“Now get it clear,” he said. “I don’t want a kid who looks like you and doesn’t have a job in my town. First thing I know, a bunch of your friends will show up, mooching food, maybe stealing, maybe pushing drugs. As it is, I’ve half a notion to lock you up for the inconvenience you’ve caused me. But the way I see it, a kid like you, he’s entitled to a mistake. It’s like your judgment’s not as developed as an older man’s and I have to make allowances. But you come back again and I’ll fix you so you won’t know whether your asshole’s bored, bunched, or pecked out by crows. Is that plain enough
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