Saturday, October 1, 2016

"God, what a relief. I'd hate to think there was something wrong with me that was my own fault."


"Mom?"

"Yes, son?"

"Was my rocket scientist rapist father by any chance a pedophile?"

"No, son: not that I know of. Why do you ask?"

"Well..."

"You can tell me, son, it's all right..."

"It's just that I have fantasies of having sex with young girls. I see them everywhere, in their little girl clothes, and I find myself consumed with lust and longing for their tender soft flesh."

"Oh my..."

"I was hoping I could blame that on Dad."

"I don't think your father is to blame for that one, son."

"Mom?"

"Yes, son?"

"I steal little girls' panties from the laundromat."

"Son, you know not to act on these fantasies, right?"

"Sure, sure. It's not like I think about it all the time. Just sometimes, that's all. And if the urge gets too bad I just watch Natalie Portman in "The Professional" and, um... take care of things."

"Okay... You know, now that I think about it, your Uncle Charlie liked the young girls. He was always offering private pony rides at kids' parties. He never missed any kid's party."

"So it IS genetic! I'm not a creep, my genes are!"

"Maybe, son: maybe."

"God, what a relief. I'd hate to think there was something wrong with me that was my own fault."

"Sure, son. But son...?"

"Yes, Mom?"

"I'd really like it now if you didn't spend so much time babysitting your nieces..."


Laslo would know where to go from here.


I am The Replacement Laslo.



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