AUBREY A.

she's a night trane,a thunderberd, a lid irish rousse all bundled, she's got a tongue like a dynamite,a heart like a cherry bomb, and fingers like stap-and-pops,she bomoards her incindiary way along the main street,alternately carcking smiles and breaking hearts. her lipstick is that vivid, pure red you only get from mixing sphinx blood with a liquor brewed from a fluid found only in the pineal gland of blue whales. she'll drag you into a dark alley and leave you frightended, dirty and bewildered. she'll tear the flesh off your bones and make you like it. she'll not even feel a thing. she's got the body of a porn star, the voice of a phone sex operator, and left hook of a heavyweight boxer. her victims have reccurent visions of her every time they venture into busy streets. the'll catch her in the distortion of shop windows, then the'll duck for cover,expecting the bla st. but all their most violent nightmares can't compare to the horror of her presence as she blase donw main street, she is her own apocalypse