FRENCH CHARITY - Lounging on her Paris balcony was not what Tanya did when she was up to her chinny chin-chin in black market squid because she slaved for a living: cracking snails, testing Bud Light, injuring ex-lesbians in the latest **** fight, and when she wasn't bored stiff, 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘨𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘦𝘵, 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳-𝘧𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘔𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘑𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘣𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘳𝘰𝘤𝘬-𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘵𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘰 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯, she gave generously to charities that fight crippled children. Once our heads are cut off we can get along great because we want to. New medical problems won't make a corpse sicker, just like drinking extra liquor after you're already drunk won't make you quicker. Oh God and Jesus! Why can't ambulances be eighty-five percent cheaper?! Once we become jail buddies, I'll collapse in your arms like buildings do when they're hit by plastic-nosed jet planes. Once we become children of God, I'll have my upper teeth fixed.