Rose: Nun, Wrestler, Filthy Whore



You left me and took every dollar in my wallet. You didn’t tell me why, hell, I didn’t even really now you that well. I worried that I had given my love to a woman who can only take. I use to wonder where you went, what you left me for. Now, I’ve figured it all out, I know your trajectory, I know where you landed.

When I met you Rose, you were on the run from your pimp. You wanted a new life, a second chance. I was young, naïve and daft. I should have known better, with a name like Rose, I mean really, but you had kind eyes and I will admit, I noticed your gorgeous rack. What can I say, I was smitten.

When I awoke I was angry and hurt but I know you have done good things since. Why I bet, your still living off that fifty dollars somewhere in Mexico. I bet you mended your evil ways and became a nun, who wrestles in secret in order to pay for the orphanage she founded. You’re really hero to those children but you always remember me, the man who so charitably lent you those fifty dollars, so many weeks ago. I’m the real hero.

I will admit, the first few times I told this story I was a bit remiss and played up the prologue without any mention of the epilogue. From a dramatic perspective, I can now see that as flawed. I will do better to paint you in the light that your good deeds have earned you. Mostly, I will learn to forget you, as I will be surely sadden me with every memory of your passing, my one congress with a saint.

Rose, you’re still a dirty rotten whore and I hate you.

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