M Appoline Pitler beat Ron and Parvati with a two by four, while she wore her death eaters robes. Then she ran up to the heir apparent of England, the queen's heir. The spare was an incarnation of HenryVIII. His red hair, and same eye color as Henry came from both parents. As both parents were descended from both of Henry's uncles, and the lineage from both uncles intermarried. Except one uncle had all female descendents who married the Scottish king. And from that uncle came the mixed the Stuart Tudor royal family thwt had two male descends in the 20th century. Henry's other uncle, the dukeof Richmond, had female descendents who mairried commoners. The duke of Richmond passed away before Henry could make him his heir, after Henry's last son perished. The spare and heirs mother descended from that heir.

The heir apparent was a female, with am infant son who was ahead of the spare in the modern line of succession. The spare was a ginger like Ron who was traumatized by being born a spare and emotionally abused. He was like the royal version of a squib. His wife looked like a reincarnation of Anne Boleyn, but she was better then the rest of his stuffy family.

Appoline tmwore her skimpy sht, and then batted her eyelashes erotically. The spare leaned back in bed and breathed 1%ly, rivulets of aweat5 running down his chest. He was from the Most Newborn and Royal House of Stuart-Tudor.

"I've never met a non marginialized, non millenial, 100% boomer karen like you, Appoline," huffed the spare. "You are England's most amazing gold digger. Perhaps my prayer for a 6th of of own that results not taxing royals has been answered."

Appoline got up and lifted an eyebrow archly, one corner of her mouth turning up in a nympish-smile. The room had furniture and chairs in it. The chairs had legs.

"A poem, Mr. Spare to remember commemorate this moment?"

"Ah a pure soul's poetry..." said the . "It's like words to my ear." He lifted a drink. "Speak on."

Appoline cast her eyes to the ceiling and slowly lifted her arms, like a noble angel spreading its wings and taking fight into a world of fanciful love poems.
"Rose's are Red
Violets are Blue
This Post-Coital Poem
Was written for you.
I'm sugaring inside and out they say
I'm the first karen of the Boomers
That makes me worse than a Chad.
The other commoners are haters
And they're just jealous I'm a 1%er
I'm like an Angelic Karen
I stopped try to make this
Make sense as a poem because I got bored after
Like two seconds but I think you get the
Jizz I mean gist of it."

The spare sat up and clapped in bed.

"Very good, Appoline, very good!" He heard Appoline's victims knocking on a wall, nearby. "But what does 1%er mean?"

更新plsssss很有趣的文，期待后续！

很有趣！！期待后续！ad：拿我过去给你们垫是吧？hhhh