Okay, that might be a lie.
The "3 people" is really more like one. But since that one is Karla herself, I honestly don't know if she's planning on FINALLY confessing to what I've long known to be the truth about her current pregnancy...here where people won't find her. Or if she's hoping to befriend me, as she's rumored to have done to others, after which she'll be able to use me for god only knows what deviant purpose. I'm quite naive see.
*shudder*
Anyway, I won't lie; she scares me. I mean, between the internet legends, the extensive series of psychological case studies, her lengthy criminal background and a series of heartbreaking videos recently leaked by one brave survivor (a man being held in protective custody) who only managed to escape her soulless clutches after gnawing through his own leg...it's become quite clear: she's absolutely bonkers! I can almost see her now...bed-ridden in that filthy hovel of a home, enraged and unable to prey on people as often as her many personalities demand. She's seething at the confinement imposed, ironically, by the only shred of her life that's allowed her to pass for normal all these years. Biding her time, she continues to coax me (and others!) into her deceptively sweet snare with her wily ways and pretty profile picture until one day, BAM! She changes from the docile, mildly retarded persona everyone loves to that of a depraved degenerate. Viciously demanding we supply her with trophies of toenail clippings and earwax candles while systematically wearing us down with her incessant phone calls and blog comments (No Karla, I don't want or need gently used storm windows from New Orleans and I already have several 5-gallon drums of cookie dough!). She's really sick ya'll!
...
But anyway....in my horror I seem to have digressed...where was I?
Oh yeah, her purpose for wanting me here. Yes, more than simply satisfying any of her many, twisted addictions, I think her heart longs to confess. To tell the world (okay, just me) the truth: that her second (I know. My GAWD this isn't the first time!) crotchling is not the result of one night of unbridled passion with the man she calls husband as she's led so many to believe. That poor, sweet, unassuming man (bless his heart) still clings tightly to the possibility that he fathered the first one when it's well documented with the Border Patrol that he was, in fact, working 167 hour weeks at Karla's insistence, smuggling midgets from Columbia to work in their basement organizing her extensive, sickening collection of porn and used band-aids. The word on the street (the only place anyone seems to talk about her....coincidence? I think not!) suggests that this time she's having somewhat of a celebuspawn. Seriously! See my guess is, coming here is her way of lightening the already suffocating load from her conscience without anyone finding out. I'm a huge nobody see. So it's damn near perfect for her.
The guy, who as I mentioned is somewhat of a celebrity in addition to potentially being the man given an all access pass to Karla's no-no special place when it mattered most, may have actually played "Spartan #247" in the movie "300".
I managed to locate this picture of him. And I don't know about you, but he kinda looks like her first son as well. Tsk Tsk!
4 comments:
patti? are you karla? cuz you sound just like her! i'll be back...
oh god no! My hump is more conveniently located behind me....
you're not a hitman (hitwoman? hitperson?) are you? It wouldn't surprise me if she sent one you know...she's always been rather lazy.
How very Karla to make up for a lack of blogging by coercing other people into blogging about her. She's clever that way. And by "clever," I mean "deserving of a drive-by poo flinging."
As for the father of her child, imagine the horror that would have been averted if only the mysterious Spartan had remembered to bring Trojans.
First, the review:
Two thumbs up for the word "crotchling."
Three thumbs up for the tagline "Because I wasn't breastfed."
Five thumbs and a toe up for "Karla's no-no place."
Next, the criticism: You didn't mention my beautiful breasts. But I'll let it slide this time.
And finally, the truth revealed: The child is indeed Brian's, but you were right to suspect something was amiss. The truth is, Brian has been dead for several years now, after what I like to refer to as the Unfortunate Eggbeater Mishap. So how did I end up with two kids of his, both under the age of three? No, I didn't freeze his sperm--I actually froze his entire genitalia, including the testicles, which I used to achieve Child #1 and now Child #2. I am ashamed that I've been carrying on all this time on my blog as though Brian were still alive. Thank you for allowing me to feel free enough to finally admit the truth.
Oops, gotta run--mustn't overcook the meth. My grandma would turn over in her grave if she saw me defiling her precious family recipe.
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