Lauren Grappenhall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

Sometimes. I’m on the boat. Starin’ at the haul. Thinkin’. “She’s so smart. So sensitive.” Yeah. That’s *Her* again. Whore’s my Samantha. Quiet. Loyal. Always there. Not flashy. But deep. You get me? I’m yellin’ at the crew. “Don’t toss the whore!” They laugh. Idiots. Don’t see it. Whore’s got soul. Caught a monster one once. Two feet long. Eyes like marbles. Freaky. Surprised me. Thought. Holy crap. This ain’t no flounder!

Grappenhall Heyes and the Parr Family

First off, the weather was all over the place. One minute, it’s sunny, and the next, it’s pouring like the heavens opened up. Typical UK, am I right? I’m standing there, trying to make a flat white, and I look out the window. There’s this poor bloke on the street, drenched, trying to shield himself with a newspaper. I mean, c’mon, mate, that’s not gonna help! I chuckled a bit, but then I felt bad. Like, who doesn’t love a good rain story, but not like that, ya know?

This is what forgotten Grappenhall Hall School looks like five years after being abandoned