Lala's Haiku Journal Scribblins

When I stayed with Oleg and his wife, Slutvana, she taught me how to write haiku. I think “haiku” is some sort of weird troll word? That’s what the town folk say at least. I use them to unwind though. It tough being me, you know?

The day I met her,
An ass that rivals mine own,
She is my main bitch.

Olegia, fair
We are one soul, split in two,
Two cheeks, one booty.

To the trading post,
A diplomatic couple,
They’re both lesbians?

Offer turned sour
Lesbians torn asunder
I guess it’s a win?

The words come to me,
We go speak to Slorp,
His name, Slurpy-D

S-D shares with me,
His thoughts on the unicorn,
Colorful, at best.

The Dead Unicorn,
Murdered, suicide, a witch?
Nothing is certain.

Lala, Slurpy – D
Put a ft. in between ’em
Platinum scrolls, yo.

Hoarsport has a cult,
Scorned, bitter-ass bitches,
Lala finds suspects.

Suspects are jailed,
Hoather’s infinite wisdom,
Lala fixes it.

I have to take great care here
Hoather, not allowed.

Cultists in a barn,
“I have a man here to kill”
It’s believable.

Gerona you bitch,
You got some weak ass cultists.
Fuck ’yo barn. Fuck it.

Haikus help me relax. Now that I’m done with them, lemme just say…. if I ever meet that Irovetti motherfucker… I will sing and dance with the fury of a million bitches in heat. I will destroy everything he ever loved. I will stomp on his dick with my boots. Nobody threatens MY house. I thought Hoather’s ignorance was the greatest threat to this city, but clearly there is something far worse. And to be honest I would be… very confused and upset if anything happened to Baron Farland. I mean, that ignant motherfucker, Hoather.



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