“That,” Nana replied, appearing out of nowhere. “…Was a beast with no name.”
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Even beneath the immovable rocks of rock bottom, Pansy couldn’t behave like a regular old front desk girl. She was, the one and only, Front Desk Woman.
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“Damnit, I got ma’amed again. That’s the seventh time today,” Gertha said, pushing her breasts up as high as possible. “I don’t get ma’amed nearly as much with cleavage.”
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That was the main reason she continued to swallow the fiery, clear liquor all day and all night. To dream again of a savior, just like she had when she was very small. But this time, he was not a knight or prince or quarterback. She was now old enough to know that those types left pee on toilet seats and left streaks in their underwear just like the rest of them. Now, her drunken dreams conjured up her Financial Independence Fairygod Mother.
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She winced at the not-yet-healed stitch pulling at her ripped vagina, but there was zero pity within him. He only seemed to relish in it. He looked satisfied – like a man who’d won something immensely important. A marathon maybe, or the Powerball.
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