Three kids come down to the kitchen and sit around the breakfast table. The mother asks the oldest boy what hed like to eat.
“Ill have some f#ckin French toast,” he says.
The mother is outraged at his language, hits him, and sends him upstairs. She asks the middle child what he wants.
“Well, I guess that leaves more f#ckin French toast for me,”
he says.
She is livid, smacks him, and sends him away. Finally she asks the youngest son what he wants for breakfast.
“I dont know,” he says meekly, “but I definitely dont want the f#ckin French toast.”
“Ill have some f#ckin French toast,” he says.
The mother is outraged at his language, hits him, and sends him upstairs. She asks the middle child what he wants.
“Well, I guess that leaves more f#ckin French toast for me,”
he says.
She is livid, smacks him, and sends him away. Finally she asks the youngest son what he wants for breakfast.
“I dont know,” he says meekly, “but I definitely dont want the f#ckin French toast.”
