Kenny “Mud” Lark returned home once more to his increasingly indifferent mother…”That’s nice.” she listlessly responded to his proclamation of yet another pathetic loss. Hmm, she was wearing her sexy bracelets again. He’d have to impress her in some way before she lost interest permanently. But HOW?
Ah, he knew! His full bottle of Grey Sneh Vodka…Kenny always kept it handy in the “Milford Refuses Your Recycling” bin. (That thing would never get picked up…) If he could get Ma nice and liquored up during a drive to Make-Out Point in the ol’ convertible, she was bound to let him get to at least second base. Hey, it had worked before. Usually it took about five shots before she was willing to look past his enigmatic blond-brown hair wig and Scorsese eyebrows.
Plus, Kenny supposed, reigniting things with Mom was bound to make that athletic Molly jealous…if only that evil Dr. Scavuzzo wasn’t getting in the way of his master plan. But there was time to make Scavuzzo pay. And yeah, he was gonna be one sorry son of a bitch doctor next week. Kenny wryly smirked as he wrapped him arm ever tighter around mom on the drive up the hill. It was gonna be a good night.
“Tell you what, miss FOOZLE. If you can FOOZLE the ball 200 FOOZLE, I’ll give you 20 FOOZLE.”
[Mighty untrained FOOZLE!]
“Having FOOZLE, Molly?”
“Other than the evil Dr. Scavuzzo and his pig FOOZLES FOOZLING at me, it’s a FOOZLE. If only someone would make that FOOZLE doctor pay.”