The nickname was unfortunate, but only for reasons she knew. To everyone else, it was tough, butch, manly, inspired fear into the hearts of any man that crossed her in the bars and clubs.
Chop. Like Chop Shop, or so everyone assumed.
She didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because her brother had called her Porkchop when they were kids. The nickname had stuck, before his unfortunate motorcycle accident.
He didn’t recognize her anymore, but the nickname still stuck to her like glue.
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