Before we start this episode of talking shit, I just want to talk to you about some important things.

Did you go down to the beach yesterday and look at the word I wrote in the sand?

Yeah, you wrote the word crab.

And with me I've got a piece of stationary and I've written down

exactly what the word means to me. Every since prom I've liked being

fucked by unproductive dogs. Well sure enough I got crabs. I had a crab on my kunt so big you could have boiled it and added some season and spice and had yourself a hell of a meal.

I contracted those crabs from the prom king. He fucked me in the limo after he accepted his award.

He told me he wanted to fill my slot with unprotected cock. That way he could give me his crabs.

I thought he was goofing around

but he was dead serious and loving every minute of it.

Within a week crabs had infested my cunt

every inch of my fluff bucket was covered with those nasty little Benereal

Rerman entitled crabs. Sometimes they would bite my clit and it would feel great but most of the time it was horrible

and made me feel inferior.

I didn't know how to get rid of them and I didn't have health insurance so I lived with

them for 10 years and three days. I tried sitting in tomato juice

but I heard later that was for getting rid of skunk stint so I figured if you can't

beat them join them. I named every single crab that had moved onto the surface of my snatch.

As far as I could feel there was 20. Raymond, Lupe, Bobby, Ernest, Dixie, Lawrence, Shirley, Steve, Alejandro, and Neche.

Eventually, after I saved up some cash, I turned my attention to a doctor who helped

me killed the crabs. At the time, I was happy to be free from their constant biting, but then

became suicidal because I had killed my friends that had been by my side for 10 years.

...