My bedtime story... and yes this is much better reading

Perk up yer collective ears, my friends, as I tell the tale of "When Kim Has a Heart." Settle down and dig in.
As per usual today, the child next door is hootin and hollerin out of the windows facing us. The broken storm from their prior insistence in monkeying around ("their" referencing the spawn and his cuzzins) is now plywood, with a 'screaming square' cut out from it. The last police contact I had was with a fine (very fine!) officer investigating an abandoned and most likely stolen van left right behind our house. This Hottie McHot officer, upon inquiry regarding said ill-mannered twat croissants, advised yours truly that all I need do is call on him and he would (and I quote) "bang on their door until they answered." Wish I got his name and badge number.

I now, in my sensitive drunken state, am feeling some feels that compel me to want to ask the youngster whether or not his guardians are indeed at home, and to generally converse with lil' dude. Why?
So I can call CPS and take care of this shit once and for all! Because truly, if those kids are being neglected, I do actually feel for them.

Thus ends the tale of the Kim whose heart grew by .02 percent this evening.

Hottie McHot huh? So you found him quite an arresting officer?

Quote
aliceblue
Hottie McHot huh? So you found him quite an arresting officer?

911 phone hook up?

_______________________________________________
“There are three things all wise men fear: the sea in storm, a night with no moon, and the anger of a gentle man.”