Nellie Cake
Auteur de Proverbial Plate My Ass
Séries
Œuvres de Nellie Cake
Étiqueté
Partage des connaissances
- Autres noms
- Stamper, Mary N.
Membres
Critiques
"Memoirs From My Outhouse;" True stories of violence, murders, crimes, drugs, incest, alcoholism, drug addiction, inmates, stolen children, homelessness, narcissistic abuse, countless beatings and rapes, and nasty words. I have short term memory and can't tell you what I just watched on TV, but I detailed hundreds of beatings and rapes. I have half a lifetime of experience in these subjects, the other half sober from drugs and alcohol. I'm an Appalachian inbred Hillbilly and ain't nothing wrong with that.
People who write similar stories usually are not an inbred Hillbilly which makes my story unique. Names were changed to get family and people from the past to shut the hell up. Hillbillies do make moonshine, grow weed, carry double barrel shot guns, and stay bare-foot, but I'm not washing my over all's to impress city folk. We don't eat road kill lesson it's soft. I'm not blue and have no defects cept I'm humble with too much trusting Hillbilly empathy. I'm not a sympathy whore monger I have a legit message if you get it.
I was kidnapped, beat and raped at nine then witness the same man beat, rape and shoot my two nine year old card playing Hillbilly girl friends. I witness the brutal beating and murder of an elderly man. Four of my children were stolen like I'm a baby factory, the fifth became an armed bank robber with her boyfriend, Jesse James. My first husband was a wounded vet. His arm was shot off in Vietnam. He beat me with his hook a lot, but that was mild compared to the other shocking things his friends and him did to me.
My second husband was a wannabe Clint Eastwood carrying an arson, beating on me, shooting towards me, and hunting me like an animal. Many pregnancies I lived in the snow then many years hitching in snow hunting for my babies. Drug dealing and exotic strip dancing were a way to survive in the wake of being annihilated by spouses. I dated my home confinement officer and was honored with a Governor's pardon.
My stomach exploded which took over a year and a half to walk. Lucifer threw a 16,000 pound building on me causing gangrene and many surgeries and procedures which took over a year and a half to walk. I had the worse case of M.R.S.A. in history which took over a year and a half to walk. I maintained employments and continued writing through destitution, pregnancies, savagery, prisons, and Northern winters. This is only a few things Lucifer did to me.
Life's accomplishments: I won six turkeys, nine trophies battling cocks, birthed five kids, won ten cakes, and caught nine ten pound Bass. I possess gloating rights to angling stories and jaded memories. I want a place for authors of any genre and victims of any crime to have a voice without family or people judging, preaching, bossing, threatening, interfering or alienating me.
I understand they are Holier than me, but they make authors of my genre feel we're a bad image or influence on their precious perfect family and life. Every story I write is true. God is real, but He can not physically stop wars, rapist, abusers, murders nor narcissist. I can't compete with Syria, Mexico or third world countries tragedies, but my story is horrifying and will shock you over and over. It's the saddest story in today's world.… (plus d'informations)
People who write similar stories usually are not an inbred Hillbilly which makes my story unique. Names were changed to get family and people from the past to shut the hell up. Hillbillies do make moonshine, grow weed, carry double barrel shot guns, and stay bare-foot, but I'm not washing my over all's to impress city folk. We don't eat road kill lesson it's soft. I'm not blue and have no defects cept I'm humble with too much trusting Hillbilly empathy. I'm not a sympathy whore monger I have a legit message if you get it.
I was kidnapped, beat and raped at nine then witness the same man beat, rape and shoot my two nine year old card playing Hillbilly girl friends. I witness the brutal beating and murder of an elderly man. Four of my children were stolen like I'm a baby factory, the fifth became an armed bank robber with her boyfriend, Jesse James. My first husband was a wounded vet. His arm was shot off in Vietnam. He beat me with his hook a lot, but that was mild compared to the other shocking things his friends and him did to me.
My second husband was a wannabe Clint Eastwood carrying an arson, beating on me, shooting towards me, and hunting me like an animal. Many pregnancies I lived in the snow then many years hitching in snow hunting for my babies. Drug dealing and exotic strip dancing were a way to survive in the wake of being annihilated by spouses. I dated my home confinement officer and was honored with a Governor's pardon.
My stomach exploded which took over a year and a half to walk. Lucifer threw a 16,000 pound building on me causing gangrene and many surgeries and procedures which took over a year and a half to walk. I had the worse case of M.R.S.A. in history which took over a year and a half to walk. I maintained employments and continued writing through destitution, pregnancies, savagery, prisons, and Northern winters. This is only a few things Lucifer did to me.
Life's accomplishments: I won six turkeys, nine trophies battling cocks, birthed five kids, won ten cakes, and caught nine ten pound Bass. I possess gloating rights to angling stories and jaded memories. I want a place for authors of any genre and victims of any crime to have a voice without family or people judging, preaching, bossing, threatening, interfering or alienating me.
I understand they are Holier than me, but they make authors of my genre feel we're a bad image or influence on their precious perfect family and life. Every story I write is true. God is real, but He can not physically stop wars, rapist, abusers, murders nor narcissist. I can't compete with Syria, Mexico or third world countries tragedies, but my story is horrifying and will shock you over and over. It's the saddest story in today's world.… (plus d'informations)
"Memoirs From My Outhouse;" True stories of violence, murders, crimes, drugs, incest, alcoholism, drug addiction, inmates, stolen children, homelessness, narcissistic abuse, countless beatings and rapes, and nasty words. I have short term memory and can't tell you what I just watched on TV, but I detailed hundreds of beatings and rapes. I have half a lifetime of experience in these subjects, the other half sober from drugs and alcohol. I'm an Appalachian inbred Hillbilly and ain't nothing wrong with that.
People who write similar stories usually are not an inbred Hillbilly which makes my story unique. Names were changed to get family and people from the past to shut the hell up. Hillbillies do make moonshine, grow weed, carry double barrel shot guns, and stay bare-foot, but I'm not washing my over all's to impress city folk. We don't eat road kill lesson it's soft. I'm not blue and have no defects except I'm humble with too much trusting Hillbilly empathy. I'm not a sympathy whore monger I have a legit message if you get it.
I was kidnapped, beat and raped at nine then witness the same man beat, rape and shoot my two nine year old card playing Hillbilly girl friends. I witness the brutal beating and murder of an elderly man. Four of my children were stolen like I'm a baby factory, the fifth became an armed bank robber with her boyfriend, Jesse James. My first husband was a wounded vet. His arm was shot off in Vietnam. He beat me with his hook a lot, but that was mild compared to the other shocking things his friends and him did to me.
My second husband was a wannabe Clint Eastwood carrying an arson, beating on me, shooting towards me, and hunting me like an animal. Many pregnancies I lived in the snow then many years hitching in snow hunting for my babies. Drug dealing and exotic strip dancing were a way to survive in the wake of being annihilated by spouses. I dated my home confinement officer and was honored with a Governor's pardon. My stomach exploded which took over a year and a half to walk.
Lucifer threw a 16,000 pound building on me causing gangrene and many surgeries and procedures which took over a year and a half to walk. I had the worse case of M.R.S.A. in history which took over a year and a half to walk. I maintained employments and continued writing through destitution, pregnancies, savagery, prisons, and Northern winters. This is only a few things Lucifer did to me. Life's accomplishments: I won six turkeys, nine trophies battling cocks, birthed five kids, won ten cakes, and caught nine ten pound Bass.
I possess gloating rights to angling stories and jaded memories. I want a place for authors of any genre and victims of any crime to have a voice without family or people judging, preaching, bossing, threatening, interfering or alienating me. I understand they are Holier than me, but they make authors of my genre feel we're a bad image or influence on their precious perfect family and life. Every story I write is true. God is real, but He can not physically stop wars, rapist, abusers, murders nor narcissist.
I can't compete with Syria, Mexico or third world countries tragedies, but my story is horrifying and will shock you over and over. It's the saddest story in today's world.… (plus d'informations)
People who write similar stories usually are not an inbred Hillbilly which makes my story unique. Names were changed to get family and people from the past to shut the hell up. Hillbillies do make moonshine, grow weed, carry double barrel shot guns, and stay bare-foot, but I'm not washing my over all's to impress city folk. We don't eat road kill lesson it's soft. I'm not blue and have no defects except I'm humble with too much trusting Hillbilly empathy. I'm not a sympathy whore monger I have a legit message if you get it.
I was kidnapped, beat and raped at nine then witness the same man beat, rape and shoot my two nine year old card playing Hillbilly girl friends. I witness the brutal beating and murder of an elderly man. Four of my children were stolen like I'm a baby factory, the fifth became an armed bank robber with her boyfriend, Jesse James. My first husband was a wounded vet. His arm was shot off in Vietnam. He beat me with his hook a lot, but that was mild compared to the other shocking things his friends and him did to me.
My second husband was a wannabe Clint Eastwood carrying an arson, beating on me, shooting towards me, and hunting me like an animal. Many pregnancies I lived in the snow then many years hitching in snow hunting for my babies. Drug dealing and exotic strip dancing were a way to survive in the wake of being annihilated by spouses. I dated my home confinement officer and was honored with a Governor's pardon. My stomach exploded which took over a year and a half to walk.
Lucifer threw a 16,000 pound building on me causing gangrene and many surgeries and procedures which took over a year and a half to walk. I had the worse case of M.R.S.A. in history which took over a year and a half to walk. I maintained employments and continued writing through destitution, pregnancies, savagery, prisons, and Northern winters. This is only a few things Lucifer did to me. Life's accomplishments: I won six turkeys, nine trophies battling cocks, birthed five kids, won ten cakes, and caught nine ten pound Bass.
I possess gloating rights to angling stories and jaded memories. I want a place for authors of any genre and victims of any crime to have a voice without family or people judging, preaching, bossing, threatening, interfering or alienating me. I understand they are Holier than me, but they make authors of my genre feel we're a bad image or influence on their precious perfect family and life. Every story I write is true. God is real, but He can not physically stop wars, rapist, abusers, murders nor narcissist.
I can't compete with Syria, Mexico or third world countries tragedies, but my story is horrifying and will shock you over and over. It's the saddest story in today's world.… (plus d'informations)
Last Call: Many who drink does not know the extreme damage that drugs and alcohol causes. I have watched friends and acquaintances literally exploded from extended use of alcohol and drugs, including me. My experience took me into a nine month coma when my stomach exploded and two of my children were stolen while in the coma. You may dream of walking on Waterford crystal and being like an Eagle swooping down grabbing all the dealers drugs while on drugs and alcohol. But i'll never walk on Waterford crystal . I was an alcoholic drug addict for most of my life, but I quit in an instant on a New Year's Eve night, one minute till midnight.… (plus d'informations)
Statistiques
- Œuvres
- 18
- Membres
- 19
- Popularité
- #609,294
- Évaluation
- 5.0
- Critiques
- 18
People who write similar stories usually are not an inbred Hillbilly which makes my story unique. Names were changed to get family and people from the past to shut the hell up. Hillbillies do make moonshine, grow weed, carry double barrel shot guns, and stay bare-foot, but I'm not washing my over all's to impress city folk. We don't eat road kill lesson it's soft. I'm not blue and have no defects cept I'm humble with too much trusting Hillbilly empathy. I'm not a sympathy whore monger I have a legit message if you get it.
I was kidnapped, beat and raped at nine then witness the same man beat, rape and shoot my two nine year old card playing Hillbilly girl friends. I witness the brutal beating and murder of an elderly man. Four of my children were stolen like I'm a baby factory, the fifth became an armed bank robber with her boyfriend, Jesse James. My first husband was a wounded vet. His arm was shot off in Vietnam. He beat me with his hook a lot, but that was mild compared to the other shocking things his friends and him did to me.
My second husband was a wannabe Clint Eastwood carrying an arson, beating on me, shooting towards me, and hunting me like an animal. Many pregnancies I lived in the snow then many years hitching in snow hunting for my babies. Drug dealing and exotic strip dancing were a way to survive in the wake of being annihilated by spouses. I dated my home confinement officer and was honored with a Governor's pardon.
My stomach exploded which took over a year and a half to walk. Lucifer threw a 16,000 pound building on me causing gangrene and many surgeries and procedures which took over a year and a half to walk. I had the worse case of M.R.S.A. in history which took over a year and a half to walk. I maintained employments and continued writing through destitution, pregnancies, savagery, prisons, and Northern winters. This is only a few things Lucifer did to me.
Life's accomplishments: I won six turkeys, nine trophies battling cocks, birthed five kids, won ten cakes, and caught nine ten pound Bass. I possess gloating rights to angling stories and jaded memories. I want a place for authors of any genre and victims of any crime to have a voice without family or people judging, preaching, bossing, threatening, interfering or alienating me.
I understand they are Holier than me, but they make authors of my genre feel we're a bad image or influence on their precious perfect family and life. Every story I write is true. God is real, but He can not physically stop wars, rapist, abusers, murders nor narcissist. I can't compete with Syria, Mexico or third world countries tragedies, but my story is horrifying and will shock you over and over. It's the saddest story in today's world.… (plus d'informations)