CRACK ATTACK!
You ignore the bitch and begin scouring the apartment. Within five minutes you've found several pounds of marijuana, an ounce of black-tar heroin, ten pills of ecstacy, several assault rifles, and even that bitch who used to star on that stupid show 'Blossom' curled up in the corner of the rat-infested bathroom, foaming at the mouth as she O.D.'s on God-only-knows-what...BUT NO CRACK IS TO BE FOUND!!!!!!
You find Whitney Houston in the kitchen, drowning her sorrows in a bottle of vodka. You grab her by the throat and strangle her for several minutes, which she probably finds kinky. "Oooh, baby," she moans seductively, "I like it rough." Well of course she does! That's why she hooked-up with Bobby Brown! Speaking of which...
"You better get on the phone with that boyfriend of yours!" you tell her. "I know that cock-eyed son of a whore has some crack...or at least some powder cocaine!" But Whitney refuses to give in. "You don't want to go fuckin' wif Bobby," she warns you. "That fool will pop a cap in yo ass before he even thinks of givin' you a refund. I mean, you got a receipt or sumfin'!? What you thinkin', cracker? We Wal-Mart or sumfin'!? There aint no refunds up in this bitch, white-boy!"
That comment earns the dumb ho another black-eye. Well, damn...what are you going to do now, cracker?
You find Whitney Houston in the kitchen, drowning her sorrows in a bottle of vodka. You grab her by the throat and strangle her for several minutes, which she probably finds kinky. "Oooh, baby," she moans seductively, "I like it rough." Well of course she does! That's why she hooked-up with Bobby Brown! Speaking of which...
"You better get on the phone with that boyfriend of yours!" you tell her. "I know that cock-eyed son of a whore has some crack...or at least some powder cocaine!" But Whitney refuses to give in. "You don't want to go fuckin' wif Bobby," she warns you. "That fool will pop a cap in yo ass before he even thinks of givin' you a refund. I mean, you got a receipt or sumfin'!? What you thinkin', cracker? We Wal-Mart or sumfin'!? There aint no refunds up in this bitch, white-boy!"
That comment earns the dumb ho another black-eye. Well, damn...what are you going to do now, cracker?