Back in the days when everybody was old and inept or youthful and absurd and me and Sugar were the main ones without flaw, this replenish proceeded onward our piece with nappy hair and legitimate discourse and no cosmetics. Furthermore, actually we giggled at her, chuckled the way we did at the garbage man who continued on ahead like he was some hotshot president and his grieved ass horse his secretary. What's more, we kinda despised her as well, detested the way we did the winos who messed up our parks and pissed on our handball dividers and stank up our passages and stairs so you couldn't midway play find the stowaway without a goddamn gas veil. Miss Moore was her name. The main lady on the piece with no first name. Also, she was dark as …show more content…
So me and Sugar inclining toward the post box being surly, which is a Miss Moore word. What's more, Hotshot looking at what everyone brought for lunch. What's more, Fat Butt as of now squandering his shelled nut butter–and-jam sandwich like the pig he is. What's more, Junebug punchin on Q.T's. arm for potato chips. Furthermore, Rosie Giraffe moving from one hip to the next sitting tight for someone to venture on her foot or inquire as to whether she from Georgia so she can kick ass, perferable Mercedes'. Furthermore, Miss Moore asking us do we comprehend what cash is, similar to we a bundle of retards. I mean genuine cash, she say, similar to it's just poker chips or imposing business model papers we lay on the merchant. So immediately I'm worn out on this and say as much. What's more, would much rather grab Sugar and go to the Dusk and threaten the West Indian children and take their hair strips and their cash as well. What's more, Miss Moore documents that comment for one week from now's lessons fraternity, I can tell. Lastly I say we oughta get to the tram cause it's cooler what's more we may meet some charming young men. Sugar done swiped her mom's lipstick, we