Yea, right.
Well he started to one night, this I know, but the dude was too loaded to dial. Seriously, he had apparently drowned his miserable self a bath of Jack Daniels and powdered himself afterwards with a couple of grams of shitty, speed-cut blow.
"Madame Hailey, I'm trying..." he blabbered along with other bullshit. Then our chat session went dead, I moved on to some more worthy worms.
The next day I received a message with Mr.Crackhead Minvan not only begging my forgiveness, but telling me this huge sob story about his wife walking in. That he was a family man gone awry.
Insert violin music.
I don't like those who grovel. I also don't like liars. And if anyone is going to be that intoxicated it is because I force it upon them!
"How can I make it up to you?" he pestered me all day long. Bor-ING!
Well I won't bore you with what happened in the interim, but he did make it up to me. Just a little bit.
He called me, number one. And let me tell you he got humilated beyond belief. This time, he wasn't getting hammered on his own. No, we had a forced intox session from hell and let's just say his wife came home to find him not only in pool of his own vomit, but with her panties in his mouth and a dildo in his ass. As she screamed at him, he told her that he was "Madame Hailey's little Ass Fag."
Word on the street was that his wife was so turned on to see her husband finally fess up to his pathetic ways that she right then and there hiked up her skirt and pissed all over his sad face and locked him away for the rest of the weekend.
How do I know this, because Mr. Crackhead Minivan IS my ASS FAG. He has not fully reedemed himself for being a liar, but he did manage to find his way to my gift list that's listed here on my blog and being so indecisive, he sent me a Amazon Gift card.
It's a start.
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