Chapter 11:
What a beautiful Southern belle name. Even if I was expectin' somethin' different. She looks like she's about to grab the bag and shut the door back in my face.
I know her type. The shy leavers. So I attempt to keep the conversation movin'.
"How are you, Alice?" I ask, leaning on my good leg for support.
"I'm fine," she answers. "How are you doin'?"
Such an easy question, but my Pa was a no-good-lying-son-of-a-gun, and years of him parading fast little trollies in my face hasn't changed my ways.
I wanna answer 'I'm fine.'
I wanna say 'My back hurts, but I'm pulling through.'
I wanna tell her how the kitty pissing on her bunions are starting to tear up my nostrils.
Instead, the words rush out faster than I can stop them.
"How ya doin?" she repeats.
"Anyone I can and the easy ones twice," I rush out.
Awww, dognabbit….