I want to beat you to death with a blunt object! I want to grab one of those high end fashion mannequins and bash your rib cage in! I want to sharpen 50 pencils, bind them with a rubber band, stick the lead in your mouth and punch the erasers! I want to strap you to a bed of nails, then strap that bed of nails to the good of my car and watch you suffer as we drive over speed bumps in a mall parking lot during an earthquake! I want you to somehow survive a terrible car crash and somehow not survive a small fender-bender on the way back from the hospital!
Thank you, that’s called “Dad.”
