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| have you heard? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Opalville | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| have you heard? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| My name is Opal. Yes, as in Opal Mehta. Yes, as in the low-caste daughter in law of Zubin. Yup, as in the disgraced concertmaster of the Boston Pops. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| I did not attend Harvard, faithfully or otherwise, although I have been known to dabble in its cess pool of unusable knowledge and self important pomposity. | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| My name is Opal, as in Opal Mehta. I am either not quite a young adult, or very overgrown little girl, depending on how promiscuous I happen to feel. Which is very. I grew up, more or less, in a Tijuana orphanage and house of ill repute, where I learned early on the priceless value of sexual favours. For example, my beloved caretaker used to lovingly refer to me as her beloved little cocktease. She taught me how to accentuate my latent womanhood, |
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| and generously showed me what I would eventually become sooner or later: Who needs Harvard when you've got a body like mine? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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| have you heard? | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
