whatever

sugar jayby doing his little petulant pout to get what he wants and what he wants is the most disgustingly sweet, carcinogenic candy ever crafted. he wants some kind of birthday cake flavoured fun dip that shouldn't even be in circulation. he's at the store like MJ MJ pleasee can I get this new jolly rancher flavour the one that kills you if you eat it I want that one. and he gets it. and all the stupid brown blazers he wants, and all the cool toy guns and lame figurines all on top of his little allowance. he gets so giddy to spend matt's money, never has to work a day in his life, smiling serenely slowly atrophing from his terminal diagnosis of spoiled princess disorder