I sat in Oregon Tavern Age country on a summer afternoon. Outside, a whipping wind blew the RVs to and fro as they motored somewhere or nowhere during the pandemic. Across the street from the joint, tourists packed a fudge shop. Gotta’ have fudge before you die!
Near me, a large man ordered a double Seven & Seven.
I sipped a beer and worked on a kink noir story about a hot flagger who blackmails married men. She was looking like Veronica Lake in my mind if you can ever imagine Veronica Lake directing traffic on a rural road wearing an orange vest and drinking coffee (with schnapps) from a Thermos.
In a booth not far away, an elderly couple told a story about their dog Dottie getting 86’d from another OTA joint because she took a dump under a stool.
But she didn’t do it! the couple protested. It was another dog, Tank, drunk after knocking over a can of Hamm’s and lapping up the spill. He was the turd culprit.
Someone played “Fat Bottomed Girls” on the jukebox. The big man ordered another double. Surely the fudge would run out soon. Gamblers lost money on the slots and it was all the Governor’s fault.
I was stuck on a point in the story about Veronica’s character. Would she use double negatives? I can’t really see Veronica with bad grammar. But it could be sexy and a dodge.