In the car. Need gas. :-( Get gas. K's hungry, but Big informs me he's good. Get Chick-fil-A for K & feed it to him as we weave through traffic. "Safely".
We're going to die.
(Should this actually happen, in my newspaper obit, please make my passing the result of something more exciting like getting knifed in a transvestite turf war or a mysterious & tragic rodeo accident. Maybe a brief mention of the dead bird I almost stepped on today, but went around...because I care. And it was gross.)
Not 1 damned mile down the road, Big announces that he's "a little hungry" & starts rifling through the snack bag. God almighty!!
K's running 14 eBay auctions from the responsibility-free comfort of the front seat & there's more rustling in the snack bag in the backseat. It's going to rain damned M&M'S snack mix when he rolls this sonovabitch.
Perhaps include something about how I always liked to help people...?
I had a giant glass of wine before we left home, yet I can still feel little feet kick, Kick, KICKING the back of my seat. Curious.
On our way ;-)
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