PART 1 ----"The kids at school say that my Daddy must have sneezed when he came!", snuffed the Boy with a stomach for a face to his Mother.
"What did I tell you about using that type of language?! Now get your nose off the table young man!", Mother snapped slamming the pasta strainer on the side of the stove.
"That's what I'm saying Mom! If I were a normal kid, I would have my elbows on the table! But no, look at me everyone! I have to roll up my sleeve to check for boogers!"
"Speaking of which, why don't you reach over here and tell me how my sauce smells."
"I don't want to! Plus I'm not hungry anyway!"
"Oh who are you kidding?! I can hear your head growling from here!" She sips the spatula of sauce. "Hmmm, needs more Gatorade."
"And then at recess, Matthew Guntherclit gave me a Wet Willy and I had to go the bathroom to stop the bleeding!"
"Poor Matthew Guntherclit. I take it you never told him that you hear with your butthole? What a shame...for him."
"But what about me Ma?! Every time the class bell rings, I poop a little!"
"Look! You are as God made you. And radiation. If we had known that our house was built on an ancient Indian nuclear power plant, then we would have never moved here! But here he are, twelve years later, one loving family, with a son that can wink his nipples! Now I think that's pretty special."
"Oh, you just don't understand! And I hate your sauce!"
Then the Boy with a stomach for a face ran out into the backyard, tears streaming from his toenails.---
