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The program started out with the promise of a surprising exclusive and a parental control warning.
The fuck?
After like five hundred fucking commercials selling everything from dog food to detergent, they were back.
I didn't tell Butterfly about this shit because I didn't know what the fuck was in store for me, so I'm sitting in my media room while I have her cloistered away in our master bath, relaxing in some bubbles.
The segment opened with some pretty graphic pictures of O’Reilly and the Pooles, all of them in what we'll call...compromising positions. Geez.
This shit is fucked; let's just say there was a dog involved, nasty fucks.
In the background running on a loop could be heard conversations between the parties involved, all except Humphreys, who was implicated by the others.
On the tape, Poole could be heard lamenting the fact that he never got the chance to fuck my wife. Sick twisted, perverted fuck.
The wife was not too happy about the missed opportunity to come up in the Wood, not to mention the fact that her husband had been photographed with a much younger and much prettier starlet, all for nothing.
O’Reilly was more concerned about the mystery person who was claiming to know what they'd done. Go, Derrick.
The video jumped to footage from earlier that day of the three of them being arrested in different locations. The charges varied from indecent behavior to cruelty to animals, and those were just for what was captured on film. They also threw in defamation of character, fraud, and a whole slew of shit that I didn't know what the fuck.
The fucks all cried violation of privacy, but the damage was done. Even if they got off lightly in a court of law, they were done in the Wood.
Two weeks later, we received a bouquet of white roses for her and a bottle of Dom for me. The note said, Enjoy your life, cousin J.
Well, fuck me.
