Wiglet
Amityville offers quite a cast of characters. Most have come and gone without me even noticing. While others leave an indelible stain on my soul.
Arthur the Attorney who moved out recently was a friend, as was Lady V down the hall. She’s still here but things are … complicated there.
And we know my zero-tolerance policy for drama.
In any event, there’s a gal who’s lived here throughout my five years. Bitch be cray with a capital CRAY.
Generally I know her by her wigs. She must have a pumpkin-sized noggin like mine because none of them fit her right. I have one wig that I bought with the intent of “wear it when running late for work.”
But my brain is way too big to be contained in that little petite mop. So, it’s in a box till some voodoo priest shrinks my head or something equally ridiculous.
In any event, Lisa doesn’t work. Her car doesn’t run. I’ve never seen her leave. But she fucks any male who walks onto the premises. Good-looking ones, too.
Till they realize she’s BONKERS. And run screaming.
Today Lisa reeled in some guy (kind of hot) and was asking him to take her for a ride. Which, obviously, her car doesn’t work. And she had a new wig to show off. Which, like all the others, was crooked and pulled way too far down her forehead.
I’d feel sad for her if I weren’t worried she’d cut me while I walk past her.
The man she was with was clearly trying to GET AWAY. He looked at me, almost for help.
What you boys don’t understand is I know y’all like a crazy bitch. The crazier, the better. Crazytown seems to have an altar and a justice of the peace, too. So, tie some cans to your car and prepare to live out your dreams … or Stephen King or Wes Craven’s dreams. Whichever.
So anyway, he’s looking at me like, hunh, picked up the wrong chick here.
And while he was cute, let me break it to you gently, men who associate with crazy bitches lose their cute in a BIG hurry. I’ve got my own special brand of cray but most bitches make that drink a lot stronger than I ever will.
So, good luck with that, hot stuff.
But while you leave skid marks on your way out of this pothole-filled parking lot, don’t worry about her being lonely. Residents last here on average 67 days. We’ll have a whole new batch for cray-cray to prey upon in no time.