The Femme Fatale of Lake Derry

Having fled Pearl’s disturbing presence, Ralph was now sitting in a bar stool in Big Jimmy Badger’s Tavern and Grill (although the grill part had been inoperable since Jimmy died in 1988). The place had fallen into disrepair since Ralph had last visited many years ago.

Jimmy’s daughter and Fred Coomer’s mother Lorraine ran it now. She was tall, with legs like a flamingo Ralph’d once seen in the Birmingham zoo. Her torso was long too, and somewhat flat – not shaped by the gods of lust the way the Chief’s current wife’s was. She was an odd-looking woman with a strange, broad face.

Nonetheless, Lorraine Coomer bled sex.

It was the realest thing about her. Ralph figured it might have been Jimmy’s Cherokee blood in her, but he didn’t know. She constantly had an American Spirit clutched between her painted lips, and most men had a hard time not imagining what it’d be like if she had something else clutched there.

Lorraine looked at him.

“What is it?” She scowled. Ralph had never wanted anything more.

View this story's 3 comments.