Flash Fiction: The Devilish Details

Good dogs don't lie, but some husbands do.

“I just don’t feel good about this anymore. Something doesn’t feel right,” I said to Hatch, but I don’t think he was listening. He had switched on the lamp atop his plastic coon-hunting hat so he could get a better view of the strippers in the darkness. With his waterproof hip wader boots on and his camo shirt, he looked like a woodsman fresh off a hunting trip, had it not been for the curvy girl with dirty feet dancing before him, the dollar bills clutched tightly in one hand, beer can in the other.