#oatie

I'm at the bar, couple of pints with the lads, except I'm all alone with no lads. Whatever. I'll enjoy a solo booze cruise. Suddenly, some hot chick with the fattest ass I've ever seen comes storming in, slaps her hands on the bar top, and demands a beer. She drinks Carling, what a surprise. "Oi love," I call out, and the lass looks and me with a frown. "I dont know u, but you've got a bangin' pair of cheeks and I think I'm in love with you." Ur about to be like "yeah same," but then you realize who I am. "Ur that bitch off Tumblr, the dirty Micah fucker," you growl. Oh no, it seems the sin follows me wherever I go. "Heard u were chattin' shit about me too," u add. Fuck sake. Can't go anywhere these days. "Yeah, it is I," I shrug. "I ain't chatted shit about you tho, you must be clapped." You don't reply with words, but with firsts, as you pounce on me like an angry kitten and try ripping me to shreds. I am just a little rat, a poor little rat who is being mauled by this kitten. "AKLJFDJFKSL!!!!" I cry out. I think I'm going to die, I'll never write my dirty fanfiction again. I'll never get to see the sunrise or bust another nut. This sucks. But God has blessed me, or cursed, as the notorious Micah Bell kicks down the pub doors and comes rushing over, screaming "HELLFIRE CHRIST ALIVE YEEHAW MORGAN," as he breaks us up. He picks us up by the scruff of our necks and threatens to spank us for being norty, but we both raise a brow and flash each other a look, and Micah picks on to sexual tension thickening in the air. "K. Threesome," he states. We do the do, it's great, Micah gets pegged and fisted and cries because it's all too much. Then we get married, the wedding is class with Arthur and Dutch as strippers, and Micah cries when we drunkenly make out with them. He's a cuck tho so he loves it. Time for the speeches and toasts with beans or whatever it is people do at wedding receptions. Micah clinks his glass and spits some bars, telling everybody how much he loves us, and then goes "HELLFIRE!" before cheersing and downing his drink. Fuckin hell he's coughin and cryin and oh shit oh Micah Bell has died. X__X "Poggers," I say. The popo somehow spawn in and we're arrested because we're women and those pigs are sexist. They take us to the station in our lovely wedding gowns and we r shoved into a talking room thing. idk the name. the one where they go "WHY'D YOU DO IT!?" they ask that question n we say "we did it for the inheritance." "Oh ok fairs," the police shrug, and let us go. It's Micah so it's not really a loss, if anything we did the world a favour. We are now 58 cents richer, a pair of black widows, debating who our next victim is going to be........................... The end