Money. Boys, we need money. All the poached hen in upper Arkansas can't gild our washtubs and sanitize our washwomen. This is a time of great contention and it is not yet certain that our fucks are in order. Get on the Youtube, boys, get on in there for the long haul. Tie a hair clipping dipped in molasses to a mule and send it to West Twitter. get out a Big Fucking Picture of a Fish and Look at It. SNEESUS, MOSES, AND HARRIET. NEVER IN THE LIKES OF THREE CONSECUTIVE ALL-COUNTY EQUINE FISTICUFFS SYMPOSIUMS HAVE I SNYFF'D THE LIKES OF THREE ALL-COUNTY BEAN-BURSTIN' HOOCHY COOCH LIKE THAT'N. What do you say, old fuckers? "Sure's shootin, she's mighty fine...jus' itchin' for a status update!" #Sheriff Longabee: Uh-uh-uh, this ain't the time for rustlin' about. As I been sayin, we need to settle down a minute, don't be jumping the fence in an antique Mobile Upload like your crepuscular old hallway-starin' granny. "My oldest just had her first poop in the commode. My second youngest, Harold, died in childbirth and my oldest, Patricia, works for the Acquisitions department in an Old Time Saloon just down the Dirt Road from over there because it's the Old West and horses and tequila and milk
To Be Continued
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