...when she'd dead.
Honestly, some spelunking spunkbanks deserve everything they get!
First of all, the miserable old trout get some other bint drownded. Then she gets all uppity. Then she gets someone else deaded. Then she refuses to wear a dead chicks lyra outfit in case she gets another bird's flangebatter all over her minge. Then she gets stuck - ha! But the haggard ole trout refuses to be aqually corpsified. Funny how NO-ONE ELSE wants to go back and make sure she's OK.
But she gets out of the tight hole, and promptly has to be stripped all nudie and put under a blanket and be shagged into warmth by her boyfriend. All because she couldn't bear the touch of another womans quimjuice against her One Armed Bandit Fingering Slut Machine.
And then, THEN, she moans. And moans. And moans.
And not because she's being nobbed up the wrong'un beneath the bacofoil. Just general whiney whingeness!
And then, the dozy mare can't even be arsed to tie her hair back! So, inevitably, it gets stuck in the wheels. "Don't use yer knife - you'll cut your rope!"
So the silly sod uses her knife, promptly cuts her rope, and falls into the mælstrom, sucked off into the icy depths.
And good riddance too!
Only to resurface later, when her boyfriend nicked all the breathers to locate her body, for a spot of secretive necrophilia in the dark caverns!
Cave diving?
Maggoty muff diving, more like!
