My night job was more fun.My long feature article, and eventual book, were coming together, but I was pouty and fretful and I eventually unloaded on J...an, or Nicole or whomever.“I can’t do this,” I whined. “I don’t have anybody to sell this to. I want to be a journalist, not a prostitute. Well, a journalist and a prostitute. No, I want what I’ve always wanted. I want to make it on my brains, not my beauty”“Brains and beauty,” Joan replied, “everybody should be so unlucky. They didn’t stop. . or murder? And you have to do it, or so help me God, I’ll blow off your cock right now!” Aunt Myra insisted, just before Lindsay attacked her with a lamp.“That’s for killing the only Daddy that I ever knew, cutting him, and cuckolding him with that prick Barry, my sperm donor! Daddy was a wicked man, but at least he was never that cold and heartless to you as you were to him!” Lindsay tossed me the shotgun.“Now, Karen, your turn to choose. Which one to save? Stepdaddy ... or auntie?” I turned. More

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