Free Birds, Dead Pets, and Prostitution

From the moment of her conception Little Twit was damned if she did and damned if she didn't. It was a family curse. She will never forget the day her Daddy taught her how to tie her shoes. He laughed and laughed at her futile efforts and finally said, "You can't win for losing, can you Little Twit?!"

She received the nick name "Little Twit" by chirping at a sweet little parakeet named Twitter that she got from the lady next door who was raising birds. She loved to twitter at that little peep and coax him to come out of the sock she put in his cage where he was fond of sleeping. Certain the reason he spent so much time in there was because he was sad and depressed about being cooped up in a cage all the time, unable to spread his wings and fly, she left the cage door open and gave him free roam of the house.

The moment Twitter emerged from his sock and discovered freedom he flew out the door. Little Twit was certain that he would be coming home like Lassie, and refused to cry about losing him. But Twitter never came home. Neither did Dinky the deer, Clara the goat, Wolfie the dog, or Zookey the cow. Wolfie was shot and buried for chasing sheep. Clara Cabrito was consumed at a family reunion. Zookey ended up in the family freezer. Dinky disappeared during dear season with the bell on her neck.

Fortunately a feral cat can be counted on. When Little Twit's family moved they left Spotty behind because out door cats always go back home if you try to move them away. But not this one. It took two weeks for that darn cat to find them, but it showed up at their new house meowing for milk again. Barney the beagle proved his loyalty too. One time Little Twit and her family went to visit grandmother's house, and several hours later that darn dog, who had been left untethered at home sleeping on the back porch, showed up exhausted on Memaw's back porch having run thirty miles to catch up with the family. Little Twit loves cats and dogs because she can count on them to follow her around until the day they die.

At sixteen, Little Twit was sick and tired of being stuck between a rock and a hard place in her confusing dysfunctional family of origin, so she jumped out of the frying pan into a fire and decided to marry. Her heroic catapult was a preemptive effort to avoid bastardizing her forever-to-be un-conceived only son. With less than one smooch and an easy landing that proved it wasn't possible for her to do anything right, she made that bed and she was destined to lie in it until she came to her senses and realized no God would intend for "until death do you part" to mean until your husband kills you. When you can't please anyone else, you might as well please yourself. Little Twit filed for divorce. That is how she learned the hard way that trying to make things better when you ain't got nothin lose is sure to make things worse.

After three years of dutifully doing her wifely duty the newly divorced Little Twit swore she would never put her brand on another pony without riding him around the block a few times. She probably should have won the Kentucky Derby for her Goldilocks attitude. Searching for the big O in the sky, the magic man with the magic wand who could make her come, the first one was too big, the second one was too small, the third one took to long, the fourth one didn't last long enough and on and on until her therapist convinced her perfectionism was the problem.

She had sex with dozens of men performing exotic poses and eliminated every one of them. All swore that sex with her was the best sex they ever had. None could believe she didn't think so too because she seemed to be enjoying herself. Someone dared to speculate that she might be a lesbian because he lacked the love-making skills to satisfy women. Another thought she must have been sexually molested as a child. Amused by all of the well-meaning lovers who wanted her to go see a doctor and be healed so they could marry her, Little Twit made other plans.

Tired of serving mankind without having an orgasm Little Twit began to jokingly ask, "What's in it for me?" The response "How much do you want?" only came as a surprise once.

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