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Sudden Storms: Everything's Coming Up Rosie

Picture it, Orange County, California, the year 2020. Beady-eyed homosexual John Janssen just wants to control frozen-foods maven and OC socialite Shannon Storms Beador. Nefarious energy healer Dr. Moon just wants Shannon's money. Her vindictive psycho ex husband just wants her to die. Orange County's most powerful crime boss Mother Beador just wants her to suffer. And every last one of Shannon's friends just want the panicked late night phone calls to stop.

As Shannon gets closer and closer to the edge, a penniless, happy-go-lucky lesbian from New Jersey has become intent on rescuing Shannon from the clutches of John Janssen. Will Rosie rescue Shannon? Will Rosie have to fight the Barbarian Brothers? Will Rosie move out of her tent on Teresa's balcony? Will Rosie ever become more than a harem keeper for Madame Moon?

Find out this week on SUDDEN STORMS!

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by Archiereply 115Last Saturday at 10:43 AM

Kelly has HIV?

by Archiereply 107/26/2020

Am I that eashy to forget?

I'm Shudden Shtorms' #1 fan!

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by Archiereply 207/26/2020

R2 Liza! Are you still performing daily at Shannon's hous- I mean John Janssen's Home for Wayward Hot Guys? Or has she kicked you out?

by Archiereply 307/26/2020

Are you kidding me? A thread all about Shannon Storms Beador and I'm not even pictured at the top? Wow! I am done with you, Archie.

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by Archiereply 407/26/2020

The only thing I'll truly miss in life is tuning in every day to watch Sudden Storms.

What a delightfully silly soap opera.

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by Archiereply 507/26/2020

Did you know Mama, r5?

Can you tell me your shtories of Mama?

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by Archiereply 607/26/2020

R6 dear, your mother once asked me for something called "an upper."

I'm still confused as to what she meant.

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by Archiereply 707/26/2020

r7 in old country we have no upper, only downer. Life hard in old country. Much suffering, every day. Much pain, much heartache. Is downer. No joy in heart. Winters cold, summers hot, no relief. Is downer. People of village starve. Secret police come, take away family. No upper in gulag. No joy in Eastern Bloc.

I work hard for son. Break back in heavy toil for son. Make sacrifice for son. Now son use upper everyday. I do it all for son.

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by Archiereply 807/26/2020

Where's the Hotel Queen!?

by Archiereply 907/26/2020

Hey gurl r9!

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by Archiereply 1007/26/2020

Yo R8, what's da inside scoop on Shannon? You used ta be her mother in law.

What can I do to win her heart?

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by Archiereply 1107/26/2020

Hey bitch, R10 you better meet me at The Quiet Woman in fifteen minutes and tell me more fucked up shit about Shannon and John Janssen.

by Archiereply 1207/26/2020

And now, a word from our sponsor, Gretchen Christine Pleather Products

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by Archiereply 1307/26/2020

Why does Gretchen get a commercial and I don't? Don't my cuffs count?

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by Archiereply 1407/26/2020

Darling, you look famished.

Have a cuff!

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by Archiereply 1507/26/2020

Presently I sit by candlelight in my small apartment off Alondra Boulevard, dear reader. My eyelids grow heavy, but the heaviness in my soul compels me to compose a jot of words before I retire.

The days I pass in Orange County grow stranger. I met that woman, Mrs. Shannon Storms Beador, on my daily constitutional. At first I fled, pushed out of Stormy Manor by both my own repulsion and the fiery temper of one beady-eyed John Janssen. I vowed never to return, but after wandering aimlessly on the sands of Newport Beach, so reminiscent of the moor, I returned to that ghastly house, which seemed more gaol than proper dwelling. I let myself in through the servants' quarters -- I saw Mrs. Storms Beador's lady maid Rosie, but scant acknowledged the poor dear, always fumbling for words in her vain attempts to communicate her employer's secrets -- and slipped quietly up the back stairs. I passed John Janssen's study, where he paced before his window, cursing the pitiful Shannon, indeed cursing the whole cruel world that lay outside, beyond. With nary a noise I entered Shannon's bedroom. Still gaunt, still plaintive, but less restive and ill-tempered, she invited me to sit.

"Kind man," she whispered, "I will bear to you my soul." I pulled my chair closer to her bed, the bedclothes still damp from her own feverish sweat. "What I will tell you will stretch your credulity," she continued, placing her diseased, hot hand atop mine, "but I swear, it is true. Record every word, and when I am gone, share my story. Share it so that others may not fall into this pathetic misery.”

I leaned even closer and replied, "Tell me everything, poor woman."

Dear reader, my midnight oil burns low. Please forgive me as I must now retire and write more on the morrow of this most ghastly tale.

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by Archiereply 1607/26/2020

You tawk good, R16.

by Archiereply 1707/26/2020

In old country, r11, no romance, no win heart. Buy heart. Steal heart. Work hard, break back, pay bribe. Blackmail. Scare heart. Find any advantage. Hire Barbarian Brother, Spartak and Bartak, to threaten family. Paralyze heart with fear. Batter heart. Pummel heart. Wrest heart away.

But no romance in old country. No win heart.

Tell son, take what is yours. And everything yours. No need to win, battle already decided. Do not ask. Do not beg. Take. Is not fitting for son of mother with mustache to beg.

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by Archiereply 1807/27/2020

r4 Shannon! I find ancient book of secret! Hidden for thousand year in monastery. Full of magic spell! Full of potent recipe! Tell Dr. Moon which herb best for Shannon. Give cure to all her problem. Find solution for fat! Find solution for whining! Find solution for poor QVC sale! Make boyfriend no more controlling! Anything bad, magic book make good! Ancient secret!

I talk to monk. Book very rare. Only one of kind. Very expensive. Monastery want $30,000 dollar for book!

I willing put up $30 dollar from profit of House of Blossom. You put up $29,970 dollar. Cheap! Deep discount! Mr. Moon very kind!

Bring money House of Blossom today. Cash only! You give to Scented Peony. New niece. Very pretty.

You no stiff! If stiff Wang Senqing find you. Show no mercy!!

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by Archiereply 1907/27/2020

r4 Shannon, what are you doing online without my permission? I am very disappointed in you. It looks like I'm going to have to take away your phone and car keys and change the WiFi password ... again.

By the way, do you know the less you're featured on Sudden Storms, the higher the ratings? Thank about that. You ruin everything you touch, including every meal. No wonder your QVC line is tanking.

I'm so tired of you.

Now come give me a kiss. You know I love you.

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by Archiereply 2007/27/2020

r20 you forget big nose white woman. You come House of Blossom. We have special cure of yellow fever. We love white man. We obey all time. Always listen. Never argue. Never cry. We be your fantasy.

Very discreet.

Cheap. Only $10,000 dollar for happy ending.

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by Archiereply 2107/27/2020

r6, are you Rosie? All big nose white woman look same to Madame Moon.

You no late for shift today! You come on time!! I want smoke opium all day!

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by Archiereply 2207/27/2020

Dear Reader, I slept but little and woke still haunted by vexing dreams. I saw pieces and parts that seemed unconnected: a woman in white who moved through Crystal Cove like a petal in the wind. Her wailing echoed against each manor house, reverberating on the ivied walls. I reached out, tried to touch her, tried to grasp her diaphanous garments rent from ill-treatment; but she remained tantalizingly beyond my ambit.

And then two burly men appeared, surely Muscovites from their strange dress and manner of speech, rather primitive, it seemed, almost barbarian. I dared not approach, as they filled my heart with apprehension, and I could not quiet my dreadful qualms. They passed, and I turned to retreat back to my lowly apartment, when one John Janssen suddenly stood before me, as if placed in my path by a strange command of the gods.

Oh Reader! You cannot imagine the look of fury in his eyes. And I cannot express its full terror here, for the proper language eludes me, and mere words fail to contain his demonic countenance. My soul was jarred and shaken. His scowl sent a flock of starlings flying straight away from a tree, and in the distance, a creature of the forest howled. He commanded nature, it seemed, and dark clouds appeared overhead, casting an ominous aura over all Crystal Cove. More beast than man, I waited for him to speak, but no words poured forth from his lips.

I awoke in my bed, my bedclothes soaked with the vile sweat of terror, and vowed to learn more about these strange and unsettling happenings in Orange County.

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by Archiereply 2307/27/2020

R22 Haha Madame Moon, yous crack me up. Dat aint me. Dat's Judy Garland's dorter.

So, uh, Madame, can we tawk about me gettin my paycheck? Last week when I came inta ya office to get paid, yous handed me a fistfull a buttons an told me ta get lost. Ya musta been high offa dat opium yous always smokin. But I needs real money, not buttons, if I'm eva gonna wed Shannon Beador.

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by Archiereply 2407/27/2020

Lynne, are you still living at the Super 8 Motel in Anaheim?

by Archiereply 2507/27/2020

No, R25, they kicked me out for running a sweatshop out of my room. But what I was supposed to do? Cuffs don't make themselves, and I've got arthritis!

I've been living in a lean-to in Shannon's back yard for a few weeks now. She hasn't noticed yet.

Would you like to buy a cuff? Now I make them out of recyclable materials I pull out of Shannon's trash. 100% green!

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by Archiereply 2607/27/2020

HEY R26, I got foist dibs on Shannon's trash! Her doity diapas is mine! MINE! I'm almost dun makin a full-sized Shannon doll outta her soiled diapas, and when it's finished, I'm gunna use a voodoo spell ta bring it ta life! If I catch yous rootin tru Shannon's trash ever again, I'm gunna knock your fuggin head awf!

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by Archiereply 2707/27/2020

Are you kidding me? Someone's been rooting through my trash bins again!

John Janssen gets so angry when my trash bin area is messy.

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by Archiereply 2807/27/2020

Shannin! Shannin! I seen a big, fat, scary lookin dude goin tru yas trash last night. At firds I taught it was yous lookin for dose donuts John Janssin trew out afta he found em hidden in da uppa tank a ya toilet, but den I realized da poissen goin tru ya trash had short hair!


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by Archiereply 2907/27/2020

Are you kidding me, R29? Wow! Those weren't my donuts hidden in the upper tank! The last owner left them there! I don't hide junk food around my house! I don't hide anything!

Remember, Miss Jersey Girl, Orange County is full of secrets, and I've got nothing to hide!

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by Archiereply 3007/27/2020

When last I left you, dear reader, I sat at the deathbed of Shannon Storms Beador, ready for her to vouchsafe her story to me, a tale of grief and heartache beyond measure. Oh, how my soul still trembles when I remember her face, red and blotchy from crying, mouth sad, lips pursed with indignation!

Many have purported to know the truth; they gather in the drawing rooms of the manors of Crystal Cove in winter, and after they eat a hearty meal of quail and pheasant, they sit before the fire and speak in hushed tones, as if the dancing flames will absorb their words and carry them to the wrathful ears of David Beador. They all fear this David, they know him as a man of infamy without peer, and in their wisdom they do nothing that might provoke his wrath, so beastlike, because David is more beast than man, and his rages are more primal than those of that enervate John Janssen.

But the inhabitants of Crystal Cove, dear reader, they do not possess the truth. Their knowledge appears as shadows cast upon the drawing room wall by the cavorting of the fire's flames, and their acquaintance with Shannon, and David, and John betrays the most superficial of familiarity. But I -- I alone -- know the truth. r30 Shannon has claimed that her soul harbors no secrets, that she is truthful at all times, and with all people. Oh, can you not recognize her quandary! Trapped between two wrathful men, knowing not if she loves one, or the other -- she has lied about her ill-treatment at their hands, trafficked in untruths so as to avoid the pitiful glances of those neighbors in Crystal Cove, dissembled to protect herself from the libelous rumors on every Orange County tongue!

I must stop for a spot, dear reader, as the effusiveness pours forth from my poor soul and rends my heart asunder, and no longer can I strike my pen against the page!

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by Archiereply 3107/27/2020

Wow, R31, wow! Are you serious right now? I know which one of the wrathful men in my life I love! I love John Janssen, the sweetest, most romantic, most intelligent man I've ever met! Does he dropkick me every now and then? Yes. Once in a while, does he fill the bath with scalding water and throw me in? Yes. Does he lock me in the basement whenever he meets with his all-guys prayer group in my bedroom? Yes.

But John Janssen loves me! He says so all the time, and words are so much more important than actions. John Janssen taught me that!

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by Archiereply 3207/27/2020

r31 too many words. In old country, words dangerous. Too many words mean not enough work. Words lead to gulag. No need for words. No time for words. Only time for hard work, bad sleep, and placing flowers at statue of Stalin.

Only use words for son. Love son. Tell him he is like king, like emperor, like chairman, like god. Worship son. Tell him I buy for him woman. Tell him if happy ending kill woman, I clean up mess.

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by Archiereply 3307/27/2020

R31 Mista Lockwoods, I love yous. Can you ghostwrite da nex book I write? Its gunna be about me and my dorters all alone in my big mansion, all sad an stuff cuz my Joe got banisheded ta Italy for a crime he didn't commit. An I tink I saw my fadder's ghost drinkin hot sawce at da fridge. Only yous can tackle dis.

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by Archiereply 3407/27/2020

Mista Lockwoods! Mista R31! I forgot ta menshin dat I'm secretly in love wid my brudda, also named Joe, and he's married to an evil bitch who copies everyting I do. Except go to prison. She ain't done that. Yet!

by Archiereply 3507/27/2020

I'm glad Mr. Lockwood has started making regular contributions.

The viewers of Sudden Storms deserve a little refinement.

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by Archiereply 3607/27/2020

[I wear a lot of hats on Sudden Storms, but my favorite character to ghostwrite is Mother Beador. I don't know what it is .... she just cracks me the fuck up. Half of it is her expression in the accompanying image. Her words match that expression so well.]

by Archiereply 3707/27/2020

Does it get any better than this one?

HEY [R26], I got foist dibs on Shannon's trash! Her doity diapas is mine! MINE! I'm almost dun makin a full-sized Shannon doll outta her soiled diapas, and when it's finished, I'm gunna use a voodoo spell ta bring it ta life! If I catch yous rootin tru Shannon's trash ever again, I'm gunna knock your fuggin head awf!

by Archiereply 3807/27/2020

I'm glad I give yous so much life, R38! It's what I was put on dis Oith ta do!

Speakin a life, I'm bouta bring my Shannon dawl ta life! I spent weeks collectin Shannon's doity diapas from her trash to make dis doll. Now all my hard woiks gunna pay awf!

Diapa dawl, diapa dawl

Boyn a my strife

Diapa dawl, diapa dawl

My footcha wife

Diapa dawl, diapa dawl

Come to life!

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by Archiereply 3907/27/2020

John! John! Turn off the Liza Minnelli music and listen to me!

I SWEAR to God, I just ran into myself at my mailbox! She came out of nowhere, and looked just like me, but she smelled like dirty diapers and her eyes were black! She just stood there and pointed at me!

John, please protect me!

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by Archiereply 4007/27/2020

I think Slade Smiley should dump Gretchen and replace that beady eyed homosexual as Fat Shannon’s man. At least Slade isn’t a psycho like David and he seems to love pussy unlike John Janssen. Fat Shannon could give him an allowance and he might give her an orgasm for the first time in her life. Win win all around.

by Archiereply 4107/27/2020

WOW, r41, are you kidding me? I thought you were my friend!! No wonder John Janssen has warned me repeatedly that you're a bad influence and that you really don't care about me at all (unlike him)! And he usually punctuates this advice will a good, hard slap -- so it must me true!

By the way, John Janssen apologized for locking me in the basement. In fact, he is taking me on a sunset cruise tonight to make up for it!!! It's the perfect date.

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by Archiereply 4207/28/2020

[quote]It's the perfect date.

Sure, no witnesses.

by Archiereply 4307/28/2020

Must seduce John Janssen. Must get John Janssen away from Shannon. Must kill John Janssen. Must clear way for Rosie to have Shannon. Must seduce John Janssen. Must get John Janssen away from Shannon. Must kill John Janssen. Must clear way for Rosie to have Shannon. Must seduce John Janssen. Must get John Janssen away from Shannon. Must kill John Janssen. Must clear way for Rosie to have Shannon. Must seduce John Janssen. Must get John Janssen away from Shannon. Must kill John Janssen. Must clear way for Rosie to have Shannon. Must seduce John Janssen. Must get John Janssen away from Shannon. Must kill John Janssen. Must clear way for Rosie to have Shannon.

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by Archiereply 4407/28/2020

Dear reader, you must forgive my most grievous neglect of my account of Stormy Manor in Crystal Cove and the unsettled inhabitants within. A virulent consumption has afflicted the entire land, and poor Shannon has taken ill: she slowly manifests the signs of a grave and deleterious illness while suffering both the nefarious neglect of Mr. John Janssen and the unrelenting vengeance of Mr. David Beador. Ere yesterday I myself took to my bed with a most troublesome cough; now that it has passed without serious debility, I take up my pen again in this my convalescence.

When I last left you, reader, I sat at Shannon's deathbed overcome with sorrow at her sight: her once corpulent and robust body now consumed with illness, wasted and gaunt; her flesh, once ruddy with the signs of good circulation, now grey and desiccated. The smell of decay, of death and misery, permeated the room, the bedclothes, her cotton nightdress, and I had to avert my eyes so as not to be overcome with weeping. She sat up again as if to speak, but the gesture fatigued her emaciated frame and she fell back upon her pillow, silent. I assured her that I had time and could wait with Job's patience for her to summon the requisite strength, and her lips, parched and ashen, appeared to betray a smile, as if the simplest act of human mercy, so foreign to this poor woman, possessed the power to lift her from the deepest abyss of despair.

Poised to speak, she suddenly went silent again, her sunken eyes fixed intently on something over my shoulder. My piqued curiosity turned my head without volition, and there I saw it: Mr. John Janssen, standing ominously in the doorway, his massive figure nearly filling its frame, his fist clenched, his eyes beady and diabolical, the fire’s flames illuminating his face dripping with the sweat of unspeakable indignation.

Oh reader! You cannot imagine my horror! I was loath to leave poor Shannon alone with such a brute, whose violence knew no boundary, whose cruelty would not spare even a dying woman! But alas, I find I cannot write more: the episode is still too recent, my soul still too full of terror and trepidation, and I cannot steady my hand overpowered by trembling. I must set my pen down, thus, to quiet my racked nerves and find the composure to continue with my most wretched tale.

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by Archiereply 4507/28/2020

[Mr. Lockwood is fun to ghostwrite too]

by Archiereply 4607/28/2020

Mr Lockwood is my favorite. Youre such a good writer.

by Archiereply 4707/28/2020

I thank you with great sincerity, r47, but my probity overwhelms me and I find your flattery most undeserved. I am but a mere vessel intent on conveying the unspeakable horrors that I witnessed within Stormy Manor.

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by Archiereply 4807/28/2020

Hello R48. How do you do? Have you seen my John Janssen anywhere? I am trying to find my John Janssen so I can lead him down to the basement for some intense love making.

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by Archiereply 4907/29/2020

Yes, yes, R49, find John Janssen, take him to da basement, and knock his fuggin head awf! I command yous.

Den I'll swoop in on Shannon an make her all mines!

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by Archiereply 5007/29/2020

Reader, a night has passed in most vexed and unquiet slumbers. When last we met, I told of my nascent encounter with Mr. John Janssen, who appeared suddenly in the doorway as I sat patiently at Shannon's deathbed, poised to hear and then record her most fearsome maltreatment at his hands. He stood before us like a mighty oak might tower above a tranquil glade, and Shannon, upon seeing her respite disturbed, let out a piteous moan. Mr. John stepped in, grabbed my arm, and yanked me forcefully from my chair, his pull like the torment of the rack; I scarcely had time to turn my head for one last glance at poor Shannon, so impuissant in her bed, so desirous to shield me from Mr. John's rage but so powerless to intervene, and her hollow eyes still plague me whensoever I do drop my heavy lids.

This man, more beast than human being, dragged me from the room and down the hall, and pushed me into his study, drafty with the want of fire, chilling my poor bones; and yet the icy coldness of Mr. John's heart appeared as my greatest foe. I thought, dear reader, that I had seen the last, and that this abhorrent man saw fit to end my pitiful life.

I yearn to relay what he did say, dear reader, but the horror still proliferates within my chest, and again I must regain my composure before I can proceed.

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by Archiereply 5107/29/2020

Shannan! When are you and Jan Janjansan coming to visit me and Steve Ladge in Meheeco? I'm almost fluent in Mexican now, so I can show you and Jan around. We can visit the taco stands, the burrito stands, the chimichanga stands. We can smoke cigars, drink tequila, and go to cack fights! WOOHOO!

Sometimes I paint my face brown, put on a black wig, and wear a sambrero and a pancho so I can go mix with the Mexicans to practice my Mexican. I fit right in! I was meant to live in Mexico, Shannan!

I miss you! You don't call me fram your claset anymore! Do you hate me now?

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by Archiereply 5207/29/2020

r52 in old country, no money for hat. Head cold in brutal winter. Head hot in unforgiving sun. I do not complain. Work hard in all weather. Kneel silently at statue of Stalin in village square in blizzard. Grateful mustache on face keep lip warm.

Save money for many years, buy hat for son. Hat like crown, son like king. Love son. Protect son's head is most important.

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by Archiereply 5307/29/2020

^ This gal who's stealin' my schtick is CARNY AS HECK an' she's startin' to WARK MAH NARVES! I wanna hit 'er with a POT!

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by Archiereply 5407/29/2020

R54, are you fram Oklahoma? I haven't heard that weird af an accent since I went to visit Briana and whathisface when they lived in Tornadoland.

by Archiereply 5507/29/2020

R49, what the hell's wrong with your eyes, Shannon? And why do you smell like shit?

Do I need to throw you into another scalding bath again? Do you want me to use steel wool to scrub you down?

Answer me, you fat slob!

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by Archiereply 5607/29/2020

My eyes feel fine, R56. And I do not smell anything.

Let's go down to the basement, honey-bun. I would like to make sweet love to you.

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by Archiereply 5707/29/2020

r56 Mr. Janssen, you no listen to big nose ugly white woman. House of Blossom open for business. You come see Jade Rose. I most favored niece. Smell like cherry blossom. Feel like silk against skin. Breath like soft spring breeze. Voice soothe like music from lute.

No argue. Very obedient. Only listen. Only happy ending.

Very discreet.

I wait for you long time.

Only $15,000. Cash only.

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by Archiereply 5807/29/2020

Forget r58, r56!! We'll give you happy endings! - plural.


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by Archiereply 5907/29/2020

John Janssen, ignore R58 and R59. They do not love you the way I love you. They will not show you the pleasures that I will show you. Now come down to the basement, John. I'm hungry. I mean horny.

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by Archiereply 6007/29/2020

John, I'm all the woman you'll ever need.

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by Archiereply 6107/29/2020

Shilly Diaper Shannon r61! Shilly Jade Roshe r58! Shilly wardsh r59!

John Jansshen only hash eyesh for ME!

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by Archiereply 6207/29/2020

Yous get da fuck outta here, R62! Yous is screwin' up my plans to get John Janssan outta da way so's I can have Shannon all ta myself! Stay outta Diapa Shannon's way or I'll rip your fuggin head awf!

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by Archiereply 6307/29/2020

Oh dear reader! The latest installment in my ghastly tale will stretch your credulity beyond all measure. Presently I sit in my dank apartment, summoning the muse to accord me the fortitude to record these harrowing developments!

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by Archiereply 6407/29/2020

r63! That'sh no way to shpeak to your older, prettier, shexier, shtraight doppelgänger!

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by Archiereply 6507/29/2020

Yous betta watch your mouf, R65, or I'll sick Diapa Shannon on yous next!

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by Archiereply 6607/29/2020

Hello, police!? I can't find John Janssen ANYWHERE! Has he actually left me? He promised he'd never leave me as long as I never made him mad again. And I've been so good! Why GOD why!?

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by Archiereply 6707/29/2020

Kelly has Anal Warts?

by Archiereply 6807/29/2020

Yeah R68! I've got anal warts, vaginal warts, mouth warts, toe warts, ear warts, nose warts, shoulder warts, knee warts, eye warts, belly worts, back worts, and, my favorite, titty warts.

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by Archiereply 6907/29/2020

Kelly has Kaposi Saracoma?

by Archiereply 7007/29/2020

r70 Kelly have more than Kaposi Saracoma if she not pay me very soon.

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by Archiereply 7107/29/2020

Ha, that's one of our housekeeper's names, R70.

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by Archiereply 7207/29/2020

I love fondling all my warts!

by Archiereply 7307/29/2020

John Janshen's got wardsh,

But Kelly'sh got wartsh!

You never know what life'll give yaaaaaaa!

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by Archiereply 7407/29/2020

Sudden Storms is 3x as entertaining as RHOC at its peak

by Archiereply 7507/29/2020

R75 Hey Jeff, I miss that Daddy cock!

by Archiereply 7607/29/2020


Orange County socialite Shannon Beador's live-in-lover John Janssen has disappeared!

We're all praying for you, Shannon!

by Archiereply 7707/29/2020

r73 Kelly, can you be a doll and front me again?

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by Archiereply 7807/29/2020

R78 Sure bitch! Just bring me some fuckin' wart cream!

by Archiereply 7907/29/2020

Mama loved dollsh, r78!

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by Archiereply 8007/29/2020

Is Fat Shannon going to be wanted for questioning in the disappearance of beady eyed homosexual John Janssen?

by Archiereply 8107/29/2020

Wow, R81! Are you kidding me? Do you know who I am? I am a television star! I'm watched and loved by billions all over the world! I would never, ever be suspected in John's disappearance! The only reason the police will want to see me is to make sure I'm doing OK and to bring to tissues for my endless tears. Every Orange County cop loves me, and they would never make my latest crisis worse than it already is!

John, come home!

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by Archiereply 8207/29/2020


by Archiereply 8307/29/2020

Have you checked the basement, Shannon?

by Archiereply 8407/29/2020

I'm a pro at hiding bodies in concrete, but then, I assume John Janssen weighs more than a crack-addicted hooker.

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by Archiereply 8507/29/2020

R82 Shannon baby, Mama Rosie'll make id all bettuh! Just put dat tear-drenched face in batween my big tiddies for a while.

oooh yeah, Mama Rosie likes dat!

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by Archiereply 8607/29/2020


Roshie, you've got her!

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by Archiereply 8707/29/2020

I did it boys and goils! I'm finally movin' in wid Shannon! She loves da way I fuck her wid my tumbs!

Cousin Tree, yous can keep da tent on your balcony! I got a whole house ta live in now!

Madame Moon, I'm gunna be late for woik tomorrow. Me and Shannon are gunna bang all night!

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by Archiereply 8807/29/2020

All I want to do is eat... Rosie's hot pussy!

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by Archiereply 8907/29/2020

r88 niece missing Miss Rosie! Hurry back! Madame Moon mean to us!

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by Archiereply 9007/29/2020

I'm so happy you've finally decided to settle down, R88.

Now when are you girls gonna get married?

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by Archiereply 9107/29/2020

Dear reader, having quieted my nerves with a warm cup of tea and a salubrious constitutional, I presently sit at my humble escritoire and once again strike pen against obsequious paper.

Mr. John Janssen positioned his face mere inches from my own in his frigid study; his beady, bloodshot eyes appeared enraged, no doubt, and full of sound and fury, but now granted a better viewing position, I saw that they were also fatigued and weary, like eyes blighted at the conclusion of a long and treacherous voyage, and I decided that here was a man – or nary a man, but beast, I daresay – who had witnessed life's defeats too often, and who knew that, like Shannon, his death may not lie far on the horizon. I averted my glance for a moment; outside the window, I espied a misty rain.

Without warning Mr. John loosened his grip on my arm and sat upon a small chair. I knew better than to plan an escape, but all at once I felt the dreadful fear in my heart evanesce, and in its stead came a rolling wave of pity. I saw then that Mr. John's face had become suffused with tears, a most curious development, because he made not so much as a whimper, and I could detect no moisture pouring forth from his eyes. It was as if his face were the very visage of nature, and the raindrops outside the window had defied the constraints of this corporeal world and landed now upon his cheeks. The lamentable scene of this peculiar man weeping enlarged my own pity, and I saw a plaintive trinity unfold: the rain outside, the tears inside, and the burgeoning commiseration within my own heart.

And then he spoke, dear reader.

“I loved her. Oh, how I loved her.”

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by Archiereply 9207/30/2020

Breaking News!

This morning, John Janssen was discovered unconscious and bleeding in socialite Shannon Beador's basement, laying beside a large pile of dirty diapers. He is currently in ICU at City of Hope Hospital.

Shannon Beador and her lesbian lover Rosie have been taken into custody for questioning.

More at 11!

by Archiereply 9307/30/2020


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by Archiereply 9407/30/2020

r94 in old country, no find love. Force love. Wrest love from chest. Wring love from heart. Extract love with forceps. Batter love with cudgel. Exploit love with bribe or blackmail. Stretch love on rack. Suspend love from strappado.

Love only few things. No time for other love. Love country. Love communism. Love hard work. Love Stalin. Love son most of all.

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by Archiereply 9507/30/2020

Breaking news!

John Janssen remains in a coma at City of Hope Hospital. Doctors are unsure if he'll ever wake up.

His girlfriend Shannon Beador and her lesbian lover Rosie remain in police custody. Our sources inside the police station claim that Shannon has been crying non-stop since being taken in for questioning and has been unable to utter a single intelligible word, while Rosie pretended to pass out on the station floor and has been playing dead for the past several hours.

More to come!

by Archiereply 9607/30/2020

[quote]Shannon has been crying non-stop since being taken in for questioning and has been unable to utter a single intelligible word

How could they tell, r96?

by Archiereply 9707/30/2020

r96 you forgot mention news show sponsored by House of Blossom Massage Parlor!

No forget!

Need advertise!! Need business!

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by Archiereply 9807/30/2020

“I loved her. Oh, how I loved her.”

Reader, the words of Mr. John imbued my soul with pity, like a late spring rain does saturate the soft earth, and for the first time his bestial exterior fell away, and I saw that he did indeed love Shannon Storms Beador, that he loved her recklessly and hopelessly and beyond all measure, indeed, to the detriment of his own self; this love had brought him to a depths of moral rot, had transformed him from a mild-mannered man marked by utmost probity into little more than a serpent, slithering through the world on his belly, extending his tongue in search of bestial pleasures, and maltreating any being, friend or foe, who he believed to stand between him and his beloved. Cloaked in the irradicable melancholy of a lover’s despair, he put his weathered face into his hands and began to weep.

What a pitiful sight, dear reader! My heart shudders when I think upon it, such a man as this crying as a babe. I knew not how to console him, or indeed, if any succor or salve existed with the power to mitigate his despair, and I stood quietly in that drafty study, feeling rather out of place, like the volume of Bacon I noticed on Mr. John’s bookshelf, tucked in mistakenly among Livy’s Histories.

“It was him,” Mr. John said suddenly, jolting me from my thoughts of Rome. “It was him, and long ago I vowed to take my revenge. I knew that it would ruin me, but oh! I loved her and I did not care. I bid you stay, until I have uncovered for you my rotten soul!”

“I …” my voice seemed small and distant, but my resolve to discover the horrible truth remained steadfast. “I shall listen.”

Just then, our meeting was diverted by a noise from the doorway. We looked posthaste and froze in our abject horror ...

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by Archiereply 9907/30/2020

Shannon is doing a Instagram Live video right now and peddling all her snake oil COVID cures!

by Archiereply 10007/30/2020

Is John still in a coma? Is Shannon still in jail? Is Rosie still playing dead? Is Vicki still going to cack fights?

by Archiereply 10107/31/2020

Is Kelly isolated? I mean isn’t she high-risk? You know with having GRID or whatever it’s called?

by Archiereply 10207/31/2020

You fucking bitch, R102, I don't have GRID! I have GERD! And AIDS!

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by Archiereply 10307/31/2020

Mr. Lockwood has unfortunately taken ill. After his period of convalescence he will happily return to Sudden Storms.

by Archiereply 10407/31/2020

Oh noes, R104! Does Mista Lockwoods got da Corona!? Tell him ta feel betta!

by Archiereply 10507/31/2020

I'm a glutton for punishment and watched Shannon's Instagram Live video in which she detailed her brave struggle against COVID. (Sudden Storms always needs new material!) And it largely involved her discussing the snake oil treatments she's trying.

At one point she mentioned John Janssen has tested negative for COVID ... SIX times. Fans called her out on that ... telling her they've had friends and family members wait weeks for a single test result.

Asymptotic and tested six times ... what a typical rich, white, entitled male inhabitant of Orange County.

In other words, a perfect customer for the House of Blossoms.

Calling Dr. Moon!

by Archiereply 10607/31/2020

r105, your concern is appreciated but most undeserved. I've only been struck with a mild case of malaise. I shall take up my pen again when this unfortunate debility passes and I find myself restored to my former good health.

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by Archiereply 10707/31/2020

Whaaa? A mild case a mayonnaise? Dat sounds gross, R107.

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by Archiereply 10807/31/2020

Are you entitled Orange County asshole?

Are you sick of bitch blond wife?

You want woman who no talk, only obey?

Come to House of Blossom! We treat your yellow fever! We fulfill your every stereotype of Asian woman! We give you happy ending!

Very discreet! Credit card statement say "Wang's Garden Chinese Restaurant." Bitch blond wife never suspect!

Beautiful Asian woman! Many to choose! They be your fantasy!

Book appointment today!

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by Archiereply 10907/31/2020

Dear reader, although the hour late, and my inkwell low -- I cannot replenish it until the morrow -- I pledged to you a few lines tonight and obligation compels me to deliver them to you. But please do not presume that I feel unduly burdened: quite the contrary! The story that I unfurl fetters my heart, and with each word I set upon the page, the bonds are loosed a bit.

Having confessed to me his love for Shannon Storms Beador, a love so violent that it had led him willingly to his own ruin, Mr. John wept inconsolably, his face obscured by his hands; and I saw a man at the end of his life, his aspect as the sun at the inception of evening, when the shadows extend long and lengthened over the land, when dusk threatens but does not yet emerge, when the day's delights and sorrows begin to weaken and recede into the crevices of memory. Unable to mitigate his sorrow but needful of the details of his tale, I stood poised to listen, to etch his story into my mind for later consultation, the story you find now before you. But a noise at the door jolted us from the task at hand, and we looked together with horror.

Oh reader! It was Shannon who stood before us. Her diaphanous gown fell loose upon her emaciated frame, like a thin sheet draped over the skeleton in a surgeon's study, and her agrestal hair called to mind a lunatic in a madhouse. Her appearance betrayed the horrors she had witnessed. Given her acute consumptive state I could scarcely believe she mustered the will to leave her bed and travel down the long, drafty hallway to Mr. John’s study. But when I looked closer, I noticed her gown was torn, and that a jot of blood appeared below the rip. She could not speak, but the abject horror in her eyes conveyed the extent of her distress, and when she moaned -- oh, reader, how her cries pierced my poor heart! -- I thought the exertion would drain the last drop of life from her wasted body.

Mr. John beheld his inamorata and sprang up from his small chair. “Oh God!” he explained, “if you thou dost reign within the heavens, then you will clear for me the path of vengeance and forgive me of this sin! But if you cannot, then you cannot; no matter. I will exact my revenge on Mr. David Beador nevertheless, who has so ill-treated my beloved, and will then cast myself into the bowels of Hades, will throw myself headlong into the unquenchable fires below!”

His voice joined with Shannon’s plaintive moans, creating an almost unbearable cacophony in Stormy Manor, reverberating against those damp walls, indeed, casting their echoes over all of Orange County, nay – over all the world.

And then, uncannily and unnervingly and above all, unaccountably, everything returned to its former silence.

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by Archiereply 11007/31/2020

I apologize, on behalf of Mr. Lockwood, for his sloppy prose at r110. His state of rather justified agitation at the moment of composition rendered unerring syntax unfeasible.

by Archiereply 11107/31/2020

r109 in old country, no happy ending. Ending is secret police. Ending is gulag. Ending is death. Ending is heart ache and misery.

In old country, only happy ending is wake up alive. Happy ending is work hard, break back, place flower at statue of Stalin.

Happy ending is happy son.

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by Archiereply 11208/01/2020

Wow. David had officially crossed over from hot daddy to serial killer.

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by Archiereply 113Last Saturday at 10:36 AM

Oh my god he is hideous.

You fuckers have SHIT taste.



by Archiereply 114Last Saturday at 10:41 AM

David was hot prior to his serial-killing days r114

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by Archiereply 115Last Saturday at 10:43 AM
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