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.
No, Kitty DrunkDrunk, you’re supposed to tilt your head back and touch your nose with your OWN finger, idiot! Look at her! She can’t even SIT a straight line, let alone walk one! If you look out the window you will see K DD’s purloined scooter which she curb-jumped onto the sidewalk after a full day of pounding tequila with her enormous ex-cellmate from lockup. Apparently she thought she could keep pace with a 400 pound Samoan with a liver the size of K DD’s entire body and you know what? She just mighta done it if they hadn’t been kicked out of JoJo’s Paradise Lounge. It’s not HER fault that dilly broad behind the bar can’t take a joke. I mean, it wasn’t a REAL gun. They were just having a little contest for old times’ sake to see who could carve the most realistic revolver out of soap like they did back in the pokey. You don’t even want to know where the little paper umbrella was shoved when K DD came lurching in the door, singing sea shanties and doing a vulgar little hula.
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”.