Spiked Lemonade

I traded in my Navy uniform and short hair for tats and a scruffy beard to become a man on the run.  Moving from town to town, taking comfort in hot cars and fast women was the only way I could outrun the nightmares. Then I met her… Looking like a Southern Belle in a small Texas town, all layered in pretty dresses and perfume, I call her beautiful. She calls me a perv.   This beauty won’t admit I have something she wants (wink, wink, nudge, nudge), or that I’m the one she’s looking for, but I love that she has something I never knew I needed.     I may be labeled as a jerk, but she’s going to fall in love with me, and I’m going to make her cuss and drink whisky instead of lemonade. Why? Because sometimes beauty comes with a dirty mouth and sometimes your lemonade needs to be spiked.