Valerie
by Robert Maynard Kempf

?We just about gave up the ghost that time, eh?? He smirked, revealing a mouth void of several teeth. Where the fuck is he going with this? Moving toward her and the mirror, Devolera winced each time he stepped on his nearly useless left leg. Both his ebony cane and his ankle-support boots bore the shine of meticulous polishing. The part in his hair looked like it had been cut there with a razor. Valerie glanced at his hands. Black leather gloves.

?The UV rating is through the fucking roof today, darling.? Words flowed from his mouth like piss from a greasy prick.

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