Turning Shit into Gold since 2006
Upon entering an all you can eat pizza buffet there should never be the expectation of ever coming in contact with anyone who posses and properly displays exceptional moral codes of conduct, so it came as no surprise when my family and I were forced to come face to face with a woman who most definitely holds a black belt in the dark art of bad parenting. The unfortunate encounter took place at a Mr. Gatti’s pizza playland where an obese, saggy chested woman was shamelessly shoving a pile of ranch soaked shredded cheese into the mouth of an atrophic child who slumped next to her in his undersized high chair. Her equally repulsive, belt-busting husband stared listlessly at a large television screen that was blaring Cartoon Network to a room full of carbohydrate stuffed midday grazers.
Once she was done force feeding her toddler a dangerous dose of dairy there was no stopping her from going on a game room rampage, cursing the broken machines and slamming her hands violently on ones with low ticket output, all while her little ball of blubber trailed sluggishly behind.
Meanwhile, Daddy lactose lurked between the numerous arcade games with all the wonderment of a blind kid in a candy store. The alluring bikini clad computer babes of Guitar Hero dazzled him intensely for only a moment. Instead of fantasy boobies and classic rock riffs it was the prospect of plucking a stuffed Stewie doll with a metal claw from a glass case that ate up a majority of his hard-earned tokens.
As the dysfunctional family outing came to its calorie clogged close, the scale-tipping trio traded their tickets for tacky trinkets before exiting the eatery. One alien head lamp later and the fun was done. The swinging utter mother was gone forever, dragging her sad sack of a husband and their poor excuse for procreation sluggishly along.