Amoeba’s Lorica: Out of the Mouths of Babies

Does anybody know of a place that does trick-or-treating for adults? I’m looking for a place that hands out tacos and margaritas. – Facebook post

Boy, age 10: “Dad?”

His father: “Yes, son?”

Son: “What’s an adult?”

Father: “Someone that you soon will be.”

Son: “Yeah, but what does that mean?”

Father: “Well, for one thing, it means that you’re old enough to make babies and bring them into the world.”

Son: “And to watch other people while they’re trying to make them?”

Father (aghast): How did you find out about that?

Son: “Ah, c’mon, Dad, get real. As if this stuff wasn’t all over the Internet. Besides, the lead story on network news this morning was about this football player masturbating in front of his trainer – a girl. How do you work it so you don’t find out about it? Near as I can make out, adult means being able to pull off all kinds of rude kid tricks without being sent to your room.”

Father: “Um …”

Son:Alone. You got anything else for me to look forward to?”

Father: “Well, if you’re going to make babies, you have to pay for them. Which means going to work. Getting a job. You know, scientist, carpenter, plumber, police officer …”

Son: “Soldier?”

Father: “Yes, that’s a job.”

Son: “How can that be for adults?”

Father: “Trust me, you don’t want to be doing it.”

Son: “Yeah, but it doesn’t add up! Soldiers don’t make people, they kill people. So shouldn’t that job be for subtractults?”

Father: “Son …”

Son:Amirite?”

Father: “Do I know you?”

Son: “Sorry, Dad, you don’t get off that easy. At the rate you’re going, you’re going to have me as a kid forever!”

Father: “Yeah, good luck with that. Especially if you ever want to vote!”

Son: “Vote?”

Father: “Until you’re an adult, you won’t be able to vote for the people who make the rules. Adults get to choose the people who decide what the laws and rules are going to be, how they’re going to be enforced, and by whom.”

Son: “You mean, they get to choose, like, the President?”

Father: “Yes, like the President.”

Son: “The one everybody’s yelling about?”

Father: “Yes, um …”

Son: “You voted for him?!?”

Father: “Well, not all of us …”

Son: “Just enough of you. So let me get this straight. All the rules that I gotta follow, and all the people that make the rules that I gotta follow … they’re all adulterated?!?”

Father: “Son?”

Son:What?”

Father: “Go to your room.”

Son: “Yes, dad …”

This entry was posted in Amoeba's Lorica, humor, satire, We the People and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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