'I'm not fucking dead yet,' said Rosa, the old bat.
And even if she is dead, said a friend of mine, it's easy enough to bring her back, 'and readers need little to no explanation.'
That said, Rosa wasn't ready to die.
'I'm gonna fuck over that guy who ripped off my son.'
Rosa was talking about the Poet.
And I'm her son.
'He's my surrogate son.'
I got his address, I told her.
'Give it to me,' she said.
Rosa was about to board the CIA helicopter to Bangkok to knock a few democratic activist heads together.
Aung Soon Shew Shit Hole was installed by the Burmese Junta in 2011 in a rigged democratic election.
And when the military didn't rig her to win again this year, she cried foul.
'She's nothing but a lesbian spinster who smells like mothballs,' said Rosa.
Things were heating up.
'And I know my history so don't question what I say,' said Rosa as she kissed me goodbye.
'And don't forget to eat fiber,' she added, as she jumped inside the helicopter that was heading north from Perth to Bangkok.
