Sidrea is a cheating scumbag bitch. She cheated on Darren with Amber. Amber was a good person, but she never knew the evil of Sidra's ways. Sidra was possessed by a bad spirit. She was hitting herself in the belly when she was only one month pregnant. Fucking bitch. She was a wicked slut. She wanted everyone to die. She was a maniacal bitch. She could care less about her name being tarnished by the newspapers. She was an ugly Native American woman with thick eyebrows and curly hair. She was a mean monster. Nobody loved her. She was so so hurt by the fact that Sidra cheated on her. Darren was a nice girl. She had a great nickname for Sidra too, the river runs. She was cheated on because she didn't want to make-out on Sidra's birthday. She didn't like to make out all the time, and she was very irrational, about why she didn't want to make out. She just didn't feel like it. She was a jealous slut. She wanted to kill everybody. She was a wicked witch. She cast spells on people, and performed Voodoo. She wanted everyone's lives to be hell for what they put her through with the torments. She wanted to get a gun and shoot people. That's what a crazy person would do she thought. I was scared to be in her presence. She took a knife and stabbed herself, faking her death. The blade was a wicked tool, but she used it to kill herself. That's what the legend of that house is anyway. So, guys, want to go see it?
I wanted to drive my car, but Sidra's ghost lingered in the back seat. She was saying, I'm captured. He's out to get me. I'm scared. She was dying on the shelf where her father put her after turning her into a doll. Chuckie, her ex, was there, and he was scared for her well-being. He was afraid that she can acquire his passwords and use his account. Someone hacked her profile on facebook. She couldn't get over this dilemma. I'm a brilliant man, she announced. After gettting her sex change operation and robbing a bank, by collecting money in a drive thru where they had thirteen thousand dollars. She was outraged. The cause of her death was her own doing, but legend has it, she still haunts that house. I'm not going in there. You can't make me. She said. She took her life, and that was that? How is that for a great fable? Do you wish I tell you more? She was a psychopath? No. Not quite. Deranged. Degrassi was the best show in television history. I had to make a story like that. I was a great writer in a past life. I'm back to cheat death, and make sure no one dies in that house. We're traveling back in time to another era when all of this happened. I'm scared for my life. The book's going to be successful. I have a series of books that I want published. I'm going to hell in my next good movie. I'm playing the devil. I'm scared of God's wrath. I'm a spider in my next look. Look. At that. Man. He's going to hell in his name of the lord God. He's my man. Back off. Crazy bitches. I'm scared for my life. What do you think of my story? Is it good? I'm going to hell in my next life. I'm praying to St. Anthony that I get my own penthouse in the hotel I'm staying in. I have the biggest room, and I'm renting it out to my nephew, using my maiden name in my programs. I'm secretly married. I don't like the FBI tracking down all my information. I'm a stewardess at an airport, and I got fired for not being well-trained. I hate flying coach. I guess that's why you don't have private conversations with the speakers on. I was a great dancer. I worked in a strip club, meeting a different guy every night. There were some married men in there, who I made sure to not dance as sexy for. I wanted the big bucks. I wasn't some homewrecker who wanted to fuck every guy who came in for a lap dance. I quit that job, too, because a man took a picture with his phone, and sent it to his wife so he could show why he wanted a divorce. I was the other woman, and I felt so ashamed. I was a great figure skater, but I cut my ass on the ice. I guess it doesn't work like roller skates. I was so scared at how much blood I was using, and the fact I was on blood thinners, and it didn't clot. That was the scariest thing of all. I had worked several odd jobs, before my thirtieth birthday. I was celebrating it at Mary's house. She was a cabaret singer in a hotel. She got her start in the business by singing on the streets of New York City. Nobody really paid attention to her when she was out in the streets, but she attracted a crowd when she was singing. She wanted to be a Broadway star, but her voice wasn't good enough, so she had to be an extra. I wasn't that good a storyteller when I was a kid, she announced, but I wanted to write so bad, that I read more books. I was a porn star, in a film where my panties were showing when I was playing basketball. I was a professional. I wasn't the right time that I would go around telling everyone how to have their cake and eat it, too. I wanted to celebrate my twenty fifth wedding anniversary by giving a blow out salon to my house's maids. I wanted to get everyone's hair done, and have them all look super good. I don't like when people look ugly. I know that if I had a steady hand, and an eye for gory things, that I'd make a great plastic surgeon. At least I support the act of getting made over to look better. I guess that's why they have doctors that perform cesareans. I am a boring pop star. I wanted to tell you that I'm a good liar, but I'm not the world's best liar. Oprah Winfrey was. I based my novel off myself. I was a talented actress, but inexperienced, not knowing that you have to move your limbs a lot to be on television. It was a dream of mine to be a singer, but all the notes I hit were flat. I could mimic Barbie Streisand's accent when I sang a song from the movie, Funny Girl. I was good at that. Those were my strengths I guess. Anyway, good night. Sweet Dreams. Don't let the bedbugs bite. MUAH. LOVE YA. Bye.