We are at Club Maroon’d.
Burt and Burt Jr. are talking.
It is a bittersweet moment, as, quite frankly, Burt has no idea how in the hell he got Lana knocked up.
Then it dawns on him, that b###h Tawnya must not have brushed her teeth befire she went back to Lana.
Oh well, another feckin mystery done in by watching too much internet porn.
And no, I am not going to link you to a page showing that kind of things, damn, go ask Maroon, he’s the sunovab###h with the cable modem.
(and kids, he’s a pervert, its ture, its true!)
So, um, anyways, Burt and Burt Jr. are talking. . . .
Burt: So. . um. . son. .. um. . . hi.
Burt Jr.: Hello Burt
Burt: Please son. . call me… Dad.
Burt Jr.: Oh please, you aren’t like a father to me. I was raised in the future by a robotic dog.
Burt: HOLY FECKIN SHIT!!!!
Burt Jr: Is there a problem?
Burt: Ro. . .rob. . robotic dogs?
Burt Jr.: It is normal. . . father.
Burt burst’s out in tears at hearing his son call him “Father”. Oh God, what a wondrous day.
Burt: Oh son. . . how I’ve waited to hear someone say that. I love you!
Burt Jr: Oh get over it.
Burt: Son. .. lets go play catch. .
Burt Jr.: No. You suck, and I want to go home.
Burt: WHA? Why you ungrateful little sun of a whore! I’ll KILL YOUI!!!!
No. . . No I wont son. . I love you. . I really do. . But I want a blood test, I don’t think you are my son.
Burt Jr.: ARF! Er, I mean, ok, Burt.
And now we will leave the Father and son?? Combination for a later time.
We’ll be back before too long, I promise.
its just that I’m lazy and tired, and want to stop writing.
So fade to some color, some dark color. . .yeah.. that one. . .