Crushed Weasel

Of course, Georgia would head to the one place she always gets both food and drink, the Crushed Weasel. She sat down in a stool, rubbing her head. Annabelle would take note and go over to her.

"Back so soon, Georgia?" Annabelle asked with a raised eyebrow. Normally after eating as much as she did, it took Georgia a while and airing out whole bathrooms to be able to come back for another meal.

"With what just happened, I need another bowl." Georgia replied, paying up front this time. "And get me some booze while you're at it. Thanks."

Annabelle doesn't ask her the reason. With that look on her face, it's clear something really annoying happened and she decided to not bring it up if Georgia didn't want to discuss it. She brought over the usual: A large steaming bowl of chili (almost as big as the pot she uses) and some alcohol. As soon as it hit the table, Georgia began gulping it all down.

Georgia sighed. "You won't believe what happened to me earlier..." Georgia started to explain. Annabelle listened, of course, but couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Hold up. You're saying Texas, stick up her ass Texas, the one we all hate, tried to get in your ass and in your mouth willingly?!" Annabelle repeated in shock.

"Right? It doesn't make sense! It's like she enjoyed it in there or something!" Georgia shook her head. "I was completely fine as long as she was suffering, but now that she likes it, it just feels weird!" Georgia sighed.

Annabelle shook her head. "Look at the bright side. It seems even Texas hasn't lost all her marbles. She knows better than to come in through the door." She pointed to the door, and both of them looked for a second, as if half expecting her to come barging in.