He managed to grab a carton of eggs. His fingers, now feeling like overstuffed sausages, squeezed too hard. Crunch. A gooey, yellow mess slid down his pajama pants. Arthur giggled—a deep, bubbly sound—before realizing he was now slipping on the very eggs he just broke. He performed a slow-motion interpretive dance, limbs flailing, before landing face-first in a pile of clean laundry.
Just then, his daughter walked into the kitchen. She looked at the flour-covered walls, the broken toaster, and her father, who was currently wearing a colander as a hat. "Dad? What are you doing?" Drunken Dad Simulator ingyenes letГ¶ltГ©s
Arthur looked up, eyes hovering in two different directions, and gave a shaky thumbs up. "Making... memories, kiddo. Pure... memories." He managed to grab a carton of eggs