The days are drawing closer and closer.  Soon the Holly Weird crowd will be descending upon my small New England town, with cameras, lights, and furry boom mics. Not that this town isn’t used to celebrity or power. Shit, George W. Bush attended high school right here in Andover. Many a CEO calls this place home too. But, the life of a guy who’s making his living off of tales about whores, drugs, and the gutter may not be the type of citizen, they’d like drawing attention to their rich man’s paradise. People like me are something they’d like swept under the rug around here. A skeleton best kept in the closet.  I can see the fear in their eyes now. After this film debuts could droves of junkies decide to call this town the new mecca? Will thousands of them begin making the pilgrimage to catch a glimpse of this drug riddled Messiah? I can hear their whispers now. ” He’s probably going to start a Mansonesque commune right here in town.”  Jesus, the Country club crowd wants nothing to do with that crowd invading their town! I’ll be black balled and will have to drive thirty minutes out of town for a simple gallon of gas or dozen eggs.  It’s probably best if I start greasing palms now. I have the number of the town manager here some place. I should give him a call and find how much it’s going to cost me to be allowed to stay around here unmolested.  It won’t be cheap, that I know. But greed fiends like these can be paid to look the other way.  Money is their religion and if you got enough of it– you can be their personal Jesus.

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