Dirty Blonde

#9

Not much is known about Dirty Blonde before she appeared in Tijuana with a fully-loaded .45 and the clothes on her back; it all depends on who you listen to. Some say she was born and raised at the Crazy Horse Too in Vegas. Others says she was the daughter of a Senator who cast her out for her refusal to conform to the life of a politician's daughter (this was before the Bush twins).

But the most reliable rumor claims that she grew up in the backwoods of east Texas. There's nothing in this world more entertaining and destructive than a country girl when you get a little liquor in her, and Dirty had a powerful lust for Jack Daniel's. She spent her adolescence flying down dirt roads, gettin' drunk, and fuckin' shit up in general.

Anyway, one day, a boy got a little too handsy in the bed of a pickup, and Dirty'd had enough. She pulled out a pistol and shot him (this is Texas, we all have guns here). Now, people will tell you that education in rural Texas is scanty and sub-standard, but they don't know shit. It seems she knew enough to evade police in three counties before they lost track of her completely. Yankees who take buses and subways everywhere don't know shit about the way Southerners can drive when the need arises. Then there's nothing sedate or unhurried about us. We've been known to go off the road when it comes right down to it. I say that more than makes up for the math and science those pansy Yankees learn in school.

So you can imagine the fashion in which Dirty Blonde lit out for Mexico, hollerin' and cursin' those pigs all the way. She laid low in Tijuana for a while until some Feds came around asking too many questions for her liking. She was running out of time and had to go the last place they would ever look for her - a town full of hippies.

That's right, she decided to head for Austin. After a minor battle with the Border Patrol, it was smooth sailing all the way to the Hill Country. Once in town, she stopped at Casino el Camino to wet her whistle, and ended up sitting right next to Honey Homicide, who was devouring a burger and Elijah Craig like there was no tomorrow. They had about the same number of bruises, and Dirty asked what kind of trouble Honey'd been into. Honey proceeded to tell her all about jamming, blocking and fucking bitches up. To Dirty, bouting sounded like heaven. Like everything else in her life, she got into it hollerin' and cursin' up a storm.