I Am a Bad Little Poodle

I am a Bad Little Poodle. I did not sell. It must be fuckin' crackheads bidding. I have my tail curled up in the perfect "fuck me" stance. You can use all my holes back there. Didn't you see the little knob like a clitoris on my lid? I am a sugar bowl. You're a total retard for choosing him over me. You must have drunk your baby milk out of a lead bottle. You just bought him because he is a slack-jawed cum-guzzling cocksucker of a creamer. He actually laughed at me as he climbed into the box. Through the fucking bubble wrap! We were supposed to be sold TOGETHER! He swore it. Never trust anything with balls hanging from it. I hope his poodle topiary rots. Forty eight years we were together. I stood by him when he developed that hairline crack. And I don't know who he thinks he's fooling about still being young. I can see his craquelure from here without even enlarging the jpeg. EBAY calls like a whore and here I am left standing next to a fucking patchwork farmer sheep in bib overalls who sits in a miniature cane ladderback chair and talks to himself all night. Alone. He gets California and I get to stare at a dust bunny in a blizzard. I can't even remember what sugar feels like anymore. Somehow I knew I'd end up like this. I should have just gone into the abbey early. Before the men got to my sweet granulated. Their horrible sweet cream. Dear Cocksucking Husband, could you be a Sweettard and just do me a favor and Die? Just die. I hope you fucking break. I hope your delicately glazed cock breaks off.