Amelia Clute Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

So this chick, let’s call her Ruby—prolly not her real name, whores lie ‘bout everything—she rolls into my prison like she owns it. Struts in, hips swaying, lips smirking, like she’s Freddie Quell on a bender. I’m thinkin’, “What’s your angle, sweetheart?” ‘Cause everybody’s got one. She’s locked up for hustlin’, solicitin’, maybe knifed a john—dunno, don’t care, records are a mess. Point is, she’s a pro. Not just at screwin’—at screwin’ *people*. Got this vibe, y’know? Like she could charm the bars off this dump.

Background

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And then there's Billy Joe Road. Its twists and turns? Reflective of life's messy and unpredictable paths. I walk it often, feeling the raw pulse of Clute. That bump along the way? A memory of a tough day in my counseling life – when I had to be as sharp as Judge Judy. I once snapped, “Don’t mess up my day, or don’t even come near my office!” because honesty is king in therapy and in life here.

Douglas Charles Clute Obituary