Children, I love scooters. A more civilized way of traveling. They also remind me of highly refined Italy where I go every summer. There everybody’s on scooters going ‘Ciaooo!’ Just, you know, I do it much better.
Now’s your chance to make a break for it, kid. Slam on the gas, find a new town, a new mom and a new fucking first name that isn’t Apple.
” A helmet for her? ….No…you said you’d be driving on dirt roads. Dirt is natural so it can’t hurt her, even if she smacks her head off it.”
If that scooter does not run on thrice distilled angel tears, the nanny is getting her ass kicked.
“Now you put the brick on the accelerator, I’ll disengage the kickstand, and soon we’ll be rich from the insurance money!”
Reverse the scooter and run her over!
Did I mention that my cutoff jean shorts are made from the finest hand-woven Egyptian cotton? Because they are, YOU FUCKING PEONS!
And this is the place mommy’s head fits in at the end of the movie!
Ah, good times, good times,…
It’s fun to pretend. Everyone knows her children simply look skyward and ascend to the stratosphere for travel. Powered by their minds and spotless intestinal tracts.
GOOPy does have nice buttcheeks.
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