Can you hear it? Wafting gently like a syphilitic nightingale’s gin-perfumed song adrift on the breeze of sour disapproval? It’s the tinkling melody of exactly ZERO jaws dropping at the news that K DD has returned unaffected from her stretch at the “deprogramming center”. Wherein burly felons were reduced to weepy, girlish hysterics as a result of their failed attempts to inflict “tough love” on our girl K DD, vis-a-vis her brobdignagian alcoholism. Or as she refers to it, her “nicey nicey”. Thrusting helpful pamphlets under her liquor-drenched moosh only served to whip her up into an unfocused rage. Has anyone seen “Mad Dog” Jenkins (aka Prisoner # 112542) from cellblock C recently? No? Really? Well don’t go digging around in K DD’s litter box any time soon. You may just find a scrap of convict-scented buttock skin with a prison tattoo of K DD’s paw print a-mouldering under the Fresh Step. Don’t be squealing, ya stool pigeon. Or you may be next. She will stone cold SHANK you.
You’d think the fact that K DD only has ONE outfit (consisting of her hashish-matted pelt and some grotty “accessories” from the dumpster behind that strip club) would preclude her unwarranted advice regarding the fashion choices of others. THINK AGAIN, CITIZEN! She gets all kinds of queeny when god forbid you should don a festive lounging outfit to watch the Super Max Jail marathon with your hand down your bloomers and try to have a little breather from scrambling about plucking up the glitter-studded dingleberries that K DD leaves around the house like a urine brick road to abject despair. She claims that she used to be a Project Runway consultant but we all know it was just another one of her vodka-induced delusions. Like when she thought she was on American Idol when in actuality, she was just staggering through the car wash again singing “It’s Raining Men” in her “bold soul sister” voice and gesturing grandly to passing hobos as if she were Patti LaBelle.
Kitty DrunkDrunk did some hard time in the pokey and her thousand-yard stare recommends you back away from her stash of radiator wine or she will CUT you, man! Seriously, you have NO IDEA how much contraband she can fit up her “cavity”. One time an old Betamax machine came flying out of there while she was flailing around doing some wasted Riverdancing in the kitchen. Followed by DOZENS of switchblades and packs of Newports. It’s like she’s forgotten how to live on the “outside”.