Her father threw a glance back at the funeral home. “Oh Angela,” he wailed. “How can I leave her in that cold, dark place? Damnit, she should...be alive and well and sleeping in my bed with me!”With gentle persuasion, Angela managed to get her father into the car. The man spoke not a word all the way to his house. Tears dripped from his eyes as he stumbled up the steps to the cold, lifeless home that had once know love and joy.As Angela took her father’s keys to open the door, she looked. He struggled and then regained his composure.“Babs, you heard Princess. Find something oily,” he finally said. “Even if it’s your own pussy juice.”Babs pouted but exited the stage. I decided to take charge, stood up and took the mic away from Bernard.“Hallo boys,” I addressed my audience using the best Mae West voice I could muster. “I want something slim and heavy. A gold pen would be good. If anyone has something like that perhaps they would like to come up onto the stage and insert into my. More

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