Blogtrawler, I’d marry her. But I can’t. The poor bitch. Even you could tell, yes yes positively tell that Milly, that’s Mildred, wants, needs, really desires me. Oh! but, who am I? Let me give you a dramatic pause, let me let me. Or would you rather an energetic drum roll, would you would you? Yes… I am Erica Breedglee, Miss Erica Breedglee, attorney at law, RAH!, kidding kidding, just kidding, I’m actually an international fame kitten, a budding bugle of sex appeal, blurting out, hooting aloud my passionate moanings, and grindings and yearnings. Some of you may know me off Popbyotch, you see, I don’t know if you know this but I used to make independent shorts under the pseudo name Little Miss Kitty Fiddlesticks, my friends told me it was a great name but then the far right came after me for what would be my final film Tights on the Kitchen Floor 4, and well, as we all now know, that would be my last short and the death of Miss Kitty and back to England, back to Erica, back to my darling bundle of joy who I’d kept quite unashamedly naturally literally dangling over those white cliffs at Dover, pining for me, yes she was, she was, she was pining for her sugar mummy, pawing frantically at framed photos of us in her kennel, doubtless knocking them over, the poor bitch. She’s gorgeous you see, simply gorgeous, but a bit of a clumsy fucker. Yes. Aren’t you? You can’t see this, obviously, but she’s sort of nodding her head, trying to anyway, she’s on these pills from the doctor and they make you very drowsy, don’t they don’t they?
I write because I ache. Hurt. I have… a hard time of it, two four seven. I’ve had a complicated life and it is not over, no.
Will you join me? Will you,,, will you,,,