My good friend the hillbilly
My friend Miss Peach Hill Billy, is currently in Vegas, had to go to a wedding, she was not sure what to wear, she kinda tried to ask for my advice but that’s a land where I don’t pretend to land foot, telling a woman what to wear to a wedding.
Miss H. Billy comes from a very conservative family, so I told her it would be a great idea to come out of the closet during the toast and make the wedding about her and not about the bride “Mom, dad, grandparents, beautiful wedding isn’t it? By the day, I’m gay and a democrat, cheers!”, I would pay to witness that.
I met her when she was studying abroad, we both thought the other was a serial killer. I’ve always thought of her as a smaller version of Jeffrey Dahmer. After our third night out together I came clean and told her I was glad she hadn’t killed me, she laughed it out and confessed that she felt the same.
She’s a bit of a psycho when she’s traveling, she’s the kind of person who must be 10 hours before her flight at the airport and if you keep her from that her lips go white (I swear that’s true) and you’re likely be eaten by that monster.
Once when she was drunk (hammered) she wanted to walk home by herself, me being a gent, didn’t allow her to do such thing and walked her home. I had to endure many things on the way, from attempts of public exposure (she needed to pee) to keeping her from jumping off the bridge just because. It took me 1 hour to get her into her building. She would ask me to leave, to go home, she didn’t want to see me there, whenever I said I was leaving she would start crying and tell me that I was a shitty friend for leaving her alone.