《行尸走肉》" 'All You Zombies—' " by Robert A. Heinlein
The Unmarried Mother was a man twenty--five years old, no taller than I am, childish features and a touchy temper. I didn't like his looks---I never had---but he was a lad I was here to recruit, he was my boy. I gave him my best barkeep's smile.
Maybe I'm too critical. He wasn't swish; his nickname came from what he always said when some nosy type asked him his line: "I'm an unmarried mother." If he felt less than murderous he would add: "at four cents a word. I write confession stories."
If he felt nasty, he would wait for somebody to make something of it. He had a lethal style of infighting, like a female cop---reason I wanted him. Not the only one.
He had a load on, and his face showed that he despised people more than usual. Silently I poured a double shot of Old Underwear and left the bottle. He drank it, poured another.
I wiped the bar top. "How's the 'Unmarried Mother' racket?"