Pardon the bad pun but it appears that trying to make a snowman out of vanilla ice cream wasn't such a "hot" idea. At first I thought it would be a great way to bond with the kids after I'd gambled away their college money at the Cash Creek Indian Casino. Now it appears that I have let them down again...this shit melts faster than you'd think....we barely got the top hat on before its head fell off and splattered across the kitchen. There are goddamn ants and flies everywhere now! We're knee deep in sticky melted sludge. I'd suggest we try to eat it but that seems really unsanitary and dangerous since I've been spraying this crap with Raid to kill the ants. All I was trying to do was be a good Dad...a good Dad with a rotten compulsive gambling problem that destroys lives and tears asunder the dreams of a brighter future achieved through the means of a college education. Raven is going to kill me for this shit...I think we accidentally drowned the cat underneath this sea of vanilla mush. I can't seem to find her. We didn't even get to name the goddamn snowman before he just fell apart. Jimmy suggested we could posthumously name him "Melty". Johnny suggested "Sticky"....I suggested "The Kick-ass, Titty-suckin' Fuck God!"...but was met with a chilly response....hey...chilly...snowman...that's funny.
Uh-oh, I hear the downstairs neighbor screaming bloody murder. This crap must be leaking through his ceiling. Maybe "Melty" is the better of the three names, now that I think about it. I just put the Addams Family theme song on a loop on the CD player at full volume to drown out the neighbor's cursing and yelling. That should teach him a lesson...what kind of lesson I have no idea...but a lesson nonetheless. He's going to learn another lesson when I start shooting holes in the kitchen floor with my grandpa's old hunting rifle to drain this ice cream out of the apartment. Man oh man, this is all going to look really bad to the review board at the state hospital.
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