GET SHAR JACKSON ON THE PHONE

I mean it, Mama. Don't go all pussy on me. I'm settling this Shar thing once and for all.

You may not want to talk with her because you think she's going to kick your ass (and guess what? She is going to slap you around like a cheap puta ... just as soon as you're done baking me in your oven). She knows better than to hit you while I'm here. I'd beat her down like a wad of rising bread dough.

Shar's out there making all kinds of noise about how Dad is irresponsible, how he's already got two fine kids and doesn't need a third, how he's nothing but a big whore. Didn't you hear her on the news, saying you and Dad were "meant for each other" because you're both cheaters and drinkers and smokers?

Yeah, well, don't try arguing against the truth, Queen B. Makes you look bad. Kinda like when you kept saying you were a virgin, even though Justin, the homo, admitted that you two had done the nasty. I mean, no big for me, though it would have been cool to be made of Justin's sperm. He's much hotter than Dad.

Admit it, Mom. The whole world knows. Even Helen Keller would know.

Keller. K-E-L-L-E-R. Deaf, dumb, blind. No, she didn't play the pinball. Christ, Mom, am I gonna have to teach you everything?