Spider Princess


“A tin can isn’t a proper home for a spider princess,” Lenore muttered.  It was her third bourbon so the words sounded like “I’nt a propah hooome.”

“You referrin' to your single-wide?”  I was two barstools away, so there was what they call “artistic distance” between us.  Lenore tends to get vicious when she’s cranked.  Her red hair goes flying and her fists get pumpin’.  True fact.  I seen her take out a boyfriend who had a hundred pounds on her and was a foot taller.  That’s how she got the nickname Spider Princess — a good looker who eats her mates.

“Callin’ me trailer park trash?”  At that point she slid off the stool.  Stickley was working the door, so he carried her outside and dumped her in her Plymouth Voyager to recover.

So sad.  Lenore was a hoochie, but I kinda thought she was meant for me.  It’s all about inner goodness, which I know she possessed.  Just cause we never got a thing goin’ don’t mean I’m down on her.  We’ve known each other since fifth grade.

Half an hour later I finished my nightcap.  Work tomorrow — maybe, unless I called in sick.  It was already Thursday so the week was shot.  Shook my head, sittin’ there in my Mustang tryin’ to get my keys in the ignition.  That’s when I seen a guy in a leather jacket open Lenore’s door and mess around inside.  Minute later, the headlights came on and he spit gravel getting’ out of the lot.

“Shit!” I said to define the issue.  “He’s got Lenore!”  Puttin’ my ‘Stang in gear, I followed the Plymouth’s taillights.





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