Dude fuack Timmy. That little ♥♥♥♥♥♥ never took the trash out, never did the dishes, and left his room a mess CONSTANTLY. His mom dies and you know what that little cuum stain asked me? "Where's mommy's life insurance money?" Like idk Timmy, I banged your mom behind a 7/11 because she was the only girl at this bar I was at that was drunk enough to start crying and start spewing on about her life issues, nine miserable months later she shatt you out. So the kids birthday is coming up, his mom is dead from a Xanax overdose I think, and my son and I hate eachother. I say to myself, you know what? Fuack it, let's get some real father and son bonding time so maybe he'll stop being such a little asshowle. So I go and ask that fairy fuack where he wanted to go for his bday and out of every generic place you could possibly think of, the little fuack says "Madagascar". Like who in the fuack comes up with that?? Well rather than explain to his poorly developed brain on why that's the dumbest ♥♥♥♥♥♥ he could've said, I tell him "fuack it" and book some tickets to Hawaii. That prepubescent coock fuack wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway. So we're flying over some ocean, idk, the Atlantic Ocean, American Ocean, who gives a fuack, just some ocean where they got sharks and ♥♥♥♥♥♥. Well while I'm reclining back in my card board seat with the leg space so tight I can feel my balls pressing up on the front tray table, I guess those two dimwitted "pilots" we're getting more wasted than a sorority girl at a frat party and crash the fuacking plane. As I'm waking up from what feels like the worst hangover of my life, other than the time I woke up after fuacking Timmy's mom (still can't remember her name) this kid pulls the ultimate middle finger. Some savage Neanderthal looking fuacks (thank you God to Christopher Columbus for taking care of that problem back home) come aboard the plane that looked worse than my studio apartment during my repeated freshman year of community college, and grab Timmy. Out of all the rational responses you would expect that potential blowwjob to have, you know surviving a plane crash killing almost everyone only to be met by some random canniabls. He gets carried away in their arms, only to look back at me, smiling, and then gives me a little wink. That ungrateful fuack left my asss stranded with nothing more than some sodas, snack bars, pieces of cloth and a random axe. Whoever got that pass TSA btw, kudos bro. It's been about a month and through the countless amounts of cannibals I've killed, still no sign of Timmy. Pretty sure he joined them just so he could eat some of my flesh one day and actually become a fuacking man. I swear once I find him, I'm gonna give him one good last spanking.........with that axe.

Dude fuack Timmy. That little shiite never took the trash out, never did the dishes, and left his room a mess CONSTANTLY. His mom dies and you know what that little cuum stain asked me? "Where's mommy's life insurance money?" Like idk Timmy, I banged your mom behind a 7/11 because she was the only girl at this bar I was at that was drunk enough to start crying and start spewing on about her life issues, nine miserable months later she shatt you out. So the kids birthday is coming up, his mom is dead from a Xanax overdose I think, and my son and I hate eachother. I say to myself, you know what? Fuack it, let's get some real father and son bonding time so maybe he'll stop being such a little asshowle. So I go and ask that fairy fuack where he wanted to go for his bday and out of every generic place you could possibly think of, the little fuack says "Madagascar". Like who in the fuack comes up with that?? Well rather than explain to his poorly developed brain on why that's the dumbest shiite he could've said, I tell him "fuack it" and book some tickets to Hawaii. That prepubescent coock fuack wouldn't be able to tell the difference anyway. So we're flying over some ocean, idk, the Atlantic Ocean, American Ocean, who gives a fuack, just some ocean where they got sharks and shiite. Well while I'm reclining back in my card board seat with the leg space so tight I can feel my balls pressing up on the front tray table, I guess those two dimwitted "pilots" we're getting more wasted than a sorority girl at a frat party and crash the fuacking plane. As I'm waking up from what feels like the worst hangover of my life, other than the time I woke up after fuacking Timmy's mom (still can't remember her name) this kid pulls the ultimate middle finger. Some savage Neanderthal looking fuacks (thank you God to Christopher Columbus for taking care of that problem back home) come aboard the plane that looked worse than my studio apartment during my repeated freshman year of community college, and grab Timmy. Out of all the rational responses you would expect that potential blowwjob to have, you know surviving a plane crash killing almost everyone only to be met by some random canniabls. He gets carried away in their arms, only to look back at me, smiling, and then gives me a little wink. That ungrateful fuack left my asss stranded with nothing more than some sodas, snack bars, pieces of cloth and a random axe. Whoever got that pass TSA btw, kudos bro. It's been about a month and through the countless amounts of cannibals I've killed, still no sign of Timmy. Pretty sure he joined them just so he could eat some of my flesh one day and actually become a fuacking man. I swear once I find him, I'm gonna give him one good last spanking.........with that axe.