Murphy tries to play fucking coy with me, but I ain't in the mood. "That address you gave me was to a staffing agency."

"I thought you didn't like it here. Oh, did you think the address was mine?"

"Well," I redden, "yeah."

"Awkward. Did you at least go inside the office and talk to someone?"

"Did I go inside the staffing agency at 2 am, uh, I'm thinking no. They were closed. So here I am downtown with this fat fucking chubby pushed up against the glass door and no Murphy. Besides, I have a job."

"You should have a career, not a job."

Go figure. After all that, the job shit is what she takes from it. I fold my arms rather defensive. Where the fuck does she get off? I mean, some kind of encouragement really wouldn't be the worst thing right now. "Maybe I'm happy here." Ok, I'm lying.

"You're a bad liar, too."

"I started towards being a coach. Just never finished."

"Women's softball?"

"Huh?"

"That's what you wanted to coach, right?"

I start laughing because she's mocking me from when I tried to ask if she was a nurse. "I wanted to coach kids."

"Guess I should start looking for another place to drink my soda."

"Well, I didn't say I'd fucking do it."

"Probably shouldn't curse around the children."

"Fuck you," I laugh.

"Keep the change."

"Well, wait." Fuck. Just do it, Negan. Quit being such a pussy. "What are you doing after this?"

"Take a nice long warm bath."

"Can I join you?"

"I don't think you'll fit in my tub."

"I could try."

"Why don't you try working towards being a coach, then we'll talk." She tips me almost fifty dollars tonight.

"Neeegan..."

I put my hand out to quiet Gary Boozy so I can watch this ass in peace. I've already got my bachelor's degree. Did my internship. The only thing that was left was to become certified. Maybe she could help me study. Heh. A little one on one.

"Neeegan..."

"Calm the fuck down, and don't think you're going to weasel your way fucking out this time without paying me. Little prick."

Gary Boozy pukes all over the bar.

Maybe I'll look into this coaching shit after all…


I am lost as a motherfucker on these back roads. Fuck, I can't read a map worth a fuck. There is nothing out this way. I'm starting to think I should turn around. I pull over on the side of the road and kill my bike. Maybe this is a sign I shouldn't be coaching. I can't even find the goddamn place to get my books. When I hear a bicycle bell, I look over my shoulder.

Murphy pulls up beside me. "Are you stalking me?"

The last thing I'm about to admit is that I'm lost, let alone to some hot fucking girl. "I ran out of gas. Wait, you live down here?" Ok, if this ain't a sign, I don't know what fucking is.

"Yeah, it's easier to hide the bodies of the men I bring home when you live out in the middle of nowhere."

"That explains your," I bring my fingers up in quotations, "garden."

"I'd ask you back but, frankly, I'm way too exhausted to dig a hole your size. Though I guess I could always chop you up. You know, piece by piece."

"If you're trying to run me off, it's not going to happen. You'd be surprised what I'd do for pussy." Speaking of bush, I notice a small dead rose bush in her basket. "Don't most people usually buy roses that are alive?"

"I find plants and flowers that are about to die then try to bring them back to life."

"You just go around and steal people's plants and shit?"

"Most of the time they want to pay me for digging the thing up. I'm excited to plant this one, it will be beautiful once it starts to bloom." There's almost a sadness to her smile. "Which one is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you stalking me or are you lost?"

"I told you I ran out of gas."

Her eyes focus in on my gas gauge before she starts to peddle. "Have a good night."

Fuck! "Wait," I call after her.

"The having a good night part implied we're done seeing each other."

"Figured maybe you'd want some help with your bush." Now I'm a funny motherfucker. But she doesn't even crack a smile. Instead, it's almost like she's sizing me up.

"I could use a good scarecrow."

This woman… "How much farther?"

"I'm tired."

"Keep coming up with excuses, Murphy. I've been shot down every way you can think of. I'm a very persistent fuck."

"Yes, it's rather annoying."

"Your place far from here or what?"

She points across the street to a blue gate. "Please leave that contraption at my gate."

Murphy isn't too far off the main road that leads downtown but it still seems like she lives in another world. Past that gate, it's unlike anything I've ever seen. She has a small yard and she really isn't kidding about her garden. There are all kinds of flowers. In the center of it all sits her small white camper complete with one pink stripe going down the middle of it. Once you actually get up to the camper, rocks surround it. Her porch has a nice small table and two person bench. Fountains, candles, and little knick-knacks. Ivy, strung lights, and a white sheet drape over the two person bench.

I'm certain my head is going to hit the ceiling but I'm in the clear. Barely. Her camper smells fresh as fuck. Holy shit, I'm hesitant to sit on anything with my dirty ass jeans with all this white furniture. Murphy has very eclectic taste in decorating. Like a classy as shit taste. If it ain't white, it's not in this camper which actually helped brighten the place up and made it seemed bigger. I have a seat on her couch as she disappears behind a sheer curtain. I'm assuming her room. Hopefully, when she comes back, she's naked. Except I'm not that lucky. "Why's there a goddamn claw foot bathtub in the living room?"

"It doesn't fit in the bathroom."

"Yeah, that makes sense. Not really, but ok." I feel something touch my leg and almost jump up from the couch. "The fuck?!"

"Oh, that's Walter."

"Walter? It's a fucking chicken."

"A Cornish Cross to be exact. I saved him from being slaughtered."

"You one of those activists?"

"No. Walter owed me money from a card game. When he couldn't pay up he became my servant. Can he get you anything while he's up?"

I don't even know why I'm laughing because part of me thinks she's telling the truth.

"This is normally my yoga time, which you're interrupting."

"Well, fuck, don't let me stop you. You got a TV or…" My eyes skim her camper. "Or… uh."

"There are books next to you."

Fuck that reminds me. I need to get those goddamn books still- oh my god. She is limber as fuck! Goddamn, I love yoga! I bring my boot up and sling it over my other knee in an effort to hide what's stirring in my pants.

"You shouldn't sit like that. It's not good for your spine."

"Everyone sits like this."

"Have you ever heard the old adage, if everyone jumped off a bridge would you?"

"I thought you had to be quiet when you did yoga?"

"Suit yourself."

Suit myself? I'm in fucking heaven. This is like some kind of refined peep show. Maybe I should put my tongue back in my mouth. "Ew! The fuck?" I brush my arm off. "This chicken fried fuck just breathed on me."

"Then breathe on him back."

"Look, I am hungry. Do you wanna go to that place around the corner with the Philly cheesesteaks?"

"I don't eat meat."

Damn, I hope that doesn't include tube steak. "I'll eat your meat." I slam my eyes shut. "That's not what I meant."

"I can cook for us."

This outta be interesting. If she doesn't eat meat, I can only imagine what kind of fresh hell I'm in store for. I give Murphy a double take. What she should have said is, I'm going to burn the camper down. This girl could burn water.

"Hmm, just scrape off the burnt part."

"That's all there is," I laugh.

"Fine, let's go eat your meat."

Now I've seen some shit but she actually gets a leash for Colonel Sanders. "That thing ain't going to stare at me while I eat and make me feel guilty is it?"

"I thought a cheesesteak was made with beef?"

"It is."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Murphy, you've got a strange way of looking at things."

"Where are your shoes?"

My shoe- Oh, what the fuck? Now I've goddamn seen everything. This fucking thing has shoes. "Any more accessories you'd like to get the Colonel before we leave?"

"Do you want to walk a mile on the scorching pavement in your bare feet?"

I might just to show her how fucking stupid this whole thing is. This is turning into the strangest night ever, and that says a lot. "Now I know why you bury all those men in your garden. It's the only way you can get them to stick around."

"Does this mean you're going to bail on me? Thank god. I was starting to think I was going to have to suffer through dinner with you."

"Fuck you," I laugh.

"Well," she sighs, "we tried, Walter. So. Megan. What do you normally do on your evenings off?"

"Jerk off to porn that I splice illegally from the neighbor."

"What kind of porn do you like?"

"Girl on girl… on girl. Foot fetish porn. You?"

"I just think about the butcher at the pick-n-save."

I knew I shouldn't have asked. Looks like I'll be taking a trip to the pick-n-save to see my competition. "Wanna make out? You'll forget that butcher real quick."

"I just lit my cigarette."

"What cigarette? Murphy, sometimes I think you don't grasp the concept of sarcasm."

"And sometimes I don't think you grasp the concept of when a woman just isn't interested. Oh, look, we're here. Finally…"

"Guess since this ain't a date, you can pay for yourself," I snicker and order my food.

"Hey, Murph," the guy in the window greets.

Another guy comes to the window. "Is it The Murph?"

"Ladies," she greets them.

"The usual, Murph?"

"Yeah, but," Murphy glances at me for a minute, "a lot of onions."

"That ain't gonna fucking deter me."

"God, I wish something would." She takes Walter over to one of the benches.

Despite my earlier comment, I pay for the both of us before joining her. "How do all these guys know you?"

"They're some of my clients."

"Shut the fuck up," I laugh.

"I eat here every night. They always take good care of me because I take care of them."

Murphy isn't shitting me because I'm brought the biggest fucking sandwich I have ever seen. The cheese was dripping off it. Double fuck me fries. I'm curious to see what her usual is, but it ends up being some grilled sandwich with… "Peanut butter and pickles?!"

"What? There are pickles on here? I said onions!" Murphy snickers before taking a huge bite.

"You're making me sick eating that shit."

"I see my plan to avoid making out worked."

I stare blankly at her.

"Negan, you're way too serious. You need to lighten up. Serious is boring. Serious has never led to boning in the history of anything, ever. Funny bones all day and night."

"Boning?"

"Mhmm. Besides. You're the one I should be worried about. Garlic fries, and peppers and onions." Murphy pulls the crust off her sandwich and feeds it to Walter.

You know, she's kind of right. I've been stuck in this rut for so many years, I forgot how to laugh. Before she came along, I really don't even remember the last time I joked with someone. It made me sorta appreciate this woman in a way. She's good for me, and god only fucking knows I need that in my life.

"Do you ever stop and think about how one day someone is going to say your name for the last time?"

"No. I can honestly say, out of everything that has crossed my mind, that's not fucking one of them. Are you ok? You look kinda-" Before I can finish my sentence, Murphy almost hits the pavement but I get to her just in time. "Murphy?" I gently tap her cheek a bit.

"Home," she murmurs.

I hoist her up in my arms before tugging on this things leash. "Come on, Wilson."

"Walter."

Whatever, it's a goddamn chicken. The fucker should be happy we didn't just put him on the grill. "Taxi," I holler, trying to juggle everything.

Once I've been to a place, I have a pretty eidetic memory, and we make it back to her camper. I set her gently on the bed. "Wallace, come here."

"Walter," her faint voice corrects me.

This thing is like on steroids are some shit. Even trying to snatch the leash is damn near impossible and after a broken lamp and a bruised elbow, this thing runs under the bed. "Gotcha! Fuck," I yell when his giant claws dig into my forearms before it hurries off to the living room. Oh, for fuck's sake. "Haha, bitch," I laugh when the leash just barely hooks my index finger. It goes insane, flapping its wings. As soon as I pass him off to Murphy, he's completely tranquil. Of all the fucking... unbelievable.

"Lay down," Murphy tells him.

This cocksucker's coop is nicer than my apartment. Murphy built a swing beside the coop and the coop even has its own chandelier. I have a seat on her bed, feeling her forehead.

"Thank you."

"What can I do for you? Root beer?" When she nods, I go to check out her small fridge. This woman has more root beer than food. I don't understand why she comes to the bar if she could just be at home. There's a straw that I get for her so it's easier to drink before holding the can to help her.

"My life force," she smiles.

"Fucking dork," I laugh, but the truth is, I'm fucking rattled. Now, I'm a special kind of person. I don't rattle easy but her words to me before she practically hit the pavement bothers me.

"Will you water my plant near the couch before you leave for the night?"

Guess that means I'm not sleeping over.


I figured Murphy would show up to the bar that night but she didn't which only made my time here even more miserable. When I finally close the bar, I start for her camper. Walter is at her gate... I guess clucking? Whatever the fuck a chicken does when it's trying to get your attention. He waddles after me as I haul ass to her camper door. It's open and she's collapsed in the entryway. "Murphy?!" She has a pulse but she's unresponsive. Her skin is pale and clammy. "Murphy, can you hear me?"

Walter starts pecking at her hair.

"Stop that!"

He sasses me back before he continues.

"Make yourself useful! What the fuck do we do?" CPR is pointless, fuck I don't know!

Walter comes back with his leash in his beak.

"Yeah… yeah, good idea, you feathered fuck." I scoop Murphy up in my arms. Walter follows after me to the end of the gate. He's pretty fast. We make it to the end of the road and I wave down a taxi.

"No pets, man. Read the fucking sign."

"Fuck your sign! Get me to the hospital, now, or it's going up your ass." I'm getting fed up with how long this is taking. What if she fucking dies? Fuck this! I open the door once we're caught at a red light and run all the way to the hospital. "Help," I scream. "Help, she's not breathing!"