A man I loved once reminded me, "Men prefer blondes, but they marry brunettes".
Yesterday, after 68 years of fence sitting, two-timing Lothario, Archie Andrews did just that. That limp-dicked redhead kicked Betty to the curb and proposed to heiress Veronica Lodge. A brunette.
Personally, I always thought Archie was a bit of a mama's boy, but pickins were slim in Riverdale. I probably would have slept with Reggie Mantle, got burned, and left town for New York City long ago. I'd roll into town years later, having made a fortune in real estate. I'd be looking fabulous, and skinny, and I'd sleep with pussy-whipped Archie just out of spite.
Poor Betty. Maybe she'll become a lesbian and start a dog walking business with Big Ethel.
Maybe she'll screw Moose and become a bloated alcoholic. She's well past her perky prime. Not even pervy Pop Tate will want her now.
We poor blondes have it rough. My life would have been so different if I were a wealthy brunette. I would have nice kitchen countertops and trips to Tuscany and I'd be married to an asshole like Archie and ew, wait a minute... my kids would have red hair!
Never mind. I'm calling Jughead before Betty does. I hear his nickname has nothing to do with his IQ.
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