If You Want a Taste of Freedom, Dress the Part
Every July 4th, Miss Dizzum hosts the most patriotic breakfast west of the Mississippi and twice as depraved. There’s only one rule: no powdered wig, no pancakes. This year, the men complied in full. Hamilton cosplayers. Franklin bros. One guy even showed up in full colonial breeches with a quill behind his ear, asking if she needed help “drafting a new declaration.” She laughed, slapped his butt with a spatula, and told him to butter the sausage. The pancakes were stacked higher than national debt, loaded with fruit and fireworks. And Dizzum? She served it all in a starry robe with nothing underneath but the fire of independence.
The Party Where History Got Hot and Bothered
By midday, the lawn was lined with flags, the scent of meat thick in the air, and Miss Dizzum had changed into her flirtiest battle gear-a stars-and-stripes tee so snug it left little to the imagination, unless your imagination was already filled with ketchup. She sat at the center of the feast like a patriotic Venus, surrounded by heaving plates of cheeseburgers and hot dogs standing tall in their buns.
Men tried to impress her with feats of strength: lifting lawn chairs over their heads, deep-throating dogs in a single go, reciting Independence Day speeches shirtless. One brought her a milkshake and whispered, “I churned it myself.” She laughed so hard she shot whipped cream out her nose. There was flirting, flag-waving, and a suspicious amount of fireworks going off at 1:30 p.m.-but Miss Dizzum didn’t mind. She was already halfway through her third glizzy and halfway into seducing the entire block with nothing more than a wink and a wiener.
That Time George Washington Tried to Haunt Her… Sexually
Then it happened. Around midnight, as “Born to Be Wild” played on kazoo and someone deep-fried a bald eagle shaped turkey, the lights flickered. Smoke rolled in. The air turned thick with colonial musk. The Founding Fathers appeared-not actors this time, but full-on apparitions. Ghost Jefferson was shirtless. Franklin asked if he could “invent electricity” between her thighs. And George? Oh, George. He removed his wooden teeth and whispered, “I cannot tell a lie… I died a virgin… but I don’t want to stay that way.” Miss Dizzum smirked, turned up the heat on the grill, and told him, “You’ve got one night, soldier. Make it revolutionary.”
Want more of Miss Dizzum?