Karen, I don’t want to hear another word about “seeing a family lawyer” or “working this out like adults.” It’s not gonna happen. We’re deciding who gets custody of Trevor with this game of beer pong.
It’s how we settled disputes at my frat house and it always works. When both me and one of my frat brothers wanted to date you in college, we duked it out on the beer pong table we had painted to look like a normal table, and I won.
Did I never tell you that, Karen? That our whole relationship is based on a beer pong game?
Don’t look so sad, at least not until I sink a cup.
BAM! NAILED IT! Okay, now you can look sad.
You can keep harking on how I’m unfit to have custody of Trevor until the cows come home. It doesn’t matter, Karen. My non-prescription pill addiction, my lack of a job and money, and the fact that Trevor and I have an obvious mutual hatred for each other isn’t going to stop me from draining cup after cup and taking home that sweet sweet custardy. I mean custody. But damn, now I want custard.
NAILED ANOTHER! Send those pong balls back to me, Karen.
And you gotta drink those cups. Don’t waste good beer that I bought before you removed me from our joint checking account. Don’t throw away those cups either. I gotta re-sell them after the game. Daddy needs his custard money.
THREE IN A ROW, BABY!
Don’t worry. I’ll let you see Trevor on his birthday and at Christmas and really at any other time you just want to look outside at the tent on your yard where I plan on living with him. I won the tent in a game of flip cup with a cocky REI employee.
FOUR? I AM A PONG GOD! BRING ‘EM BACK, KAREN!
Who are you calling, Karen? The police? Good! Bring ‘em here, because I am literally MURDERING you at beer pong!
FIVE IN A ROW! This has got to be a record of the most consecutive cups hit in a beer pong game with a child’s life on the line. It just has to be. Only one more cup before I win since you made us play this six cup bullshit game. REGULATION IS TEN CUPS, KAREN!
Oh, hey there, Trevor. Mommy and daddy are just settling who you get to spend your life with. Yeah? Well I hate you too.
Here we go…
NAILED IT! LIKE BRANDY AND MONICA SAID: THE BOY IS MINE!
C’mon, Trevor. Help me set up your mother’s tent on her yard. After, we’ll get daddy some custard.
Wait, what’s with those sirens? Oh my god, Karen! You actually called the police? That’s so not cool. Karen, you’re the opposite of custard, and that’s the worst insult I know.
Trevor, help daddy re-rack these cups. Time to challenge some cops to a game of a beer pong to decide whether or not I get arrested.
And you better fucking believe we’re playing 10 cups this time.