Purrfect Phone Sex

Here at purrfect, we are greatly saddened to have to announce the tragic deaths of four of our own purrfect girls.

Maureen, Pink, Zora and Cherry were on a road trip, enjoying the last vestiges of summer, traveling down the East Coast on their Harleys.

Actually, Pink had a Yamaha, but the other girls gave her so much shit about it, she never talked about it much.  Truth be told, it was probably the nicest bike of the four, as the other three Harleys were well classified as “classics�, meaning lots of rust and wire holding them together!

They got really drunk and had decided to ride straight into a big storm, and they headed down the coast. With the wind in their hair…. They kept getting sober enough to forget why that sounded like a good idea, so they would stop at crazy bars wherever they happened to be when their incentive and motivation ran out.

They wound up in a bar in Raleigh, North Carolina, a fateful stop that would prove to be their last.  Apparently, their was a local woman there who had just escaped from a mental institution down there, and was in there nursing a blunt, and chasing down psychiatric meds with a beer and a whiskey, and her little gang of massive miscreants.

This “Dirty Donnaâ€� as she was known by  the locals got loud and boisterous, and was getting right up in Pink’s face, and that didn’t go over well with Maureen, who busted a beer bottle on the bar, and brandished it at this “Dirty Donnaâ€� and her posse.  Zora whips out her nun-chuks, and  Cherry whipped a throwing star right into the seat next to the one called “Dezzyâ€�, and said “Sit, bitch!â€�.  The throwing star had actually pinned Dezzy’s moo moo to the chair, so she was trying to get up and pulling the chair with her.   Zora is spinning those nun-chuks around dizzyingly fast, and one of the rowdy’s makes a move toward Cherry, and gets a solid nun-chuk whack to the chin, going down in a heap.  These freaks decided to back off about now, and our girls finished their drinks and decided to head out before “the man” showed up.

Unfortunately, “Dirty Donnaâ€� and her crew had went outside and cut the brake lines on our heroines bikes, and all four of our friends sailed off a cliff into the ocean at 110 miles per hour.  It was reported they were hooping and hollering all the way down, and their bikes, and their beautiful, purrfect selves vanished beneath the waves never to be seen again, a victim of underhanded treachery.  It was pretty obvious that “Dirty Donnaâ€� and her gang couldn’t have won in a fair fight,  so they had to resort to the kind of cowardly treachery that had made them the rightful rulers of a small, dirty piss-stained, vomit smelling bar in a backwater town. They will be missed……

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