“I was runnin’ a little meetin’ about the evils of the devil’s juice. The revival business is a reliable one and if’n you tap into the disgruntled womenfolk you kin raise a pretty penny.” “So, what happened?” The older man cleared his throat. He was a talker. “Well, I was rakin’ in five or six dollars a night, a dime a head, children and niggers got in free. Then one night, ironically—her name was Penny and she was pretty—she caught me partakin’ from my private jug. Then all hell busted loose. They asked of me the impossible.”
