry they missed the evolution bus.
I basically told the boy to ignore them, but I did manage to float a few subtle suggestions his way, just for fun. I've started referring to the brothers as "the moron twins," and suggested that instead of using their names when speaking to them, he might want to use the collective "crewcut," as in "Blow it out yer ass, Crewcut." Of course, he's too sweet a kid to ever say that and, to tell the truth, the Charles Schulz references seem to be working for him.
Let's hope his next comeback will be "Bite my scroter, Schroeder."
5 comments:
....I have half a mind to shove a couple of peanut-butter and sarcasm sandwiches up each of her fucking nostrils...Guess they're just angry they missed the evolution bus...
More Crabbydad genius.
Dang, Mr. Z preaching from the altar of Arnold Horshach. Excellent. I've got more:
Eat a cock, woodstock.
You get an f-minus, Linus.
Go take a dump-kin, Great Pumpkin.
Your ass is looking droopy, Snoopy.
I'll write those down for him, Jon. I just hope he doesn't get in trouble with Mr. Kot-taire.
Smoke a fatty, peppermint patty?
Up yer arse-ie, Marcie?
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