Rosanne was not raised by a mother, but hatched by a whore who then permitted her johns to rape her and her sisters. Her sisters have all married abusive losers like those johns that her mother serviced. But Rosanne married Ed, a good working man who got her into a perfect suburban house and they had a family together.

Then came the opiate epidemic in its most virulent form after the 2015 Baltimore Riots in which every pharmacy in town was surgically hit. Baltimore is now the opiate capital of America—possibly the Federal Government’s most successful domestic initiative to date, since the heroin shipped over from Afghanistan has converged with the big pharma opiate supply to bloom into a giant lotus blossom spreading paleface suicide like invisible clouds of ennui spores.

Across the street from Rosanne and her extended family lives Skankus Maximus, a heroin addict who has men of the ebony master race forever coming and going in the drug den she occupied with her three year old daughter. At all hours of the night and day the Skank could be heard beating, slapping and screaming at her daughter, calling her words such as “cunt” and “whore.”

Rosanne, family members and neighbors, repeatedly called Baltimore County Child Protective Services, yet the state employees continued to insist that they could do nothing until neighbors saw the child being beaten out of doors. The sounds of beatings and hysterical sobbing permeating the air day and night were not enough.

Eventually the federal government took care of things in its indirect way, as Skankus Maximus overdosed on opiates and her stiff corpse was wheeled out of the house behind her bruised and battered toddler—whose life holds no uncertainty. Children consigned to the State for rearing are well known to take the darkest adult roads available after the System regurgitates them.