Ms Mother’s Day

For some, Mother’s Day is about celebrating the lady who let you freeload in her womb for 9 months. For others, it’s a day to showcase what a shithot daughter you are in an unadulterated display of self-absorpery.

Sara awakens in both a literal and figurative den of regret. The ill-effects of over-refreshment and party-drugs have her looking like Gollum after a 12 orc’s ran a train on his beloved ring.

Her one-off lover emits a powerful stench of Lynx mixed with goatee – combining to create this seasons latest unflushed eau de toilet that she will never forget.

Halfway home she has to lean out the window and decorate the side of her car with Bile-cardi Breezer. Feeling crook, she has no time for her half time vegetarianism and pulls into a servo to find salvation in a greasy cheese sausage – the breakfast of yesterday’s champions.

It’s here she starts hammering out an Instagram caption to honour her Instagram-less mother:

“Happy Mothers Day to the best mummy in the world! You are my best friend, my world and I appreciate everything you have done for me. You deserve the best xox0x #bff #bestmum #humbledaughter”.

Clearly “the best” refers to going halves in a $20 Dusk Candle and buying the third cheapest bouquet of flowers from the roadside van at the last minute.

Sara is running late, and most of the flowers have been snapped up. Alas, she is forced to choose from the unloved leftovers; the year 9 c’s soccer team of the floral world, that will soon find themselves in the same place, the bin.

Upon arrival, Sara presents her mother with her gifts and asks her mum to also pose with a bottle of Moet that her brother bought. She uploads the photo “#luckymum #gooddaughter #gifts”. She is inundated with kudos for her cunterosity.

Her likes-fiesta is interrupted by her father announcing that brunch is ready. While mum attempts a little toast, Sara is zooming around the table like a hashtagging blowfly trying to get the perfect angle for her brunch photo.

She barely listens to her mother’s pleasantries as she hammers out another post:

“Made mum brunch! Oh, and a couple of champagnes? Why not, you deserve it mum 😉 This daughter cleans up alright ay haha lol xoxox #igotitfrommymamma #happymothersday #luckymum”.

Sara downs a glass of bubbly and begins feeling crustier than a teenage boy’s bed sheets. Turns out the “French stuff” doesn’t mix well with a belly full of cheese sausage, goon and outer suburban deadshit love jelly.

Holding back She can only muster basic communications while glaring hypnotically at her iPhone, watching the likes roll in – the millennial way.

After waging an unwinnable battle against half a croissant, she lazes on the couch and basks in the baking sun of false-praises. Daughter of the year.

Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle half a Dusk candle, ay?