Flushin' A Toilet Fer Jesus

Once our entire clan had all come down with severe chest colds, I knew it was time for a family trip to The Funtime Palace, a new pizza parlor/arcade that had recently opened up in the Monroeville Mall. As Raven and I loaded the kids into the family hearse we instructed them to touch as many things as possible in the arcade, preferably after coughing their revolting germs onto the flesh of their hands. We knew our little, walking germ incubators would do us proud.

The family was in high spirits thanks to several bottles of cough medicine that tasted not unlike a cross between rotting cherries, pruno and gasoline, and as we drove merrily along we all mumbled and rambled on incoherently in our best high-as-fuck Elvis Presley voices. As we pulled into the parking lot the children cheered and and licked the palms of their hands in glee. "Fly like the wind my little phlegm bags!" Raven screamed as the happy children bolted for the entrance.

Once inside, little Otto requested several quarters for the "Fag Basher" game, which required the players to attempt to wallop small plastic homosexual stereotypes over the head with a rubber mallet. Little Lucy went the extra mile and threw up inside of the House of Balls play tent. Within thirty minutes the entire arcade was swimming knee deep in our horrible germs. By the time the management got wind of our nutty antics and had us physically escorted off of the premises, we had passed our sickness around like a box of condoms at a wild sex orgy.

As luck would have it, after being escorted back to our hearse in the parking lot, we were spotted by none other than pop music dynamo, Terry Styles, producer of the top ten hits, "Kissin' Cousins" by Cornhole Calhoun and "Fuck My Booty" performed by former Icelandic ice skating champion, Hans Delbrook and his backup group The Fucksticks. Terry could spot talent a mile away, and he immediately knew our little family had something special. He pitched a record deal in the spot, weaving a tapestry of delights with promises of Partridge Family-style fame and fortune. Moments later we all stabbed him to death with our homemade prison shanks and burned rubber out of the parking lot.