Wedding day tantrums aside, Rob Kardashian has to toe the company line. He might be appalled at the shrieking cash vacuuming succubi he calls family, but his designer argyle sock line isn’t going to keep him rolling in Mercedes SUV clover. He’s shit out of luck. His family business is whoring and fat man whores don’t get paid. Rob hit the gym in Beverly Hills to ensure that every local paparazzi would catch him working out and and report on it. When he got home, Kris Jenner patted him on the head and handed him a cookie she snatched away just as he reached for it. Fail. Kris kicked her son in the nuggets and had him locked in the sub-basement next to the Arab sheik who thought he could fondle Kendall and pay with an out of state check. If Rob doesn’t fix himself up soon, Kris will order him onto the same amphetamine and semen diet regimen that got Kim into her junior prom dress.
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