You raised a guy who looks like he's approaching middle-age and not only works at the local Wendy's, but spends a ridiculous amount of time either waxing poetic about the "food" he sells or playing with it.
Maybe you made good French Toast, lady, but you probably should have let the feral cats living behind the dumpster outside the 7-11 manage the education of your son. He's a pretty sad case, overall. And if you don't believe me, I guess you weren't around when he was convinced that the fat customer- no, the fat customer with a beard- no, that PARTICULAR fat customer with a beard- was Santa Claus. Or that other time he was gazing at stretchy cheese like a baby fascinated with car keys. Maybe next time get that lead paint scraped from the living room wall BEFORE you get pregnant. Just a bit of free advice, no need to thank me.
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