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his mother had once told him that religion wasn’t bad; it was meant to be very good. Men corrupted religion; and a man’s religious choice didn’t matter in the least if it was his path to decency and remembering his fellow man.
“We serve food!” the woman told him. “We have an amazing menu. Two amazing menus, actually. Spankings are five dollars a shot, pants up or down.” “And then the servers bring you your food,” Jackson said, grinning.
She just said that basements—and attics—were inherently strange places. They were like depositories for the past, and she just didn’t like them.”
