Fatima Linlithgow Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Now, *Margaret*—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not your whore!”—and I’m thinkin’, dang, that’s power! Word’s a weapon, y’all, cuts deep. Makes me mad when folks toss it lazy-like, no guts behind it. I’d sign it myself, but my hands’d prob’ly tangle—look like I’m ropin’ a calf! Whore’s tricky, see, ‘cause it’s half insult, half legend. Ever think ‘bout that? Me neither, ‘til now—brain’s smokin’ like a BBQ.

The Legendary Tale of the Black Bitch of Linlithgow: Scotland's Unlikely Heroine

Lunchtime rolled around, and I thought, “Finally, a break!” I headed to the Linlithgow Palace. You know, the one with the stunning views? I sat there, munching on a sandwich, and just stared at the ruins. It’s beautiful, man. But then, I saw a bunch of kids playing near the fountain. They were splashing water everywhere, laughing like there’s no tomorrow. I felt a pang of jealousy. I mean, when was the last time I laughed like that?

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