You may have noticed your mother’s Facebook statuses have been a little odd lately. She’s been posting stuff like this:
Gee, I dunno…
Upon seeing that status, you sent her a message asking her what it was about, to which she replied:
Oh nothing Steven. U still coming over tmrw 4 supper?
I know that because I was standing behind her when she received it on her phone. She always does annoying shit like look at her phone while I’m—well, I’ll get to that in a minute.
All of your mom’s vaguebook statuses are about me.
Let me explain what the whole “I dunno” status update was about. Your mother and I usually stick to vaginal sex. We rarely stray from this tried-and-true method, unless you count the times when she sucks my soft penis to get it hard enough to fuck her wrinkly flap-box.
A minute before your mom posted the vague status update, I told her that if she didn’t give me anal, I wouldn’t be taking her for shopping sprees at Talbots anymore. First she accused me of being cruel, then she cried for about five minutes while she tapped away at Facebook on her iPhone. A minute later I was balls-deep in her fudge factory. That’s when she got your message.
The fact that I’m banging your mother probably comes as a shock to you. After all, I’m your best friend. I’m the godfather of your little baby girl. I was the Best Man at your wedding. We’re really very close. You’re probably feeling betrayed.
I guess I owe you an apology, but I certainly don’t owe her one. Have you looked at your mom lately—I mean, objectively? She’s got a great body, but her face is pretty rugged, bro. I know you love her, but you have to realize that I don’t. I’ve only been fucking her because I knew it would be hilarious. This is where all the years of mom jokes were leading. This is my ultimate mom joke.
Steve, I fuck your mom several times a week and it’s really good. Until his death on your birthday last year (sorry for your loss), your father fucked her in the same boring missionary position he’s been using since the night he drunkenly creampied her at a key party—the night you were conceived. But me, I change it up. I’ve got moves.
To most women my sexual performance is just average, but to your mom I’m a porn star. And with the way she keeps up with those hot yoga classes, she loves how I bend her around and stab her various holes from all those angles.
Here’s another one of her status updates you didn’t know was about my meat missile:
I don’t know what the big deal is with soccer! It’s kickball people!
You know that your mom has never given two shits about sports. She cares about two things in life: The fluffiness of her chocolate soufflé and keeping the relentless cum factory known as my balls empty just so I’ll stick around a little longer. She normally wouldn’t have even noticed the World Cup was on, but I’ve been blasting the games to drown out her loud moaning during our speculum sessions.
I’ve struggled for at least 10 minutes trying to figure out the best way to tell you this, Steve, but I was also trying to figure out what my next Thought Catalog piece was going to be. So I thought I’d kill two birds with one stone.
This probably seems like some sort of big elaborate joke and if it lets you maintain your sanity, feel free to keep thinking so. But at some point you’re going to have to deal with the fact that your mother gobbles my cum down every day like it’s one of the 17 pills she pops to stop her high cholesterol from killing her.
Whenever you’re ready to face the truth, listen closely when your mother sits down in church. You should hear a little tap on the church pew, like the sound of someone putting a glass of water down on a coffee table too fast. That’s the glass buttplug I bought her.
I’ll be by your house on Wednesday night around 7:30 to pick you up for bowling league.