Hello, My name is Hillary and my dad is making me tipe this for him becaus hes in a bodey caste with his eyes covred and i'm an honor role senior in high school but as long as he heres me tipe then hes ok becuse i can't understand what hes saying cause hes speking throu a straw and he sounds like a moskitoe on steroids so scrue him anyway the dum bellybutton should have never gone bunji jumping anyway. Are any of you guys relly hot or are you fat old guys liek my dad is? I'm relly hot and all the boys at school like me but the girls all call me a ho cause there boyfriends like me better than them and my parontes want me to go to coleag when i graduate next year but i want to be a dancer at Tailfetheres cause my friend Heather dances their and she maiks 500 dolars a night plus she has cool boyfrends that take her to Las Vegas all the tiem. i was a chereledere until i broke the ruels and got kicked off the chereleding squad and now they wont let the chereledres ride on the bus with the football team anymor and everyone says its all my fault. My dad is stile squking away like he thinks we can undrestand him and last night he sucked a chesekake throu his straw so it looks like he wont be losing much wait while hes in his bodey caste with his jaw weird shut. Do ane of you want to see my pictur in my chereleding skirt? good hes startn to fale aslep now so i dont have to tyep anymor so gotta bounce.
I have resisted posting further on this subject because the Homeless Problem in America is such an emotionally charged issue, but since you brought it up I will share with you the probable scenario of this terrible, unfortunate accident....Chante is parked at a red light, still marginally buzzed from 48 hours of doing Estacy and drinking 40s with her new lover. It's late at night, dark, and Ms. Mallard is half asleep.Suddenly a filthy dirty rag clutched by an equally filthy dirty hand is rubbed across her windshield. The hand belongs to Greg Biggs, a local drug addict, alcoholic and homeless man. Mr. Biggs begins demanding money for "cleaning" her windshield, but all he managed to do was spread only God knows what kind of filth on the windshield of Ms. Mallard's car. Mr. Biggs stands in front of Chante's car, screaming obsenities and demanding money, but Chante can't see Mr. Biggs because he has spread only God knows what on her windshield.Chante, scared out of her wits yet still trying to be polite, beeps her horn twice and proceeds to drive slowly through the intersection as the light turns green. She feels a hard BANG on her hood, which I believe to be Mr. Biggs' bottle of Mad Dog 40-40, she panics, floors the accelerator and the next thing you she's face to face with Mr. Biggs. Can any of you possibly imagine how foul Mister Biggs' breath had to be as his face was suddenly inches from hers after he smashed it through her windshield? Can you imagine the terror Ms. Mallard must have gone through on the rest of her ride home? And Mister Biggs suddenly starts demanding Medical Attention in addition to the two dollars for cleaning her windshield that he just smashed out with his face! Thank God Chante was able to drive home safely with this raving mad man breathing his foul breath on her, his nose just inches from hers, making demands and threatining legal action against her. Being buzzed from the Estacy and the marathon 48 hour sex session with a new lover, being light headed from the stench of Mr. Biggs' foul breath and emotionally in shock from this entire incident, Ms. Mallard passes out and sleeps for two days. She wakes up, rushes to her garage to a barely alive Mister Biggs and, realizing it is too late to save the dying man, she clutches his hand, sheds a tear and says "I'm sorry" as Mister Biggs expires. (lowers eyes, shakes head sadly at the expiration of Mr. Biggs)Now let's talk about the character of Chante Mallard. Her friends would commit crimes and risk imprisonment for her or maybe even KILL for her, they love her so much. As Milnko said, I wish I had friends willing to go to the mat for me like Chante has. Greg Biggs? Hell, even his family didn't know where he was and there is no evidence anyone even cared.Occupation? Chante Miller has dedicated her life to nursing, which is as noble a profession as a young lady could choose. She has made the choice to help people, whereas Greg Biggs has dedicated his life to being a burden on society as a homeless derelect armed with a greasy windshield rag.Future? Chante Mallard has a bright future. She has loyal friends, a great career helping others and is a bright shining star other young women should emulate. Greg Mallard? He was a bum. We don't even know if he died from the terrible unfortunate accident he was responsible for or rather he died as a result of his drug and alcoholic lifestyle. He was 39 years old, and most derelicts die by 40, so what difference would a year or two make to a man like Greg Biggs given the fact he'd spend it drunk or on drugs anyway? Chante Mallard has suffered enough. Her life, along with her car, will never be the same. Ms. Mallard is the true victim here, and I think the reason so many of you are so up in arms over this is because you are racist against African Americans. Please, let's not try another African American in a high-profile racist attack by the Press. Let's wait for the jury to decide her guilt or innocence before we convict her. Let's not make the same mistake we made with O.J. Simpson and convict an innocent African American in the press instead of in the courthouse. Let's not ruin Chante Mallard's life- we owe OJ that much at least.Elfenwolf for the Defense
