If you stick a hotdog into a donut and 9 months later a Twinkie knocks on your door asking for it’s Dad… like is that cheating? Do I owe Hostess or Oscar Mayer child support? Can my partner and I still have guilt free sex in front of Jesus?
Well, you’ve certainly got yourself into a pickle. All I can say is, wave goodbye to your life as you know it. From now on you’ll be stared at everywhere you go as you walk hand in hand with this over-sugared monstrosity. The good news is that, as it’s father, you can tell it anything and it’ll just believe you like the idiot it is. Call salt pepper and tables cabbages a la the movie Dogtooth, or go the whole hog and make up some Creationist story and tell it there’s an afterlife.
You could, in theory, train it to shoot a celebrity of your choice (Trump, cough) or perhaps even make more and create an army of odious confectionary. Just think, you could pick fights with city hoodlams and yell “Twinkies, attack!” just at the opportune moment. Or you could take over the Whitehouse and demand all sorts of weird things in exchange for not blowing everyone up. Or maybe just invade a TV station and replace regular programming with shots of you looking clever (“And now, Advanced Anatomy with Justin K Day.” “Thank you Michael. This is an arm, everyone. An arm.” Applause.)
With regards to paying child support, yes, it’s fifty bucks (quid) a week. And as for sex with your partner, what are you, some kind of barnyard animal?
Dear Maddie, I worry that my son may be buying drugs. How can I talk to him about this?
You’re going to need a good stiff joint for this. Ha ha, I jest. Drugs are the Devil’s pant scrapings and those who even allow the word to pop up in a thought should be taken to a tiny island where a ten foot spider will have sex with them for the rest of eternity. Therefore if your son has so much as come home a bit pale you must get on the phone immediately and call the police. Don’t listen to his weepings about “why are you doing this again” or “I thought we dealt with this in therapy after you wasted police time last year,” he’s just deflecting.
Of course, because the world hasn’t yet caught up with your razor sharp morals, you’ll have to create the island and, if necessary, the spider – let’s not shy away from duty just because it’s our only child. I suggest finding a nice abandoned shed and throwing some sand down, maybe hiring a clown to dress up as the spider. Better yet make one yourself out of rope, cardboard and sticky back plastic, and don’t let him out till he’s learned his lesson.
If you have any weird questions for Maddie you can email them to her at firstname.lastname@example.org with the subject line Ask Maddie. Please include your website.
For more Madeleine check out madeleineswann.com
Her NBAS book Rainbows Suck available on Amazon