Excerpt from Wicked Bitch

 
“Song, song of the South, sweet potato pie and shut my mouth…”

I have heard it said that any question or dilemma in a man’s life can be answered by watching the Godfather. I think for women in the South, the same can be said for Gone with the Wind. No matter what life throws at you, just step back and say to yourself, “What would Scarlett do?”
Someone yells or gets hysterical, slap the piss out of ‘em. You are a perfect hostess, a lady, and a sex kitten, even if you hafta make your drawers out of curtains. You know how to wrap a man around your finger and play a simpering harpy like a tom cat slowly murdering a mouse. Your family is hungry, your house burns down, Sherman marches through your front yard, shake your fist, get your hands dirty, dig, in, and fight like hell. You depend on the kindness of strangers and you never, ever let it show when you are drunk. Somebody threatens your well being, blow his head off. Life gets too hard to handle, take a big ol’ drink of good whiskey and say “Tomorrow is another day.”

You have to know how to look like a goddess, drive fast, ride hard, get dirty, fight dirtier, and make a man sweep you up in his arms and whisk you off to bed. You gotta know how to raise one eyebrow and melt the paint off a steam engine and affect a grin that makes men fall to their knees and thank God. You gotta know how much skin to show, how to waltz in heels, and how to push your boobs up like a roasted duck on a silver platter. You gotta live like a rock star, bitch like a soap star, shine like a shooting star, and fuck like a porn star.

When you get caught with your drawers around your ankles or your ankles around your ears, you just put on your sexiest dress, throw your shoulders back, hold your head high and show em that frankly, you don’t give a damn.

Every now and then, you just have to get in touch with your inner bitch.

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