Raising the next generation of shitlords I took my cousin's son who is 5 to Starbucks today. We were sitting, waiting for our drinks, when an obeast sauntered in. It was maybe 5'4" and pushing 300 lbs. He asked me with a perfectly straight, serious face, "Aunt Marquise, how does she walk with legs like that?" He wasn't loud but the hammy was definitely within hearing distance. It turned around and glared pools of venomous hatred, expecting me to discipline him or at least explain away its nastiness with a litany of condishuns. I simply said, "I have no idea." The tremor of its quivering jowls was priceless.