You. The one with the beard and the bills. And you, the one with the lady-beard and also the bills. Can I talk to you over here?
By the bar. We’re grown-ups, so let’s talk by the bar.
Great. This is comfy and cozy. You want a drink? I’m buying.
No, you can’t have a Singapore Sling.
A Bahama Mama? Is that even a thing? No. You cannot have that. Would you like clear ethanol with some ice cubes or brown ethanol with some ice cubes?
TIRO DE TEQUILA SONIDO
Ahh. Now you listen to me, you swaddled little puke, and listen fucking good because I’m only going to say this once: GROWN-UPS DON’T FUCKING COLOR. You wanna paint? Paint a house, paint a picture, paint a naked person. Paint until the fumes make you dizzy and sterile. But you can’t color. This is the kind of pantswettingly childish nonsense that brought down the Roman Empire. Also, over-expanding and stocking the Legions with barbarians, but mostly the coloring.
How about Colorforms? Do you wanna do some Colorforms, too, after you’re done coloring in your coloring book? Ooh, how about a Sit-N-Spin?
Or maybe I put you up on the table, wipe your ass, and change your poopy diapies. Is that what you want? Because if you color, then TotD is coming to your house and changing your poopy diapies against your will.
Okay, finish your drink. We’re done here.
P.S. I was going to link to whatever entrepreneurial soul is selling this bullshit, but then I scrolled down the page and saw this…
…and I’m not linking to shit.