My life was a mess. I had just dropped my phone and cracked its screen. People at church were spreading gossip about the collection basket being lighter every time it passed my pew. Grandma had forgotten my name but kept asking if Ed McMahon had returned her call. Fuck. I just couldn’t win. Then it happened. The lady at my neighborhood taco truck gave a gummy smile and a wink, with her good eye, as she handed me the sticky bottle of salsa fuego. The universe seemed right again. A faint mustache never hurt nobody. Let’s be honest, playing with those soft, giant chi chi’s would be so worth it. Nala Brooks has a strong back.
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