Friday, March 19, 2010

Why I'm Not allowed to Babysit Anymore

Father: [Opening door] Dan! Thanks for coming over.

Me: Oh, it was no problem- I’m just happy to help a neighbor in need.

Mother: Well that’s very sweet of you.

Me: Isn’t it though?

Mother: uh, yeah. Yes it is.

Father: Well, we’d better get going if we’re going to make the movie. Tucker! Billy!

Kids: [From other room] Yeah Dad?

Father: We’re going, be good for Dan, Ok?

Kids: Okay.

Father: If you want to watch TV Tucker can show you how to use the remote, and help your self to anything in the fridge. Our cell number’s on the counter.

Mother: Bye kids!

Kids: Bye Mom!

[The parents leave, and the kids enter.]

Tucker: Hey Dan, what are we- what are those?

Me: What are whats?

Billy: those jars. What are in the jars; you have like, fifty of them.

Me: Oh, these? This is moonshine; it’s what grown up’s use to drown out the numbness and repress memories! And if you kids are good, you might just get some mixed in with your chocolate milk for what we call “nap time”.

Tucker: Why do you-

Me: [Smashing a recently emptied moonshine jar on the wall] So is your Mom seeing anybody or what?

20 minutes later

Stupid kid #1: Hey Dan, I know we weren’t supposed to interrupt you while you were watching Xena Warrior Princess unless we “grew a pair of tits”-

Stupid kid #2: which you still haven’t told us how to do.

Stupid Kid #1: But that fire you started in the bathroom is starting to get a little bit out of hand. Could we call the fire department?

Me: the fire department? Man, fuck those guys! They’re always like “stop putting gasoline on your sister” and “seven people died because you filled the fire hydrants with cherry Jell-o mix”. Am I right?

Stupid kid #1: Well, Ok. I guess, do you want to play Boggle or something?

Stupid kid #2: we’d play video games, but you sold our GameCube.

Me: Well I had to pay that prostitute somehow, didn’t I, you little smartass?”

Stupid kid #1: Risk- how about risk?

Me: That’s stupid. We’re not doing that.

Stupid kid #1: Well… Okay. What are we doing instead then?

Stupid kid #2: I don’t want to play catch the knife again.

Me: [sigh} I have an idea. You kids ever seen the movie Gladiator?

Stupid kid #1: Not really. Are we going to watch it?

Me: Mother Fucker, you’re going to live it!

A few hours later

Douchebag father: Hey everybody, we’re hooooooh my god is that broadsword?

Me: Oh hey, you’re home!

The one with the tits: Is….. That an arena? Did you turn my living room into a gladiatorial arena?

Me: Yes, yes I did. Why, are you turned on by that?

The one with the tits: What?

Douchebag father: You’re drunk!

Me: Hey, you know you’re not one who should be getting all judgmental Mr. my-children-are-tripping-balls-on-ether!

Douchebag father: They’re what-ing on what now?

One of the stupid, stupid kids: Dad? I think Billy needs to go to the hospital. He’s bleeding a lot.

Me: Oh man, you should have seen it- he took a trident right to the torso. Little bastard went down hard, didn’t you pussy?

The thing that wouldn’t shut up: Dan said to walk it off.

Me: Damn right I told you to walk it off! And did you?

The thing that wouldn’t shut up: No.

Me: No you did not, and that’s why you’re never going to make it as gladiator!

Douchebag father: Jesus Christ!

Me: I gave the little fucker a sponge for the bleeding, but he just keeps whining.

The one with the Tits: Oh my god, call an ambulance!

Me: Hey, c’mon, let’s all just sit down and have some moonshine! We’re just about to release the tigers for round 3!

Douchebag father: We have to- wait, you got tigers?

Me: Well, I got a tiger. For the other two I had to duct tape some knives to your cats.

Douchebag father: Alright, you need to get the fuck out of here before I call the police.

Me: Oh, they don’t respond to calls about me anymore. Besides, I’ve got to take something out of the oven in a few minutes. I’ll give you a hint: its crack!

Douchebag father: GET OUT!

Me: Fine, fine. Oh, and by the way, I broke your TV.

[The dickwad father acts like he’s shoving me out the front door and slamming it in my face, but he’s totally trying to feel me up, the pervert.]

Me: [yelling through the window] Am I getting paid or what?

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