Last spring, an ungodly corporate merger took place as McDonald's partnered with American Idol for happy meals.It seemed every time we got Laney a Happy Meal (which was, to be fair, far more than we should have) she got the same toy: Punky Pete. Push down his mohawk and he expels some sort of vomitous punk-inspired noise. It remains the single most obnoxious toy to ever enter our house, and, THAT is saying something. I spirited away Punky Pete after Punky Pete; always surreptitiously (Laney loved her some Punky Pete). I put Punky Pete in the recycling bi, in the composter, in the garbage. One I gave to my friend, Claire, who put it on her desk and enabled it when annoyed by a customer.
We've lived blissfully free of Punky Pete for some months now. Until Sunday...
Laney and I were hanging out in the yard; me reading my book, Laney doing what Laney does. When suddenly she approached me with:
The fucking thing was liberated somehow (I suspect of his own volition) from our composter. This video does not display the true depths of the obnoxiousness of Punky Pete. Consider yourselves lucky
