Harper Roye Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Montpellier

I’m pissed, right? Last week, she swiped my whiskey—MY WHISKEY! Said, “It’s fate, sugar,” winkin like she owns me. I’m yellin, “Fate don’t pay bills, dammit!” But then she twirls, skirt flyin, and I’m laughin—can’t help it. She’s a devil, a freakin delight. “What’s it gonna be, boy?” she teases, quotin that movie I love. I’m hooked, Clarice, hooked bad.

fairness meter

That we must take? I feel doubt moving in my mind. It must be. That bastard's fault,. That son of a whore,. Who led us. From war to war,. Who let our brains.

So, I’m standing there, watching this whole thing unfold. Some guy starts shouting about how the baguettes in Roye are “too crusty.” I’m just shaking my head. I mean, I love a good baguette, but this is next level. I’m trying to keep a straight face, but it’s hard.

Obituary for Laura Roye Davis