The bus is a mistake. And so is C'Dward Eullen's face.

Eff off, mom. You thought you could control me? Well, think again. You turned out to be just like Sam Loomis the pedo-loon, shitwench. :)

Good God.

I went to babysit at Lispeth (my hero)'s this weekend. She actually knows what she is doing as a mom, kthxcool. Like actually. She doesn't ground people for three and a half weeks. I wish she was my parent. My only parent. LISPETH, CAN YOU ADOPT ME? PLEASE?

So yeah, I went to babysit Bertha because for some awkward reason, her dad like rejected her at birth or whatever. You know like how panda moms see their tiny-ass children and they're like WHATTHEFUCKISTHISSHIT and try to eat them? And usually succeed? Well, that's pretty much Bertha's predicament. Except obviously her dad didn't eat her because she's still here and needs to be babysat. But whatever. You know what I mean.

Anyways, this is the situation: Lispeth was going to the spa for an entire weekend with her eldest daughters, and then like W. Desnay was probably off with some theme park wench, from what I understand. And she asked me to babysit her little brat. So yeah. It was just me in Bertha's fucking wing in the house aaaaaaaaaall weekend with no supervision. :)

Well now, what are we going to do about that? I asked myself this question several times on Friday as I pondered upon the hideously epic adventure which awaited me.

And then I went over to Lispeth's. Thank God I got rid of those four wench-poopies for an entire weekend! Legit, I needed the break. And deserved it. Because I am SUCH a good son. And nothing I do is ever appreciated. So whatever, those wenches can all suck my dick if they actually thought I would be unsupervised for an entire weekend and not get up off my ass.

Hah. They are so epically dumb. They're like Johnny's friend Rob Zombie, except smaller. Because Rob Zombie is like a bodybuilding gargantuan. He thinks being a gargantuan is hot, but actually, it's fugly as fuck. You look like a caveman. Actually? Go on a celery diet. Now.

Aaaaaaaaaaanyways. So I got to the house, grabbed the massive telephone, and called Jason. And his mom answered. Epic fail. So I hung up. So then I called his cell phone. And then his mom answered. And I was like "what... the... fuck... stalker." But it wasn't actually his mom. Jason was just probably wearing that belt that he insists fits him... but really, it doesn't. It really freaking doesn't. And pretty sure he sounds awkwardly like his mom when he wears it. Which is really retarded. And scary.

So I was like, "Jason, that belt does not effing fit you. Take it off. THEN COME TO LISPETH'S."

"What? Lispeth's? Did you run away from home?" Do you see how he just completely avoided the belt issue? Fucking typical, man.

But whatever. "Yeah. Lispeth's. I'm babysitting. For the whole weekend. Just come over, wench. We can watch Freddy's new videos and raid the mini-bar."

"Won't your mom find out? You can't be grounded for any longer. We haven't been to Wal-Mart in like two years."

I'm all, "I know, right? That's exactly what I told that wench the other day. No messing with the Wal-Mart, seriously."

"Totally, I mean she could have just taken away the Korn or something!"

I'm like, "No. No messing with the Korn either."

"Oh. Alrighty then."

"You are a fugwench. We are going to Wal-Mart tomorrow. kthx." Then I hung up.

So Jason showed up at Lispeth's about point two seconds later. He probably just sprinted here because he's such a fugster. You have to feel kinda bad for him, though. He's a bit of a retard and as a result, he only has me as a friend. Which is epic, and he got lucky, because I'm a REALLY EPIC FRIEND.

So yeah. When he got here we put on some of Freddy's home videos, as well as one we videotaped at Edna's. Of me flipping out. Which was slightly embarrassing. But still funny because by the time we got around to watching this one, we had consumed so many coolers from the mini-fridge that we were both laughing our asses off and slurring verses of "Mr. Sandman".

I have discovered that Jason is extremely tone-deaf when tipsy. Or maybe he's just always like that.

Anyway, at one point, I remember we tried to figure out how the shiznatch we were getting to Wal-Mart tomorrow. So we called up Freddy on two phones. "Duuuuuuuuude, tomorrow can you drive us to Wally?" (This was Jason talking, by the way. I am nowhere near this retarded when hammered.)

Freddy was like, "What? Um... if you want to rent Wall-E, you can just walk down to Blockbuster. You know it's like two o'clock in the morning, right?"

I was all, "OhmyGodseriously? That's SO funny. But yeah. Stop being a wench and drive us to Wal-Mart tomorrow. Ksweet."

"Are you two drunk?"

Jason was all. "Holy fuck yes, we're totally krunded."

"And by that he means that we are drunk," I intervened. "WAL-MART! TOMORROW! JESUS WENCH! STOP CHANGING THE SUBJECT! YOU'RE STARTING TO SOUND LIKE JASON WHENEVER SOMEONE MENTIONS HIS GAYASS FIVE-INCH BELT AND HOW HE SHOULD TAKE THE FUCKER OFF!"

Jason's all, "What?"

I'm like, "Shut up. Stop being a tard."

"I'm so confused."

"I know you are. Go fuck the couch again."

Freddy's all, "Ooooooooooooookay. Well. Hate to tell you this, bitches, but my car is completely totaled."

I'm like, "Wonderful."

"Yeah. Some fugger named Ghostbutt Hammerfuck or something inbred like that seemed to think it was a good idea to rip shit at me for egging his house the other day. And by rip shit I mean the asshole destroyed my car."

I'm all, "Wow, man, that's like tragic or something, anyway I kind of have to go now because, like, Jason just passed out on the floor beside the couch and you're starting to get really effing boring, so like, I'll call you tomorrow or something whatever and we'll pretty much hitchhike there okay? Or something? Seeeeeee you tomorrowwww."

So I hung up, all set on this hitchhiking experience. Then Jason woke up at about four, sat straight up and said, "CANWETAKETHEBUS?"

So we did.

We lurked over to the bus stop which is like three miles away from Lispeth's because our street is so retardedly long. As in, after a while it just awkwardly becomes farmland and there are like fenced-off mad cows staring at you as though they want to eat you for breakfast. And it's really awkward. Especially since me and Jason had two massive hangovers of life and Freddy messed up the bus schedule, so we ended up awkwardly standing at the corner of the street like wenches for about forty-five minutes. And we had to drag Bertha with us because like... I was babysitting her?

Freddy's all, "Sorry guys. I thought we had to take the #7, but really, it's the #5. My bad."

I was like, "Dude, Freddy? The #7 goes to CRYSTAL LAKE. How in the fugwench did you mix them up?"

Freddy had no answer to this.

I'm all, "Yep. That's what I thought, wench."

Jason's all, "Man... don't be dissing Crystal Lake."

I'm all, "Crystal-Lake-is-a-fugly-hick-town-full-of-inbred-deformed-simple-retards."

I'm pretty sure Jason actually cried, but sometimes it's hard to tell with him. Was he crying, or were his sinuses congested? Or was he having trouble with his bowels? His fugmask makes it kind of impossible to tell.

The bus finally showed up, and it picked the right time to do so, since one of the cows was getting almost dangerously close to us at the time. Then the bus driver opens the door all surprised and he's all, "Dude... I didn't know people actually lived here."

We got in. At the very back of the bus, there existed an awkward three-person seat, and it was unoccupied so we grabbed it. And we made Bertha sit on Freddy's lap. Freddy didn't seem to mind this. By this time we had a hard time to sit still because we were extremely excited to get to Wal-Mart. Or at least I was, since I'm grounded and I am currently deprived of literally all of life's epic wins.

And Jason was too, since he is forbidden to go to Wal-Mart without me.

And also, Jason always gets stupidly excited for no effing reason. Like this one time when we were like... seven, we were playing with some old pocket knives near Crystal Lake where Jason almost drowned once and then faked his death to escape the clutches of his mom for a couple of weeks, and then Jason found a huge-ass rock and he was all "OH MY GOD! LOOK AT THIS ROCK! MICHAEL! LOOK AT THIS ROCK!!!" It was absolutely retarded. I took the rock and threw it in his face. Then I got bitched at for three hours by our dear Pam, but that is so not the point. The point is that people shouldn't get excited about rocks. It is stupid and probably means you will get excited by pink and purple phones later on in life. Like Jason.

So yeah. He was hyper as fuck.

He pulled out his phone. "Hi mom! I'm good. Mom guess what guess what guess what!! WE'RE ON A BUS. Me and Mike. ... No, mom, Freddy's not here. ... No, I won't talk to strangers! ... Yeah, it's really bouncy. ... It's really bouncy. ... IT'S REALLY BOUNCY? ... Mom? ... Oh, okay. LOVE YOU. kbye."

I stared at Jason for like two minutes. He was like, "Whuh?"

I'm all, "Why does your mom call you every five minutes? It's actually the creepiest fucking shit ever."

"She just loves me."

"Yeah, she's about the only one."

"What?"

"I didn't say anything, you tard."

"Oh, okay!" He smiled weirdly, like a moose. "OH MY GOD MIKE I'M SO EXCITED. Wal-Mart, BITCH!"

I'm all, "YAY!"

Then this lady in the seat in front of us turned around and she's all, "WAL-MART?" And then she started telling us her entire life story, and it was really awkward. We just zoned her out.

We finally got to Wal-Mart. Thankfkngod.

As we walked through the parking lot, Freddy's all, "I would laugh so hard if we ran into Ceddy here."

I frowned. "Um, excuse me while I regurgitate a cow."

Jason's like, "Yeah, C'Dward's a fugster. Except I can't regurgitate a cow... because my dad's Jewish and he gets really pissed if we eat non-kosher. But I'll regurgitate like a block of tofu with you. Does that work?"

So yeah, we got into the Wal-Mart. And it was heaven. kthx.

Long story short, we ran right into Cedward and Sella Bwan. Sella Bwan was all like, "HEYBESTFRIENDDDD!!" to me and it was kind of weird since I've never spoken to her in my life.

So I just glared at Cedward. And Jason pretty much hid behind me. Which doesn't actually work since he's... well... I don't want to be mean, but he's kind of burly. Y'know? And... I'm not? So he can only like... half hide behind me?

Yeah, I'm confusing myself now.

C'Dward was all, "HiJason."

I said, "Wench please. He actually kind of hates your face. Right Jason?"

"I don't enjoy being at the centre of this."

"FUCK YOU."

Sella Bwan was all, "Wanna come to Aqua Massage?"

I was like, "No." But Freddy and Jason were like, "Yes."

Motherfucker.

So we went to Aqua Massage and it was actually kind of epic. They closed you into these big spaceship-looking things and put you in like a body bag and then squirted water all over you and shit. Epic win. But that wasn't the best part. The best part was that Sella Bwan was like, all out. She got a 20-minute session and we all got to stand there while she instructed the worker to bring up the intensity of the water jets.

"Is that hard enough, honey?" the worker asked, and then Sella was all, "No, harder! Harder!"

Can you say LOL?

So then we bailed from Aqua Massage. Pretty sure Jason and I were still kind of drunk, so we were laughing our asses off at Sella's, um, outburst the whole way back to Wal-Mart. And then, when that stopped being funny, I started laughing at the back of Cedward's head. That just never gets old. Fuck. Someone's hairdresser was on coke.

Then we went to McFuckwad, which was rather uneventful because this one is actually not a prostitute.

Then we returned to Wal-Mart and lurked in the awkward towel aisle that no one ever goes into, except this time there was this forty-year-old hobo woman there, and I'm pretty sure she was on ecstasy because she was grabbing like every towel off the shelves and giggling to herself in pure glee. It was really effing awkward.

All of a sudden, like RIGHT out of the blue, and I mean like, we were just minding our own business and then right off the bat, C'Dward pulls out some eggs out of his pocket and starts THROWING them at us.

What. The. Fuck.

I'm all, "What the wench!"

Cedward just kept dousing us with the wenchy eggs. When I was completely DRENCHED in egg whites to the point where I must have resembled a half-melted snowman, C'Dward and Sella just turned the fuck around and ran away.

I WAS PISSED.

So I ran after him, eggs and all, and tackled him to the ground. Then Jason jumped on us. Freddy was awkwardly just standing back and watching the whole thing go down. He might as well have been holding a bag of popcorn.

"Jasongetoff." I yelled, because I couldn't breathe.

Then security came and took Cedward away. Apparently, some kind Good Samaritan customer bitchwench witnessed the whole thing and feared for the safety of the poor innocent child with us (Bertha), so she called the cops on Ced. I for one could not have been happier about this.

C'Dward was all, "BYE JASON!" as they dragged him away.

I said, "Hope you get effed by corpses in prison, Wenchdward Fuglen! Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!"

Jason felt bad. And then he was just confused. "Michael?"

"What?"

"Why do I feel bad for C'Dward? Even after he awkwardly pummelled us with eggs?"

I'm all, "Because... you're retarded?"

We just left, because there was nothing left in the world to do except raid the bar at Lispeth's. Not the mini one. The big fucker. Besides, it was like six o'clock. And the bus came at like... seven forty. Which was awkward.

On the way to the bus stop Jason flipped the fuck out because he'd lost his precious pink-and-purple phone. "OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY WENCH! WHAT IF MY MOM TRIED TO CALL ME????"

"She'll survive," said Freddy.

"Um... that's debatable," I said. Then I said to Jason, "It's probably in your bag, you tard. Call it."

Jason's all, "WITH WHAT?"

"My cell?"

"Oh yeah."

"You're not the only coolster with a phone, asswench."

"Just give me the fucker."

So he called. The phone didn't ring. It actually wasn't in his bag. Impressive. He might actually be growing a brain, finally.

Suddenly, Jason looked distressed. "Um... hello?"

"Who the wench are you talking to?"

Jason ignored me. "Ummm... yes, I lost my phone... why are you talking like that? ... um... what? ... WHAT THE HELL? ... Just a second... Michael! I'm confused..." He gave me the phone.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed it. "Dickwad. Hello? Who's this? ... Oh, fun, you're a French tourist. Well then. ... Mon ami a perdu son phone, ou es-tu? Dans l'bus?"

Freddy and Jason awkwardly looked at each other. "Is he speaking English right now?"

"I think he's speaking drunk," said Jason.

"Ah, okay. Merci." I hung up. "Your phone's in the bus. Good job, Voorhees."

"IN THE BUS?" Jason exclaimed. "But I'm so confused..."

"You tard."

We got the phone back when we boarded the bus, which was approximately forty minutes late. Awesome. The bus driver looked so much like Jason's mom that at first we thought she'd hijacked the bus to come find him.

There were forty-five missed calls on Jason's phone. Two from C'Dward and the rest from his mom.

I'm all, "Epic fail, Jason."

We got back to Lispeth's, put Bertha to bed and then we got completely smashed and totally trashed the entire effing ward. And also, we watched more home videos.

Lispeth is coming home soon, so I'm going to have to head back home. But this was a pretty epic weekend.

Oh, Lispeth, and my mom, if you're reading this, all of this is part of your imagination. Legit. None of this ever happened. And also, mom, you are a complete wench. And you have auditory hallucinations. Which is why you think the cops called you yesterday.

Jason... you left your machete, three pairs of socks and a substantial portion of your mask at Lispeth's. Oh, and your Wal-Mart bag full of crap.

Epic fail.

Oh, the drama! The catfights! Sweet lord!

Even though my child is currently grounded for three and a half weeks, there still manages to be drama of the utmost ridiculousness. In other words, there still manages to be drama worthy of Mary-Sue Vrees.

Mary-Sue Vrees, in case you didn't know, is the mother of all drama queens. To give you an example of this, she once took a fit after Jason was smacked in the head with a baseball bat in math class and proceeded to spread a city-wide rumor that the perpetrator of this frankly childlike assault was actually a child prostitute. Long story short, the whole thing got way out of hand. The poor girl never recovered from the accusations, started shooting crack and is now in juvey for fraud. Also, that math teacher got fired from his job for "pedophilic tendencies", the principal is in long-term therapy, and one of the secretaries only has three fingers on her left hand now. The other one is dead.

Please don't ask me to share the long story. Please. It will take me five hours and I am not in the mood for this nonsense at the present time.

Anyway, so yeah. There is a continuum of drama queen-ness, and it pretty much goes like this:

Teen idols -> Britney Spears -> the paparazzi -> Johnny -> Oprah -> Hannibal -> Jessica Simpson -> Michael -> Mary-Sue Vrees

Yeah. Pretty much.

About forty or so minutes ago, Michael burst out of his room and barged into the living room going, "WHAT THE MOTHER OF GOD."

I sighed and I'm all, "What now." He's been acting rather awkwardly (read: irritably, irrationally, inconceivably) for about a week now. I don't understand. Is this puberty??

Michael then proceeded to look kind of like a beached whale. "C'DWARD EULLEN IS A WENCH AND SO IS HIS MOM."

I'm all, "DO NOT talk like that about Matilda! Or her step son! For the love of God, Michael, what on Earth did that poor boy ever do to you?"

"HE IS TRYING TO TURN JASON INTO A BUTT PIRATE. JESUS LORD ALMIGHTY OF ALL HEAVENS. WENCH."

There is one sure-fire way to know when Michael has gone into what we like to call his "dark zone". He begins to punctuate his ravings with Biblical terms and names of the Holy family.

Dear sweet mother, what has become of my poor angry child? He was so sweet before he learned to talk. WHAT HAPPENED?

"Michael, stop quoting Father Whatshisface and talk to your MOMMY," I pleaded. And then I realized what he had just said. "Turn Jason into a what now?"

But Michael did not answer because he had picked up the phone and, before I could say a word about his being grounded, had dialed and was impatiently waiting. After a few seconds his mask becomes pure evil and he's all, "JASON! WHAT THE WENCH! ... You know exactly what I'm talking about. What did you do after you left my house on Christmas Eve? Huh? ... Oh yeah, I'm sure. I'm sure you watched A Nightmare on Elm Street. Bitch. You had phone sex with Cedward, didn't you? (At this point I very clearly heard Jason's strangled voice going "WHAT????!?!?!?!!" with multiple exclamation and question marks from the other end of the line) ... BITCH PLEASE. Do not lie to Michael. Michael knows when you are bullshitting him! Traitor! You defected to the side of the awkward gay losers who pick their noses. ... Don't act all confused. Matilda posted it on her blog! You were WOOED, Jason! ... Oh my God, why am I even friends with you? ... Fuck off. Your mom's a whore. ... Shut up. ... Jason, please. I'm not handicapped like you, so stop BULLSHITTING ME. ... I never thought you would stoop this low. ... You can act all grossed out all you want, you fugster. ... Yep, pretty much. You're ugly as fuck. No wonder the only person who's ever liked you ever is Cedward Effin Eullen. ... You play with CRAYOLAS. ... You're hideous. ... Fuck off. Freddy would not have had PHONE SEX WITH CEDWARD AS A PRANK CALL, BITCH. STOP BLAMING OTHER PEOPLE FOR YOUR LEWD ACTIONS. ... Yes, I've met Freddy. What the MARY MOTHER OF JESUS CHRIST are you insinuating? ... Mother of God. You whore. I no longer enjoy you as a person. Go wench yourself on streetcorners. ... You can't come over in a month and play Manhunt anymore. Hah. Haha. So there. ... It wasn't Freddy, bitch, it was you. IT WAS YOU. YOU WHORED YOURSELF TO CEDWARD, AND NOW YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH THE CONSEQUENCES. GO GET RUN OVER BY A PLOUGH."

Michael hung up the phone and ran (and by ran I mean walked awkwardly slowly and stiffly) upstairs into his room, where he proceeded to blast the following playlist:

Korn
Korn
Korn
Korn
Korn
Korn
Mr. Sandman
Korn
Korn

I now have to go up there and make sure he doesn't Korn himself into oblivion. Please excuse me. I must go tend to my motherly duties.

Oh, the drama! 

We made a song.

Me and Jason were extremely bored out of our wits (like my deceased grandmother would say) at his mom’s tiny-ass Christmas dinner (since she has no friends aside from my mom, who really just feels sorry for her. Really she doesn’t actually like her that much. Lol. Epic fail, Pam. BUT JASON AND I STILL LOVE YOU. EVEN THOUGH YOU ARE A NUTWENCH. :)), so we slipped away into the living room and decided to destroy “Santa Baby” and re-write the lyrics. Lol. So we did. And we are now going to share our masterpiece with you.

And before you say anything, I am getting grounded for like twenty years sometime today anyway, so I really don’t care that this is “horrible”. And neither does Jason, because he is a spoiled momma’s boy who never gets grounded, and also his mom does not even know the basics of how to get onto the Internet. So she’ll never see this anyway. So yeah. We don’t fcare. kthx.


“Santa Baby – the REAL version”
rectified by Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees

To the tune of “Santa Baby” by... that awkward female hooker “singer” with two ferrets up her nostrils, legit, whoever she is.

To be sung in the point of view of C’Dward Eullen.


Santa baby, just slip your fat ass under the tree
For me
Because I’ve always wanted a fat,
Old man to slide right down my chimney at night

Santa baby, you’ve got the cutest hat in the world
Yeah I’ve got
A little hat fetish here
Santa baby, just slide right down my chimney tonight

Think of all the joy you bring
To me, ‘cause I like fat guys in winter coats
It sucks I only see you once a year
That’s how long it takes to get your mind unblown

Santa baby, you’re carrying one hell of a stick
I like sticks
And furthermore I’m a hick
Santa baby, you sure you’ll fit in the chimney tonight?

Santa sweetpea, you picked a good gerontophile
To love
I’m shinin’ like the yellowest star
I don’t think you should eat all those damn cookies tonight

Santa sexy, you know I love you more than I should
Because
You have a lot of cash and I am
Pretty much the most h-core gold digger ever

Come fulfill my Christmas dreams
And by dreams I mean naughty fantasies
I really think you’re sexy shit
Do you think I look fat in this?

Santa baby... forgot to mention one little thing
Viagra
Because you’re gonna need it tonight
Santa baby, get your ass down my chimney right now

Get your ass down that chimney tonight!



Isn't that epic?

What do C'Dward Eullen and the McDonald's at the big Wal-Mart have in common? They're both awkward a-hole fuggers with two mommies.

Oh, and they both charge you for sauce.

Yep. I'm not kidding.

Jason showed up at my house at seven o'clock in the morning today and he's like, "TsgodosomeChristmasshopping." He's been sounding like a possessed demon - in other words kind of like Edna's kid Damien - and understandably so ever since we found out that that wench, C'Dward Eullen, apparently is in lurve with him.

Isn't that gross?

And since Jason has a purple cell phone with pink stars and red hearts, as well as a baby pink cloud van which he actually WOULDN'T rather die than drive in public, I have come to the conclusion that we must rid ourselves of C'Dward before the latter succeeds in wooing our poor simple Jason. I've been telling him at every opportunity, "Jason, listen to me, man. You start chilling with that Cedward fellow on a regular basis and you will - not might - catch the swine flu. And by swine flu I mean an infatuation with C'Dward Eullen. Who is gross."

Jason always smiles and nods when I tell him this shit, but I can't help but be afraid for his safety. He smiled and nodded when I told him not to go to the big mall on Boxing Day last year, and guess who went to the big mall on Boxing Day last year and escaped its indecent claustrophobia and unnecessary solicitation only to go outside and get run over by a road-raging cell phone user? Now, I'm not the type to say "ITOLDYOUSO!" like a snotty three-year-old... but you catch my drift.

As much as we all like having Jason around, sometimes... well... he ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Let's put it that way.

Yep. Getting rid of C'Dward is the only way to get us all out of this period of nonsense at this point. Dude, sorry Matilda.

So I took Jason's little gay cell phone and I called up our little effer and invited him to come to the big Wal-Mart with us. Figured we'd have to suffer a bit in order to obtain just reward. C'Dward was like... weirdly, stupidly excited to come with us. I cringed and hung up the phone.

I said, "Okay Jason, all you have to do is be really gross and retarded all day. If that doesn't make Fugward stop oggling you, nothing will."

"So basically, just be myself right? That's what you're going to say?" Jesus Christ, this dude gets so defensive for no fucking reason all the time. That's what happens when you live with a freaking menopausal borderline-schizophrenic woman.

I'm like, "Holy PMS. No, actually, being yourself probably won't be enough to get this mofo off your tail. We have to surround ourselves by an environment that will allow you to reach your full grossness potential."

"You mean like McDick's?" Jason gasped.

"Stop calling it that. It makes you sound almost as homo as that phone makes you look. But yes. McFucker is exactly where we're going."

"McDonny's is where it's at."

"You're trying to sound chill and it's not working."

"But I don't understand."

"But you don't have to. Oh... and I'm pretty sure this has a way better chance of working if we drag Freddy along."

Jason laughs and he's like, "Yeah. He tends to scare a lot of potential friends and crushers away."

I'm all, "Yeah, that too. I mostly meant he's pretty much the only way we're ever going to get to the big Wal-Mart. Ever."

"Oh. Yeah."

So once we had our little plan all figured out, we called Freddy up and at first he was pissed off because he was busy filming some shit that's probably really epic, but once we informed him of the situation at hand, he departed into hysterics and told us he'd be over (with his inconspicuous camera-fedora, which is almost awkwardly red, and thus makes him look like a very evil, Mexican Santa Claus) in five minutes. When he showed up, Jason’s all, “THE FUGGER!” I ran to the living room window and, indeed, Freddy’s car was in the driveway. So we, like, bailed.


“Dude we’re not going to the tiny, awesome Wal-Mart like usual.” I told Freddy this when we hopped into the back of the vehicle. We always lurk in backseats. Freddy would be stuck with C’Dward as shotgun. Sucks to be him. We weren’t about to tell him this, though. “We’re going to the huge, efftarded one attached to the big mall.”

He’s all, “Yeah, gathered that when you kept saying ‘BIG!’ over and over again on the phone.”

I ignored this. “Yeah and by the way we’re picking up Fugward. Can’t risk him not being able to find a way there.” Freddy gave me an awkward, stick-up-my-ass face. I’m like, “He’s kind of the whole point of our excursion, dude.”

“Like actually,” Jason added for good measure.

So we showed up in front of the little mother’s house and had to honk like fifteen times before his brain finally turned on (if that’s possible) and he came skipping through the door. He epic failed on a patch of ice on the way out of the driveway, which was, um, AWESOME.

He’s all, “Helloeverywuun” very nasally. We all grunted in response. Except Freddy, who is always annoyingly vocal about everything. He was like, “Hi, bitch.”

Freddy calls everyone “bitch”, even his four dads. It’s really awkward. But slightly awesome as well.

We sped toward the big mall at around twelve thousand miles an hour. Then we got stuck in traffic for like twenty minutes, all because a fucking eighteen wheeler was trying to turn left, which requires like six lanes and people were too moronic and jello-brained to let the poor fucker through. Then this dude actually passed in front of the buddy in front of him to turn left, cutting us off. We all gave buddy the finger. Except C’Dward, who gave him an awkward Spock sign.

This is how we found out that C’Dward is a huge Trekkie. Yeah. Which is awkward because Pamela Voorhees is not only Jason’s mother but also the mother of all Trekkies, which means that, by association, Jason is kind of slightly a Trekkie as well. Which makes Cedfucker twice as likely to be able to woo Jason. Which makes him twice as likely to be poisoned by a bad batch of Demon Squares; sorry buddy, but that’s how it works around here. Tough luck for you. I shrug at your protests. You don’t just woo innocent Jasons like that. Actually? No. Fuck off.

RIGHT FREDDY? FUCK OFF!

Cedward’s like, “Why didn’t we just go to the small mall?” He’s been yapping at Jason the whole ride, which is awkward. And Freddy and I are just sitting there. Lack of manners much?

Jason’s all, “Because we wanted to go to McDi – OUCH! I mean McFucker!”

“Ooh! I love their McChicken sauce!” You fucker. You flirt like a granny. I’m sure you love Jason’s McChicken sauce, too. Huh? That’s what you were insinuating by that disgustingly suggestive remark. Don’t lie to me. You can’t lie to Michael. Michael knows when you are bullshitting him, you asswench.

I could not wait until we got this bastard out of our masks once and for all. Apparently, Freddy couldn’t either because he started honking like nuts at the truck.

Eventually, we got to McDonald’s. We had to park in the sticks, but that’s okay, because it allowed Jason to bring out an exaggerated version of his “burlesque deformed handicapped limping man about to kill you” walk. Freddy looked sceptically at me and I hissed, “Don’task.”

C’Dward just stared at the poor, sorry fellow.

WITH LUST.

There was a lineup the size of my mom’s friend Edna and all her husbands combined at McDonald’s. I said, “Jesus Christ, all we want is a couple of McChickens.” And for this fucker to be traumatized all the way to bloody demon hell, I added in my head in regards to Freddy, who was repeatedly clicking two of his claws together nerve-grindingly.

And about C’Dward too, obviously.

So we finally get up to the counter and the lady’s like, “Can I help you?”

I jumped in front of C’Dward. “Yup! I want a Crispy Chicken.”

Then Jason, Freddy and C’Dward ordered. Typically, C’Dward ordered Snack Wraps. Snack Wraps are potentially the gayest thing ever to be offered on the McDonald’s menu ever, so it seems fitting that C’Dward would order them. And three of them, no less. They look like sticks full of ranch sauce.

C’Dward Eullen has three sticks.

I had instructed Jason to order something which requires a lot of McChicken sauce to properly consume... so the fucker gets an upsized quarter pounder meal. What. The. Fuck.

I hissed, “WHOPUTSMCCHICKENSAUCEONAQUARTERPOUNDER.” Jason’s all shrugging like, whatever-too-late-now-I-already-ordered. As we stood there waiting for our grub, I decided Jason slobbering all over a McChicken-sauce-filled quarter pounder was pretty much the grossest thing ever. Which was our goal. So it was all good.

So we got our food and the lady’s like, “Have-a-nice-day,” and I just stood there and I’m like, “Can we get some McChicken sauce? Like lots of it?”

And I swear to God this happened. The lady looked at me like a cow looks at an oncoming train and she was all, “Actually, I have to charge for McChicken sauce.

We, all four of us, were like, “WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAT?” The world had just come to an end.

“McDonald’s is a prostitute!” shouted Freddy inappropriately. Everyone just kind of looked at him for two seconds before going about their business, a.k.a. pigging out on McShit.

I looked at the lady. “Are you serious, wench?”

She nodded solemnly.

“Well, it’s not like I’m just going to NOT get McChicken sauce. This is a power play. I do not approve.”

The lady nodded solemnly again.

We all pitched in and got ten bucks worth of the white shit.

Jason goes to take a straw and this pimply employee dude who looks like he probably jizzes to a poster of Ronald McDonald at night is like, “Wait, now. It’s fifty cents a straw.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

I’m all, “Take this fucker down, Jason.”

“Wait,” said Jason. He looked at the straw like a stranded moose. “I’m so confused!”

“Are you the only effing McDonald’s that charges for straws? And McChicken sauce?” exclaims Freddy. “Because I’m pretty sure you are.”

“WHAT A TRAVESTY!” yells C’Dward, who is obviously trying to impress Jason with big literary words. It isn’t going to work, you jaundiced hermaphrodite. Jason has to my knowledge never read a book in his life. His dyslexia stops him. So save your big dictionary wooing terms for someone who actually reads the whole dictionary every night like you. Kthx. Go masturbate to your mommies’ old-ass Webster’s. Kcool.

We went to sit down, but not before being charged 8.50 to use the table. We go to sit and he’s like, “Fifty cents for the chairs.”

We gave him the fifty cents, grabbed the chairs and left the store with our McShit and our pile of McChicken sauce. In your face. McFuckOff.

We get to that one aisle of like towels that no one ever goes into in the big-ass Wal-Mart, and I’m all, “Let’s park here.” We set down our chairs and then Jason immediately starts shitting the McChicken sauce onto his burger. Like ON THE BURGER. Not even inside. Right on the damn bun. Then, when the top of it looks like it got snowed on, Jason’s all like “YUM!” in a tone very reminiscent of Hannibal, and he actually picked up the bun and slathered the whole patty with sauce.

“Appetizing,” commented Freddy.

Jason basically squatted very disgustingly on his chair and tried to shove the whole nasty mess in his mouth at once. He had to sort of peel off his mask slightly to do this. Which is why my mask is so much better than his. Mine actually has a mouth hole. His is a hockey mask, so if he made a mouth hole it would just look retarded.

This is epic. This is going exactly according to plan.

C’Dward was just entirely traumatized at this point, trying not to stare at the massacre currently happening before his eyes. His lust appeared to be replaced by disgust, WHICH IS WHAT WE WANT.

Just for good measure, Jason belched about fifteen times on the way out of Wal-Mart. He also scratched his ass a lot when he was walking in front of C’Dward. But apparently, C’Dward has a higher grossness tolerance than I do, because once we got back in the car, there fucking Cedward was, talking to Jason again the whole way back!

Motherfucker.

We dropped him off first and I yelled “WENCH!” out the window at him as we drove off.

Then Jason has the nerve to say, “Dude, maybe you shouldn’t be so mean to C’Dward.”

I’m all, “What?”

Freddy’s all, “Oh bitch. Bitch bitch bitch.”

Jason’s like, “What? He was nice to us like, all day.”

“Jason. What doesn’t your little fluffy pink and purple brain understand? HE IS TRYING TO WOO YOU. HE IS OBVIOUSLY GOING TO BE NICE. HE IS TRYING TO GET INSIDE YOUR PANTS. DO I NEED TO SKETCH YOU A PICTURE.”

“Well -”

“Look, I know you’re not used to being fawned over, so I’ll give you a bit of a break, but FUCK OFF WENCH. It’s C’Dward Eullen. It’s like feeling bad for a corpse. Do you feel bad for corpses, Jason?”

“No.”

“Do you want to be nice to corpses, Jason?”

“No! Jesus fuck!”

“Do you want corpses in your pants? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you get all nice and friendly with Cedward. You will get effed by corpses.”

“I really do not care to be effed by corpses. Okay. Fine. So we’re not going to be nice to C’Dward. Cool. Jesus Christ.”

“Great,” I said. “Glad we have an agreement.”

Freddy – who’s been like “oooooooooooooooooookay...” the whole time, by the way – dropped us off at my house. Jason kind of looked like he wanted to come in and maybe play Manhunt for a couple of hours, but quite frankly, I, and not C’Dward apparently, was rather disgusted with the asshole at the moment.

So I just called him Shitface and went home.

Since apparently NOTHING grosses this fucker (C’Dward) out, we now need another plan to get him the eff away from us (and especially Jason). If anyone has any ideas, let us know.

kthx.

Ironically enough, C'Dward saved the day!

So Michael and Jason were fighting for like a week and it was awkward.

And by "fighting" I mean they stayed shut inside their rooms and avoided each other like the plague. Which is what they always do when they fight, and which is so much more awkward than if they were to just bitch each other out every day and plot to egg each other's houses like they do when they get into disagreements with Frederick.

I hate seeing Michael and Jason have a fight because Michael always gets extremely "Oh-my-God-eff-my-life-I-have-no-friends-everyone-hates-me-even-the-deformed-hockey-fanatic-across-the-street-who-drives-his-mommy's-pink-cloud-van!"

And I'm afraid to get a phone call from Mary-Sue Vrees informing me that Jason climbed on top of Alfred Benedict's shitty green snow plough and jumped.

So obviously, I, having quite enough on my plate without this nonsense - and without Johnny literally SCREAMING at the wok downstairs for the past four days - I've been trying to get them to reconcile. So after a couple days of Michael blubbering and trying to be a "tough guy who doesn't give a shit about anything so eff off wench" in his room, I knocked on the door and quite frankly invited myself in because he wasn't responding.

He's all plopped on his bed with his face in the pillow like someone who needs medical assistance, and I'm all exasperated like, "Michael... why can't you just call Jason and TALK to him?"

Michael blubbers, "Because we don't TALK. That's not what we DO. GOD Mom."

I shrugged like a science nerd who is socially awkward and exaggerates her movements. "But WHY? Michael, you didn't even go to school this week pretty much because you didn't want to have to face him. Isn't that cowardly? You're never going to fix things if you hide out like kicked puppies in your room for a year! You know that!"

Michael just sits up stiffly and glares at me. "TheonlyreasonIstayinmyeffingroomalleffingdayisbecauseifIgotoeffingschooleffingFreddyandothershittyeggfreaksaregoingtomakeusdoa"Michaelvs.Jason". And there is NO WAY we're making a "Michael vs. Jason" because Jason and I made a frigging spit swear when we were like four that never in the entire history of our lives would we EVER fight on camera. A SPIT SWEAR MOM. You just don't go back on that shit, like actually."

I smiled fake-sweetly. "Awww, that's touching. NOW GO ACROSS THE STREET AND TALK TO THE POOR CHILD BEFORE HE COMMITS SUICIDE."

Michael crosses his arms. "Or what?"

"Or you're grounded for fifty years," I said.

Michael plopped back down handicappedly onto his bed, muttering "wench" under his breath.

He didn't go across the street. Apparently, not ever the menace of being grounded for fifty years could make him talk to Jason at this point. Then randomly, he came home from school on Friday, slammed the door behind him and said, "Oh by the way mom me and Jason are friends again."

I just made a huge smile and said, "OH THAT'S GREAT HONEY. You finally talked to him?" I was all proud of my boy. Having the courage to admit responsibility for whatever it was he'd done? Yeah, that's what I teach my child here. I've taught him well!

And then he was all, "Nope. He called me last night at like seven while you were out playing poker with Edna. Apparently they got invited to C'Dward Eullen's house for dinner, and - OH BY THE WAY C'DWARD EULLEN HAS TWO MOMMIES. Isn't that awkward?"

"Michael! Stop discriminating!"

"Sorry, it's just fudging hilarious. Anyways... so like he calls me from the bathroom on his awkward purple phone with pink stars and red hearts on it which he says belongs to his sister, but he doesn't have a sister so that makes no sense -"

"Michael! Get to the point?"

"Jesus Christ mom, let me talk! ... Anywaaaaaays, so he was all like, 'Okay so I know we're not speaking to each other right now, but EDWARD CULLEN HAS A CRUSH ON ME. AND I'M IN HIS HOUSE. HELP.' And I was like... 'Dude who the FUCK is Edward Cullen?'... but he meant C'Dward obviously. He's just dyslexic and it's awkward and annoying, but whatever. So then it was so incredibly hilarious that C'Dward Eullen apparently has a thing for Jason - because it's JASON and he's a fugster - that we were like AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA and we totally forgot we hated each other. So yeah. We're friends again!"

I said, "YAY!" and it was like a small yet giant weight was lifted off my slightly robust, chair-like shoulders that have an air of bittersweet triumph to them. And that sounded like Margaret Atwood. Which is really very silly because she is Robert's favorite author and I hate her and want to burn her books at the stake.

I am only now realizing that I have no sweet clue what this giant week-long feud between my Siamese twins of a son and an "adopted son" was actually about. As in, at all. I should probably ask Michael about this tomorrow. Then again, I might not because quite frankly, I am seriously tired of this bullshit.

No really. I am.