VOICE.
How big, you say it was, Frank?
FRANK.
Maybe not quite as big as that, but jus’ about fourteen feet.
VOICE.
(Derisively) Gimme that lyin’ snake. That snake wasn’t but four foot long when you killed him last year and you done growed him ten feet in a year.
ANOTHER VOICE.
Well, I don’t know about that. Some of the snakes around here is powerful long. I went out in my front yard yesterday right after the rain and killed a great big ol’ cottonmouth.
SIMMS.
This sho is a snake town. I certainly can’t raise no chickens for ’em. They kill my little biddies jus’ as fast as they hatch out. And yes … if I hadn’t cut them weeds out of the street in front of my parsonage, me or some of my folks woulda been snake-bit right at our front door. (To whole crowd) Whyn’t you all cut down these weeds and clean up these streets?
HAMBO.
Well, the Mayor ain’t said nothin’ ’bout it.
SIMMS.
When the folks misbehaves in this town I think they oughta lock ’em up in a jail and make ’em work their fine out on the streets, then these weeds would be cut down.
VOICE.
How we gonna do that when we ain’t got no jail?
SIMMS.
Well, you sho needs a jail … you-all needs a whole lot of improvements round this town. I ain’t never pastored no town so way-back as this one here.
CLARK.
(Who has lately emerged from the store, fanning himself, overhears this last remark and bristles up) What’s that you say ’bout this town?