INABELL IS DEAD, SAVIOR, AND WE PRAY THAT THOU WOULDST GIVE US THE STRENGTH TO LIFT HER AND CARRY HER TO HER GRAVE. INABELL IS DEAD, AND, JESUS, WE'LL NEVER AGAIN HEAR HER GRAVEL-ON-THE-WINDOW VOICE, HER TAIL-IN-THE-DOOR VOICE. WE'LL NEVER AGAIN SEE HER GOITER SHAKE LIKE AN OLD APPLE IN A WINDSTORM. INABELL IS DEAD AND GONE HOME TO THEE, OH PRECIOUS LORD. WELCOME HER WITH OPEN ARMS AND SPREAD 'EM WIDE. SHE'S DEAD, OH PRECIOUS LAMB, WE'RE SURE OF IT THIS TIME. SHE WENT OVER IN HER KITCHEN WITH A THUD, SCATTERING HER CHICKEN SURPRISE FOR HER ILL-TEMPERED, LITTLE, POP-EYED, SLOBBERING DOG, WHO ATE MOST OF IT. INABELL IS DEAD AND GONE AND LEFT US HERE TO CARRY ON AND CARRY HER BIG, FAT, ANNOYING ASS OUT TO THE GRAVE AND BURY HER DEEP SO SHE WON'T GET UP EVEN IN DREAMS TO HOLLER HER INSANE SHIT AT US! THANK YOU, JESUS! THANK YOU, LORD, FOR TAKING INABELL!. I BET SHE WAS HARD TO LIFT, EVEN FOR THEE.
Cut 'em into bacon, slice 'em into ham, Chop 'em into hot dogs, squeeze 'em into Spam. Throw their little eyes out in the rain, Throw their little eyes out in the rain, Throw their beady little piggy eyes out into the rain, Pickle their feet and pickle their brains.
Kicked the bucket!" Big sale on Tuesday." data-size="small" data-dnt="true">
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