" Look, Miss. I'm a single man and I don't have any children. I'm afraid you've got your information all wrong." I didn't come all the way out here to...get turned away," she huffed. "If you changed your mind about having a babysitter, you're just going to have to pay me a $50 cancellation fee." I'm not paying you anything," he said, growing annoyed. Then he took another look at her and reconsidered. "Unless you're here to provide some other special services," he laughed- images of sex with this. ? ?Good.? Now shit for us, like agood little disgusting nigga boy.? On the floor, where youare.? Don?t squat down, we want tosee it drop from your hole, nigga slut-boy.? Just keep your knees bent a little.Good.?? He was so fucking terrified hewas going to shit himself anyway.? ?Turnround and spread your ass open with your hands.?In fact put your finger-tips either side of your hole so you feel theshit as it drops, there?s a good niggacunt-boy.?? He did it.? A luscious black teenage turdslid out. No guest in his home had ever slept on the couch. He just hadn't been raised that way. While he was stretching the kinks out, he heard a knock on the door. He quickly grabbed his pants and started pulling them on, yelling out, "Just a minute! Be right there!" Once he got his pants and got to the door and opened it, he saw a man who seemed to be the quintessential bookworm stereotype. The man, with his oversized glasses, looked at David and asked, "Would you be Mr. Samson?" "Yes, that's me.". The man knew how to make you feel special, and he’d taken a moment to talk to me. Later my granddad had been joking around with his buddies, and someone had spoken the now famous line. It had stuck in my head. It was a sad reminder that I would have to be careful about what I said around my boys. I didn’t want them repeating something inappropriate to the press.“Sorry,” I said. “They gave me some hefty pain meds, and I think they’re kicking in.”I made sure I looked appropriately sorry. I can be.