Dead-Polita

I find humor in my line of work. Decapitated head, well, that's just because he couldn't keep his head on straight.

Why do they always requests these outfits? My boobs are pressed up to the max in this costume. Don't get me wrong, they definitely have a fetish fantasy that I haven't yet dreamed of - oh wait - I can't dream. I'm dead.

I love the underestimation. Cute, a swift upper kick. I remember the third grade. Wait, I'm confused? Am I the bad guy? Ok, ok, I'm not the "good lady," but give me an outfit that I can at least breathe in.

I forgot my Walkman for this battle. Instead of Pink, I'm subjected to Dido - slight my neck now. I'll provide the blade. Just kidding. Nothing gets me more turnt than "I'm coming up, and there better be a party started.

Ribs first, slow upper cut. I'm outnumbered by 12. Kind of shameful on their part. Maybe the lowcut leather is less of a deter and more of an assest. Best part of being partially alive is that it let's you feel more alive than ever.

"Let's dance." I say to my opponents. Dead-Polita is ready to rumble.