She truly is a mean, mean queen. Her fat ass, taut in a tight ass-hugging skirt, trotted out the front door of her palace and sneered at me. A dismissive wave. A wave to a gay goy boy that said, "I got the hot business suited mechanic."
It was in the morning, when I'm at my most vulnerable. It's when I let the dogs out as I find the paper and try to read something while they take their sweet time finding a place to crap. Mean Queen saw me bleary eyed, knew that it was now the time to smile and wave with her freshly fucked fanny wiggling in a wool skirt.
She is so mean. She still has the mechanic somewhere hidden in her palace. Probably in one of her warren of tunnels. It serves him right for fucking her. He deserves to be tied to the wall and submit to her demands of sex on command. He will be no use to me or anyone else after she is through. That's how mean, the Mean Queen is and depraved.
The Antler Dance is wasted on her. She has no use for the Antler Dance, just her need to be fucked fresh each day for the eggs she lays. She is there now, laying eggs in the dead of night while my neighbors have no knowledge that under their very homes, mass amounts of eggs are being stored.
She knows I know. She knows that I have uncovered her plot to turn the hood into a wasteland. She wants to take the butt flossers from us and the cock and ball warmers for winter. She wants skull caps and bellies. She wants Zionist Jihad Party Boys to do the clap-clap songs without a gay goy boy staring at them.
But I won't give up. I won't leave my post until everyone knows of her wicked, mean plan. I will take down Mean Queen. I will defy her and topple her skirted fat ass full of semen.
Stories from living in Los Angeles
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