>Well, Shannon, you feel like telling me why those Freaky

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>Well, Shannon, you feel like telling me why those Freaky Joe's were after you?

>I'm not sure.

>Well, do you ever think that maybe they were chasing you because you're a whore?

>What?

>Now, I know what you're thinking. Crazy preacher man spoutin' off at the mouth about the whore of Babylon or some-such. That ain't me. I'm not here to lecture you. I mean, what's the point? My words just curdle in your ears. Wouldn't take in a thing. Head's filled with so much filth that ain't no room for words of truth. Well, you know what you are, Shannon? Dirty.

>What? I'm not! What're—

>Now, now, now. There's no blame here. You were born dirty, born without a soul. Born with that gaping maw wants to open up, suck out a man's marrow. Makes me puke to think too hard on it. Yeah, that there door's problematical. I don't know as I could recommend steppin' out at this speed anyway. You're like as not to tumble some. But, of
course, there's my boys back there—Ooh, they hate to miss a mark.

>Your boys?

>Well, they ain't exactly my "blue eyed boys" but they're hard workers. And they don't truck with Satan—that was just me having fun. Satan is a little man.