Arrr! Kouri Richins be takin’ the stand fer makin’ her matey’s brew a tad too deadly! Avast, here be the tale!
2024-08-28
Arrr, matey! A Utah lass with three wee scallywags penned a tale for tiny tikes 'bout dealin' with sorrow after her landlubber man kicked the bucket. But shiver me timbers, the law be sayin’ she spiced his grog with a pinch o' poison! Aye, that’s one way to sail on!
Arrr, gather 'round me hearties and lend yer ears! In the land of Utah, where the mountains be tall and the valleys be deep, there lived a lass, a mother of three wee scallywags. This fair maiden, struck by a tempest of sorrow after her beloved buccaneer shuffled off this mortal coil, took quill in hand and penned a tale for the younglings, teachin’ 'em how to sail the stormy seas of grief.But hold yer horses, for this tale takes a treacherous turn! The land’s prosecutors, sharp as a cutlass, be claimin’ that our dear mother mixed a dastardly brew of a wicked potion—fentanyl, they call it—into the drink of her dearly departed. Aye, it seems this tale of sorrow be tangled in a web of deceit as thick as the fog on a dark and stormy night!
So, what be the moral of this tale, ye ask? Perhaps it be a warning to tread carefully when navigatin' the waters of love and loss, lest ye find yerself walkin' the plank! But fear not, for in the realm of the absurd, even the most tragic of tales can give rise to a hearty chuckle! Yarrr, let this be a lesson for all ye landlubbers: keep yer rum and yer hearts true, or ye might just end up in a right pickle!