Chapter Twelve

Are We There Yet?

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“What if it sung good?”

“If it sang good, it was either Sherman Bobby’s or Cassidy Dave’s. If it had pointy ears, it old Doc Schlock's who was the town teethpuller and did abortions on the side."

"But then they got on TV."

"It wasn’t them. First somebody wrote a sappy story getting the Snotlaws all backwards and made them look like scrappy hillbillies trying to survive during the Depression. But by the time the Depression hit, the real Snotlaws had all moved west and opened the first casino in Sinsity, Utah. Then Bugsy Seigelmen, Hymen Roth, and the Sicilian Godfathers came and wiped them all out on Saint Valentine’s Day.”

“And that was so sad, right?”



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“What if it sung good?”

“If it sang good, it was either Sherman Bobby’s or Cassidy Dave’s. If it had pointy ears, it old Doc Schlock's who was the town teethpuller and did abortions on the side."

"But then they got on TV."

"It wasn’t them. First somebody wrote a sappy story getting the Snotlaws all backwards and made them look like scrappy hillbillies trying to survive during the Depression. But by the time the Depression hit, the real Snotlaws had all moved west and opened the first casino in Sinsity, Utah. Then Bugsy Seigelmen, Hymen Roth, and the Sicilian Godfathers came and wiped them all out on Saint Valentine’s Day.”

“And that was so sad, right?”