If You Kids Don’t Shut Up, I’m Spinning 180º, Putting the Car in Reverse, and Continuing to Drive to Disneyland

Grintilla! Brumptolius! Sweetback Jr.! If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times — wear cooler clothes and shut your sass-belchin’ scream tubes!

By the heavens, I know I should have never planned this exotic vacation to Disneyland. The voluptuous thrills of Mackenzie Mouse are too good for you chittering numpties. Now I know why the hotel lady cried when I said “I will be accompanied by three humans I made,” instead of saying “That’s great.”

But we’re not going back home. Not by a gotdamn long shot. I want you to see her, the sad hotel woman. I will force you to unsheath your peepers at the cry-clerk, so that you may know the pain you cause others. Then it’s off to the Land of Walter the Rat King.

Sweetback, I will drag you and your malformed kneecaps through the line to Illinois Jimbo and the Temple of Cubes just so parks officials can tell you you’re too small and terrible to come aboard. Grintilla, I will hoist you on top of my weary shoulders at the front row for the heart-stopping dazzlement known as Phantasmic! just so I can take you away right as it starts, and deposit you in the Churro chamber so you can choke on the sugary dust of dead soldiers.

And Brumptolius — the chosen one, the fallen one, the one who was supposed to inherit my sword — I have saved the most precious anarchy for you. Tom Sawyer’s Infamous Hunting Grounds will claim your skin, and wrap it lovingly around one of their animatronics. Perhaps the boo-bot in the frightmare chambers of Ghost’s Delight? The impotent hellgoat of Mating Horn Peak? Or Winnie Bear Scatman, the Honeypot Emperor himself? Who can say, or even give a shit? Your epidermis will soon be a conglomerate’s problem, and I’ll be free to send the rest of you down a chute into the ocean.

I’m driving all three of you blubbering chia plants to oblivion. And if I hear but one more squeak or pitter-patter, I won’t just drive there. I’ll punch the e-brake, veer hard to the right, and turn this car 180º so that I’m facing the oncoming freeway traffic. Then I’ll shift into reverse and floor it, so that we are continuing to drive in the correct direction to Disneyland, but facing backw—

OH I’M SORRY BRUMPTOLIUS, WAS MY EXQUISITE DESCRIPTION OF MY DRIVING ABILITIES TOO LABORED FOR YOU? DID IT FORCE YOU, MY INCESSANT MEWLING, TO REGISTER YOUR DISPLEASURE WITH A HAUGHTY SIGH?

NOW THIS IS HAPPENING

AHHH ARE WE ALL SCREAMING NOW?! GOOD, I’M SCREAMING TOO! AHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHH, HEAR DADDY SCREAM!

With this fucking Nissan Leaf, I swear to Christ, I will uncork the decanter of chaos and douse your cheap, bodega knock-off Angry Birds shirts in it!

Stop fumbling about with your simple beltclasp Sweetback, your obnoxious high chair won’t save you now! This world is designed to keep an inferior mind and body like yours shrouded in the dark and there’s no use trying until your bones have stretched. What a feeble dipweed you are!

Grintilla! I don’t hear you keeping me up-to-date every four seconds about Brumptolius’ latest imaginary infraction, you melodramatic ditch-digger! He’s already climbed out the sunroof and onto the hood of my bizarro chariot! Might something else be occupying your attention, HMMM?? HMMM??? Such as the fact that we’re climbing up to 90 MPH in reverse on the Interstate 5?!

And Brumpty, don’t think I’ve forgotten about you. I suppose you’ll want to vlog to all your gamer boys about this on your electric microphone boyzone. Well too bad! Father’s showing you what real Grand Theft Auto looks like, and it’s quite the humdinger, WOULDN’T YOU CONCUR?!?

OH children it’s so nice, so NICE NOW

CHIL

DREN