I worked in a supermarket when I was young.
The resident crazy lady - who often spread the remnants of her bowels around this hypermarket of cheezy food - was known locally to be a prostitute. A big smelly weird-eyed shitty prostitute.

She also frequented the butcher's counter in order to 'put a cow back together again'. (The fruits of her scientific efforts were found growing faces in the back of her car.)

Imagine if the prostitution and bovine-building were somehow intertwined...

(Poor the mentally ill. But that was America, land of the free...home of those not able to afford the proper medical attention one might require to avoid a fetid life of a poo-stained small town hooker with an interest in green meat.)
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Wed 12 Aug 2009, 21:54, Reply)