The Foul Mouthed Boy

In the summer months of 99 the Missus and I took the brood and did the Europe thing. It cost me a f*ckin bundle to drag those brats over there. What a f*ckin hassle. My youngest son Felix was a g*ddam jerk, the f*ckin little assh*le and I told him so many times, the little pr*ck. I don’t think I’ll take that f*ckin idiot out in public ever again cept maybe to a 49er’s game. A f*ckin embarrassment he was. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a good father and I love the b*stard but he can be such a f*ckin pain in the butt sometimes. Anyways in London we saw The Charts Cathedral and that Bucking Ham Palace thing where they do the changing of the guards trip or what ever that is… (what the f*ck are those stiff geeks guarding anyways…you got me buddy!) Anyways later that day we get to that Notre Dame place and f*ckin Felix decides to call out the hunchback…you know the one from the Disney cartoon. And the little b*stard is yelling up at the bell tower,"Come out you f*ckin hunchback, I’ll ring your bell!"All those gay Paris peoples with those felt plates on their heads were standing around with their mouths in their sandals. Christ, the Missus and I were so f*ckin embarrassed, I blew my cork and started screaming obsenities at Felix… in public no less, acting like some white trash-mouth cracker head. I could have killed the motherf*cker right there. I don’t think I’ll ever take my son, the b*stard any f*ckin place ever f*ckin again in this f*ckin lifetime. He’s such a foul mouthed boy. I don’t know where he picks up this f*ckin sh*t, the b*stard. Probably at school on the tax payer’s dime no less. Maybe I should just keep him at home so he’ll grow up to be a polite young man. Yeh, maybe I should just do that.