the monica blechhhhh laugh in

Monica Bleach sat in a plush armchair crying into her handkerchief.
Across from her sat Ron Snodgrass her lawyer, chief litigant at Snodgrass, Snodgrass and Dick Associates.
"Oh Ron," she sobbed. "It's horrible. Those people on the internet. The things they say. Oh the humanity. Wahhh."
Ron Snodgrass smelt money.
He leaned across the table.
"That's good emotion there Monica," he told her. "Has this affected your family in any way?"
Monica nodded through her handkerchief.
"My son Smedley came in from school the other day," she sobbed. "He and his friends had been surfing the net. And, oh, oh. Oh, boo, hoo, hoo. Wahhhhhh."
"That's really good Monica," said her lawyer. "Now how did you cope with your son's distress?"
Monica paused to wipe her eyes.
"I gave him five hundred thousand dollars," she sighed. "And told him to run down to the shops and buy himself a Ferrari."
Ron Snodgrass lowered his head into his hands.
"You might want to keep that one out of your testimony in court," he advised gently.