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Fart Brain

He hated when his dad called him Fart Brain. There was no need to call him names just because he had spent the afternoon playing the new beta-version of Battlefield 2042. It wasn’t like he had homework. How was he supposed to know that his mom was on the kitchen floor? He hadn’t even been out there. Sure, the Tasmanian devil dog his mom always Frenched had been yapping but honestly, when didn’t it? It wasn’t like it was his fault. And then his dad had another mental fit when he asked what was for dinner. Classic old person move.


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