I generally don’t care for children. The thought of babies alone has acted as the best form of birth control. But OH suhweet jeezus, I would kickstart the ovaries into action and run harlot through the streets, or speed-dial Angelina if heaven (or the international adoption agency) would bestow a righteous child such as this unto my loins:
This kid is Pure Truth enclosed in a pink Prince jumpsuit. Forget Guitar Hero, he’s on the real shit. And when he gets into it and does that little headbang, I start to tremble with BABEH FEVER. I don’t care what song he really was playing, I don’t care that he’s thrashing a lute, this cherub is pure rawk ‘n’ roll. I want one.