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TP 8

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That's not even your laundry, that's a suitcase.

Don't lie to me.

Jim called me and told me all about your troubles.

Oh yeah?

What do you know?

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He called you, that son of a bitch husband of mine.

What?

Called up to complain about me.

Watch your tone young lady.

Talk to me like that.

I know what's been going on and how you've been acting.

And you know what?

I don't blame him for throwing you out of the house.

Oh my God, you don't blame him?

What a bitch.

My mother would never talk to me that way.

I can't believe you.

You are a mean, evil, wicked foster mother.

Oh, I took you off of the streets and I gave you a home.

Streets, schmeets.

I can take care of myself.

I'll do what I want.

You know, Jim and I were talking

and he asked me how I handled you and how I disciplined you.

Yeah, I told him.

And frankly, he called me about the divorce.

But you know what?

I begged him for you to come over

so I could take care of you my way.

He asked you to do that?

Mm-hmm.

I told him he needed a spanking and that would keep him in line.

Yeah, right. I'm too old to be spanked.

You are in no position to argue, young lady.

You are in my house and I believe that you need to be spanked right now.

Right now.

Get over here.

No.

Just like this.

Oh, yeah, right. Like ****** again?

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