Billie Bob Taylor
Benedito must have been a critter half drunk on cow manure during a half moon at a honky tonk, if he thought I was dumb not to realise this group of men were his past harem.
As if my very husband-to-be did not have the reputation of being the first slice of bread on a sidewalk. The universe knew how many people he had graced with his sizzling naked body besides me whilst I sat here as pure as a white chicken on thanksgiving dinner.
I feared if any of the men bent just slightly forward by how short their skirts were I would have to get holy water and exercise the indecency out of them. Ma would have had a stroke by now and trust me the other people in the restaurant seemed just as close.
