My evil sister, Leora, the arielist, Satan-Bitch-Khomeini, the Adversary to my Job, The Ultimate Parasite, the biggest obstacle to my ascension, the contradictor of my visions and accomplishments, should have been executed years ago.
If you want to know why I, and all of you as well, suffer it is because you ruined that part of The Plan. All deadlines were missed. Perhaps THAT is the primary reason we are heading for destruction. Shape-shifter Dad can be trusted only so far.
Describing her, as above, is not really sufficient. I composed a poem about her. It should be a better way of describing the walking disaster that she is. She finally succeeded in sucking the life out of my Uncle, after getting several thousand dollars from him, because she made his private life her business. She disgusts me in every way.
She is the one they call Professor Higgins
Turning knaves into gentlemen is her trick
Her genuine interest will raise the station
Of any pitiful Tom, Harry, or Dick
Her best subject has no roof over his head
Desperate, uneducated, unwashed ones
Are most grateful in her laboratory bed
“She must be insane,” all her neighbors mutter
Every time they notice her getting dressed up
For her Saturday night trip cruising the gutter
The most certain thing she could possibly know
Locate a stray dog that has nowhere to go
Then back to her place for a hot meal and drink
And draw him close to her before he can blink
Most students will not exit her door
Sadly, that is when they usually bore
Others learn quickly and find their own place
Then Professor Higgins is back to the chase
A promise of wisdom for which they all yearn
She has little to teach them is what they all learn