AVOID INFLUENZA— LIKE PLAGUE! — mrjyn (@mrjyn) ... Kaddy Korner GROCERY Home of the Killer Jerry Lee Lewis WOODY WOODARD

https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/17868479353782354/ . . .

 

snorting Meth through designer masks, cut their Insta eyeshadow at a glance, to the eyeliner Michaelangelo, Cleopatra, and Cleopatra smirks.

 

Kaddy Korner Grocery Grocery Store

 

199 Malone Rd S, Hernando, MS 38632 Cross Streets: Near the intersection of Malone Rd S and Malone Rd N/Byhalia Rd "Can you Mashed Potato?" she asks with a growl. Then slaps her pussy, hard, finishes, "Nah, 'Watch me, work!'"

 

AVOID INFLUENZA— LIKE PLAGUE! — mrjyn (@mrjyn)

 

 

another woman to whom I won't get through Ladies, Ladies: The Perfect American Standard of Perfection Editor: doug meet avec fiona apple par mrjyn

 

 

Time to lay A Fine ass down on that baby blanket BLUE and with cornflower, I sprinkle it on my monds of of girl power Venus: Don't come in my pussy, pull out ya penis, and listen to every filthy thing i ever heard in the whirl of growin' up easy an Ain't no thing be called a girl, unless ya a guy, then it's time to tumble. Punk ass bitch better learn to rumble, cuz he hot, he got XLs in his pocket, right next to his point, his gat, and his four bags of powder, this dude ain't swingin 'Air Jordan, he swingin' like Tyson , when he in the ring dancin ', not on the stand. Cuz that motherfucker who taught hi like he was his father was white as a Hyundai lot on the Fourth of July, when he died, Mike got high, started bothering women. He got Don to manage; he managed to get paid, and pay him somethin 'a little bit on the side, and to bonus him guarantee, if it turned out the guy that weighed him in was not wont to be paid. Off came the layers like Rochambeau nesting dolls, talking shit, shedding pants not pounds, goin 'out of style. Don pulled off his rings and pulled off his ears, what gold he could find, and he shoulda been a Nazi for the stuff he found stowed, like Mike needed colateral, not a quick cross and jab, then thwack, instantly quieted, not even well fighted it, motherfucker lay on that ring with a tooth made of gold and a marvelous fracture, he dreamed of his mamma and his daddy and raptors: in it he was gettin 'chased by a lady who then turned into his pops, then she got kinda fussy and she started to drop all of the stuff that she found in her britches: aces of hearts, a derringer gun, an Italian stiletto, some mutton and jowels, stank ass tripe, chicken necks, and gizzards fried up, then he smelt something like McAfee's sexlife, kinda Corprophagic; he twisted his nose up to the side and could feel his throat clench up, then he saw it outside that slow roiling funk, the back side of 60 in high heels actin 'crunk, like Tyer Perry's momma was when he was a kid, and his auntie, and sistah, and friend lived there with 'em, the Perry's weren't rich, but they were funny to seen, but these FRESH offal innards from small gut of intestines weren't simmerin' there on a gas pit just makin 'him festerin' those shit tubes weren't deliverin 'feces, they was cookin' the rubber out and the taste and the shit in it, and when they were left, I don't what the fuck they'd eat, some peoples made noises some halfway stood floated up from their seat, they sucked on the oleaginous sewerage of edibles, and some actually joked about something so foul, that it aminded him of that book called Alive, where them Argentinian footballers crashed on that mountain, Donner Party Part Two, let the ass eatin 'cannibals, survive in a jet nose dine out like Hannibal, L ectur was a doctor, medical or fake?

 

I don't know but that doc sure could fucking bake. I went to a dinner that I RSVP'd to, and fine dining it was, all formal and shining, silver shone choppers and teeth masticatin 'reflections and quick did I catch the old Cannibal erect, from watching them eat he caught an erection; Notelling me nothing, not even to stop; I ran out politely like a combination of Bruce Jenner and Jason's teenagers sprightly, like it wasn't really Truman but Holly Golightly, who stayed up there in New York her little apartment, and watched all the rich people milling around like rich goats, then she thought of some more beause the pot that she smoked was primo from Humboldt specifically Eureka from an outdoor grow grown by two ex-Navy SEALS, so that one day the chopers came circlin 'from some GPS system that matched home and light bill, like oil like gas, they dropped over down and on top of some mothers, who'd been sittin there quiet just waitin 'to sprout like a 14-year-old red whiskers and kif, fuckin' grunts never did training, nor stood on a beach, never felt the peach fuzz tickle from a 30k plant, some motherfuckin 'cop gettin' wings gonna fly when from Madam, ladies. ladies' ugly, the ladiy's ugly. Finally the déaux, her navigué, and the sidéral aunt can leave us alone ... cont. Kaddykorner4

 

GROCERY #HomeoftheKiller Jerry Lee Lewis III

 

#WOODYWOODARD

 

Owner 368-9755

 

*I got me one a JERRYLEELEWIS.org Polish Rabbit fur coats and a picture for provenance from the nicest fellow in Nesbit, or at least KaddycorKorner hell, one more 'k' that don't stand for killer and nothing'd matter it'd be gone like the wind. but if god made any better to k'd konvenience store in the middle of the nowhere at the end of the road on Malone where there's been Kay Kays and Shawn's and plenty of dippers and Tarps and Tarrants and Lash Larue bandits, theirs been biphetamine bozos and eskatrol newbies who fell on their face when they realized their other half was just barely winning over that fast one who was trying his hardest to beat the barbituate who was bringin' this shit show from the airport to Hernando's Hideaway the former, not the latter, where no hipsters dared, or to death they'd get scared and never find out what that place was the matter. but if you guys miss it, and i know that you do. Bill Strom, and even Kerrie, well, Killer at least then, and that guy who liked lighting rum up right next to your eardrum and laughing like shit when it blew the fuck up, it was 151 rum and that stuff is supposed to. But really everone knows who was runnin the show, not Kenny Rogers, name only,, or the strippers, who liked frozen pizza, nor setups or fuck-ups who liked crystal meth, it was like Cheers with a habit only Memphis could fill, Dr. Peter Nicholas Hyrka and Nichopoulos regularly took me out there, on Brooks Rd. where you find me with black horn-rimmed glasses, with Linda Gail Lewis and her number horses asses husband who tried to impersonate Elvis, and you never seen the Killer look so goddamned fierce, took his nose in between his pointer and thumb, you the two digits that each hand has that both clear $5,000 a year, well, it's in Myra Lewis Williams book, take a look, but anyway, he grabbed and he pinched and he shook and he looked, and said, son, only one person could impersonate Elvis, and if Elvis isn't fuckin' her, why the fuck ya think you should? or somethin' insane, to which Bobby Memphis, that New Jersey rube, with tears from his eyes squirted Bob Gruen Bobby Saucier nope #Stefanow but , nope #kittycorner but it's kickin' me off. i guess i said what i had ta, but forgot to a-mention the heart of the club's name, Mr. Shit, Robert Tinsley, he sang on my record I cut for the sister, and hates that name but he'll live and don't forget to catch the video he made of us all bein' high one Mother's day night real late Sunday

 

I'll post a link later. Kelly Hali Chelette Graham Knight Ross Johnson Lenny Smith to myra. sorry i cursed but i liked it but i'm sorry. and to the ever never forgot whole gumbo in this pot stirrer Frankie Jean Lewis rip you were too smart to go much...but ya know, she was there ... blah miss her blah

 

BYHALIA PLEASANT HILL GAS ICE PROPANE FUEL MALONE 199 South Malone Hernando. Miss. 38632 Open 7 Days 6:30-9:00