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Money can't buy this kind of love (or knives)




For the first two years of my life, I was the youngest child in the Lebrookski clan. It was a good gig and I was cute as a muthafuckin button. Then you guys came. It was all downhill from there...drinking, drugs, unbridled wanton behavior. The two of you drove me to all of that. I was washed up by the age of five. Remy, Cris...it's taken me 24 years to drum up the courage to say this, but my therapist says it's something that I need to get out in the open: before you guys were born, Mom asked me if I'd rather have a little brother or a little sister. Stupidly ('cause face it, all children are stupid...all the time), I said "I want both."

I should have told her I wanted a puppy. Truth be told, we probably could have afforded one if we didn't have two babies to feed at once. There I said it...*

(Click below for more)


* = Just in case you didn't get it, I'm just foxin' with y'all...happy birthday.

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