I knew this broad was trouble the first time she stepped into the Barfing Beagle. She wore bad-girl blue jeans and a street-slut halter. On one arm, she cradled a Denebian Antimatter rifle, a real Conversation stopper. Her free hand held a cell phone to her ear. The fairer sex seldom patronized this bar.
"Which of those ass-kissing-weasels screwed the pooch this time?" she asked. A coy smile covered her face and her green eyes met the rheumy, bloodshot gaze of the patrons. She shook her flaming red hair and pulled her shoulders back making her puppies wink. She snapped the cellphone shut. Bartleby the Beagle lifted his head and belched. That's as close as he gets to barfing anymore.
"Which one of you dickless drunkards wants to help me find my Buttercup and Bluebell?" Pouty red lips announced. Tata Murphy fell off his barstool. Buzz Gaspar's false teeth landed in that rotgut he calls bourbon. Tiny Winterhalter spit his beer all over Benny Tillman. Petey Whitehorse grasped his heart and dropped out of sight behind the bar. Sten 'Bitch Face' McCackle vomited blood. The geeks in the compu-booths spewed coffee all over their keyboards.
"Come on, ass-faced motherhumpers. Anyone got the balls to step up?" Luscious, moist lips curled into a pout, which opened as the lady spit a chunk of chew onto the floor.
Father McClosky said, "Lady, I think they're in your bra."
She disintegrated him, then dropped a hand from the rifle and adjusted her balls. "Pussies." As she turned on a spiked heel and swayed her hips to the door, I realized: I've gotta start being less generous with the term 'fairer sex'.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuaton: Lynn/Khazar-khum