Like stains on my water glass
How many times have I said that if I could just put on some poisonous lipstick and give a lethal kiss to the guy who is threatening to tell my fiancé that the baby I am carrying is not his if I don’t go to Vegas with him and marry him so that he can carry on with his evil plans, using my baby as his minion, carrying out his drawn out and tedious vendetta against my family, everything would be okay? How many? So many.
It isn’t going to work, Sami Brady, not now, not ever. The guy is a total Stain, and you know he is going to outsmart you again. That vendetta against the Brady Family, however vague and confusing, will keep his will alive to fight you to the end.
Every time, you people of Salem hatch plots to cover up the little white lies that turn into big tangly secrets and before you know it, you’re sitting in a wheelchair recovering from a face transplant trying to figure out how to kidnap your own daughter from her biological parents, one of whom is both your cousin and your uncle. When will the madness end? Does some innocent person have to die from a poisonous cherry red lipstick kiss for you all to see the madness you have created? I certainly hope so. Because that’s entertainment.