I have a roadmaster. Buick...Roadmaster. Master o da road

I got the Buick tagged licensed and rebbed. It is nice. It hold like 25 gallons of gas. I put 55 dollars in it this morning. It already had like 8 gallons of gas in it. Insane. I am the Road Master. The car name is a little embarrassing. The car is huge I could fit eight people in this thing. Who needs a van. Get a roadmaster. King of the road. That funny. My wifes dad's girlfriend called us drunk the other day and called Olga a mooch and a B----. So much for motherly love. Olga's dad doesn't do anything for us, so I don't know how we are mooches. He is a dad. Dad's do crap for their kids til they die. It comes with the stinkin job. I have no doubt that someday I will be in a nursing home drooling on a napkin, saying where's muh muummma? I don't want my kids taking care of me like an invalid. A pine box. A white room. a TV. and my meds. Tom Waits. That's all I need. Maybe not Tom Waits. I might go crazy singing the Cemetary Polka.