King Chuck was out fishing for crawdads with his son, Willy, who said,
“Pa, did mama ever peg you?”
“She done tried, son, once, but I put a stop to it. I got a feeling she pegged that Dody fella. Still don’t explain how she got knocked up by him though.”
“Was I Dody’s son, pa?”
“Hell no! We got rid of that in the Thames. Then we got some MI5s to hop on motorcycles to pop a tire of the car when it was going through that there tunnel so’s everyone would think that cuz it was nice and narrow, that was what done kilt her. She had a mud baby in her.”
“Dem’s all conspiracy theories, right, pa? So’s they don’t count. But izzat why’n you don’t like Harry?”
“Ah, that boy … he’s gettin’ his revenge now. Ginger revenge. That’s why he done married an actress from ‘Merica – Calyforny, of all star-studded shitholes – only place on earth to vie us for attention – we used to be the ONLY celebrities … time’s a-changin’, boy, time’s a-changin’, once again. Now that yer granny is floggin’ darkies in Heaven, ole Harry got hisself a wife who ain’t got, let’s say, pink cheeks. Know what I mean, boy?”
“Yah, pa. Pa? Is you gonna make Harry’s wife ride in a car with paparazzi on motorcycles goin’ through a tunnel in Paris?”
“Can’t rightly say, son. Pert near anything can happen, now’s that I’m king and all. Who can predict the future? But like last time with yo mama, it won’t be on English soil. Keep it foreign, that way we kin blame the frogs and deflect blame from our family – pert near the most powerful family on this here God’s green earth. Not even the mafia can touch us, son.”
“Gorsh, pa … not even the mafia.”
