Every once in a while that yuck-yuck little man we once knew as Bad Blair pops up in conversation, and we’ve gotten to the point finally where his whole story is a sad, sick joke we have no choice but to laugh at. Sounds good! Your daddy’s money, your mommy’s well-being and peace of mind… Ok, so you took all that. But you didn’t take your cat? The one you loved so much? Oh, right. You married a girl the day after you met her, which was three weeks after you chatted her up online, but only AFTER exchanging pics of your parts, and all of this shortly after you maimed our backyard and pissed on my husband’s car. Got it. You’re a winner. Your poor, sweet cat, though. And our “friends” who still chat with him? Are you OK? No, like… you don’t get it yet? You’re on our doo-doo list. We know you’re playing both sides. We know you couldn’t be that smart.
Listen, the devil has legs, but only one arm because he lost the other to a happy dance with some black tar he bought with the money his daddy gave him for food.
Well, winner, winner,
How has your pill garden grown?