We will help you get your mom off drugs!

‘Twas the day before Christmas, and all through the house, beer in abundance, and liquor about.

The children pissed off, possibly drugged as well, for there were shitty presents under the tree…what the hell?

“The fuck is this shit?”, the one child did utter, “A holiday sweater? We must murder our mother.”

“Later”, the other decreed, “I talked to Mason Day, talkin’ about some kind of pineapple weed. I know you don’t smoke ,Beau Blanchard my chap, but I’m George Almonte, if I’m not high I swear to god I’ll snap.”

“Good shit”, Beau replied, “Let’s hit it after I grab some supplies.”

So Beau loaded a bag, with his father’s liq and beer, unworried about his anger, for he will be drunk until the next year. They walked out the house, when they heard such a clatter, it was Abel Perez , getting madder and madder.

“FUCK YOU MOM, YOU IMMIGRANT BITCH, I HOPE YOU BURN, YOU INSUFFERABLE WITCH!!” Business as usual, he was always pissed.

So Beau cracked a joke, they laughed and moved on, George skipped merrily singing metal songs.

They walked and walked till they came to their stop, when to their horror they saw a number of cops.

Beau hid the bag, and went up to the officer, “What seems to be the problem?…lobster.”

“Well my young delinquent, we caught this other boy, a-smokin’ and drinkin’.”

To none of their surprise, it was Mason indeed, got impatient waiting and smoked a half ounce of weed.

The cars drove off, the boy’s Christmas was screwed, all except for Beau, who had his own brew.

“Fruck this shipt, what we gonner do noaww?”, said Beau shitfaced who was stumbling around.

“My friends do not wail”, George said, “We’ll break his ass out of jail.”

For some retarded reason the others agreed, they’ll get their friend and his big bag of weed.

They got some tools and a ride as well, they’d get their weed (and Mason) even if they go through hell.

Dropped off at the police station, they needed a plan to get out Mason.

“Wow, we got this far?”, Abel said, “I didn’t even think we’d get a ride in a car.”

So it was hopeless again, our three heroes(?) did think, when old St. Nicholas made a mischievous wink.

He worked his magic, more powerful than Jesus, and furthered this story in order to please us.

“Fear not my children! This magic comes with a full tank of gas!” And out of thin air comes the ghost of Hummer past.

“It’s Mason’s old hummer! From the car accident this month!”, Abel surprised, “Except with a jet engine in the back of the trunk.”

The two hopped in, with Beau falling inside. They prepared themselves for a bad ass holiday ride.

The engine roared with the spirit of St. Nick, damn this story is badass, a book would be sick.

It decimated the station except for two parts, the cell holding Mason and weed filled carts.

All four loaded up, the place they were robbin’, as they flew out the bitch, Mason yelled, “W3 b St3@dY M0bbIN!!”(we be steady mobbin for you whiter readers).

They went to the park, right by 7-11, they were so high it could’ve been heaven.

Munchies and weed mixed with liq and bud light, it was truly a most excellent night.

For all you out there who had a good laugh, you’re going to hell for liking this crap. And for those who think, I’m some twisted jerk, get your bum ass off facebook if you’re offended and hurt. But for everyone else, and even these groups as well, merry Christmas to all, and to all I’ll see you in hell!

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He jokes around a lot about a lot of things, but this is the only thing that really worries me.

I know he used to do heroin when he was a kid, but he quit. he didn’t go to any fancy rehab, or anything, he said he just straight up quit it, that’s what he always told my mother.

He is kind of sick. He has emphysema (won’t quit smoking), glaucoma (just got a cornea transplant and is starting to gain back his sight), and some problem with his kidneys.

I’m 16 and I see him once a week, because that’s all my mother allows me to spend with him, because of his record, and such.

I just don’t know what to do. Sometimes I feel like I’m the adult, and he’s the child.

He jokes around a lot about a lot of things, but this is the only thing that really worries me.

I know he used to do heroin when he was a kid, but he quit. he didn’t go to any fancy rehab, or anything, he said he just straight up quit it, that’s what he always told my mother.

He is kind of sick. He has emphysema (won’t quit smoking), glaucoma (just got a cornea transplant and is starting to gain back his sight), and some problem with his kidneys.

I’m 16 and I see him once a week, because that’s all my mother allows me to spend with him, because of his record, and such.

I just don’t know what to do. Sometimes I feel like I’m the adult, and he’s the child.