Why am I getting this horrible feeling like Jeffrey is being held hostage by Missy telling him that she won't leave unless he pays her more money? Now I don't know his living situation but I am getting the image of some blonde freaky ex stripper stalking around one of those luxury trailers with a pistol in her hand acting like she's some kind of spurned woman....you know, like out of some kind of pulp fiction movie. It's like a Quentin Tarrantino movie, but inside is Jeffrey, a victim of his own Tarrantino-ing...and he's cried wolf so many times that this time he can't even get his own security team to get involved.
Missy's outside of his trailer stomping around, makeup disheveled, perfectly curled hair, no longer curled, fat ass cheek hanging out, ripped up Fabletic sweatshirt dress that she "isn't gonna live in" any longer...and she's pissed. Gone are the sweet, "Jeffreeeeeeeeeeey's" now they are just "Je-FF's!" She's the girl that's gonna be a star, one way or another...and if she's not gonna fit the bill, the bills are gonna fit her. Where's the money you promised her in her dreams Jeffrey? Where is her bank account that never ended...you promised Jeff? Where are all those promises that you never promised?
You see one thing that Missy Pissy won't be at the end of this...is that one that lost the last fifteen times she tried it. The broke ass bitch that never wins. This time, she's gonna be Gwen Tamponi...er Stefani. Um, yeah, bitch, no your not.
You aren't getting another dime...you may get some bracelets...but this time the locket, is spelled differently. Lock - it.
