tap. tap. tap. tap. tap. tap. the sweet rap of raindrops scampering across our roof come three o’clock this morning. my two crusty beasts and their surlier human all barked disgruntled disfavor to the interrupted slumber. as hostess of the household it was my...
the face, l’accent, and the dramatic interpretation definitely do their best to distract from what is a truly grisly, wretched, dismal story. how old are you young lady? what exactly do they teach these babes over there in france? murder? suicide? chicken box?...
