My children are trying to get me arrested.
I don’t know why. I’ve done what I can for those kids. I’ve fed them: pizza. I’ve clothed them, though there are an embarrassing number of photos of my children in pull-ups and T-shirts. I’ve
rolled my eyes laughed at their endless dadaistic knock-knock jokes: “Knock. Knock.” “Who’s There?” “Taco.” “Taco who?” “Taco walking on your head!!!”
And still, they encourage me towards my worst behavior. They beg me to break the law. Especially in the car. Those girls were made for speed. Think I’m exaggerating?
Driving in Cars With
If I get pulled over, I swear to God, I’m gonna rat them out. Especially that blond one in the back.
“Officer, I’m so sorry. The diva made me do it.”