Behind his back, she talks. She tells the fellas everything she thought she heard him say. Of course, she isn't certain. That doesn't stop her though. She just keeps jacking her jaws. I think she gets off on it. She doesn't need a penis at all, just words. Her words. She talks about everything she knows (which, consequently, is a whole hell of a lot). If she didn't experience it, her "friend" did. Her friend knows a hell of a lot too, she told me. I'm so sick of listening to what all she's done and her exaggerated stories. So what you go to Cancun once a year with your "friend" (never GIRL"friend" mind you). As if the close quartered mullet isn't enough. Go comb it. Run your fingers through it. Doesn't that long in the back mane feel silky smooth? It's hard to drive me to disrespect, but you've succeeded. With you, always wanting to know the business that isn't yours. Me, resigning myself to being mute in your presence. What situation will you create today? What did you hear me say or see me do? Go ahead and tell, but pose it in a way that you're not telling at all. Just talk about it. Let it have a life of it's own once you've put it on the table. Hell, you're only 53 going on high school drama queen.
