He didn’t like the casserole, and he didn’t like my cake. He said my biscuits were too hard not like his mother used to make. I didn’t make the coffee right, he didn’t like my stew. I didn’t fold his pants, the way his mother used to do.
I pondered for an answer, I was looking for a clue. Then I turned around and smacked the shit out of him like his mother used to do.(Just for Fun)
