I knew from the beginning I would be wed to my Lord, though I fought my father’s decision bitterly, having privately accepted my lot to rule my family’s lower household. Father longed to raise our name from ashes into greatness, however, so he offered me up to my Lord — a widowed, aging weasel, who had no heir to his name, his stature or his wealth — never guessing such dealings might breed a bitter, vindictive heart in his precious daughter.
After all my years in poverty I decided to get real and expose myself.
Now I’m rich, shivering and cold and wishing I could take it all back.
“I’d fancy a Blackened Horseradish Crusted Hawaiian Swordfish, a slice of Caramel Tiramisu, and a nice bottle of sherry to wash it all down,” Roger said.
“Alright, right after the government provides me amnesty for my student loans,” Michael responded as he opened the dumpster lid.