All fun and games until your parents ignore the cries for help. You then live in the canyon for decades. Eating bugs, cacti and scraps. The feral thoughts quick consume you. So you forget your name, your face and even how to speak. Hair protrudes from every cell. Your stench worsens by the hour, but you don’t notice. One day a new family arrives to the canyon. A child, he reminds you of what being human was. The word “billy” echos in your mind. “Is this my name? Did I just talk?” It all rushes back. All of it, up to that fateful day you decided to be “funny.” The child then pulls this contraption from his bag. He places it on the edge. In a leap of desperation you try to stop him. Stop what happened to you. Stop what will happen to him. The father sees you a cries out, “braaahhhhhhhhgggagahh!” A local park ranger sees you. He pulls his gun. Pow! Pow! Pow!............ you’ve been hit. The ranger comes to your side. It’s your father. “Im sorry” you plea.
“Hi sorry, I’m dad.”
@MetalHeadTony, you’ve got like what 20 children? That is some advance level dad joke. Bravo
@mtndewman9791, no idea how many kids I have. If my sperm can fertilize whatever is living in the south western PA sewage system then I have an entire army of drain babies.
Parents who care sold separately
Can someone verify this is real?