Soooo.....

I was listening to the radio this morning whilst getting ready for work, which is my norm, and the morning D.J.s fielded a phone call from a listener who requested a song. The listener - a woman - asked them to play "Fly to the Angels" by Slaughter.

But that's not the point of this post. The point is, the woman is nuts. The 'son' is probably better off having been aborted.

The woman went on to say that today is the day she, her son and her daughter all celebrate what would have been the birth of 'Jason'. (I think that was the name she used.)
Every year for the last eight years, they have a little party, go to Chuck-E-Cheese's, bake a cake, the works.

But wait! There's more!

Now of course, I don't know the circumstances. She may have sat down to take a piss and out 'Jason' came. Which I'm guessing is the most likely scenario, because 'Jason' resides in a pickle jar in the same room as one of her sons.
That's right, Junior gets to go to bed every night and enjoy the company of 'Jason'. On a shelf. In a pickle jar. The daughter at least gets her own room, but good gawd. It's bad enough the woman is nuts, but what the fuck is her son turn out to be like?

Makes me wonder.



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