Nice to be back in a dry county. When I was Sheriff, about half my take-home pay was from collectin' taxes on illegal juice like this, probably works the same here. I think you'd haul in a tidy penny here, winkin' at the bootleggers.
I don't know nothin' 'bout that.
Yeah. Tidy penny. [takes a drink; holds up the beer] You got anything stronger than this, Deputy?
No. No, we ain't.
No? You know in Thornton, Mississippi there's a joint-juice still in every yard. Well, all you need is some corn and sugar, and a pot to boil it in. I tried takin' the prints on this old boy one time, and he'd had his hand in the mash barrel, all his life. Well, there's no skin at all on there, there's no prints.
We ain't too interested in your good ol' Mississippi boy stories, Anderson; you ain't from here no more. Why'd you leave, anyway?
Just wanted a change of scenery. The grits started leavin' a bad taste in my mouth.
Well, if that's how you feel about it, Mr. FBI Man, why don't you drink up that beer and get the hell on outta here, get back to your ****-commie-lovin' bosses up North?
You must not know my boss. Mr. Hoover? He's not too fond of commies. He'd be on your side there.
I don't give two shits whose side your Mr. Hoover's on, boy. All I know is we got 5,000 **** in this county and we ain't registered a vote yet. So you can tell your stiff-suits up there in DC that they ain't gonna change us one bit. 'Less it's over my dead body. Or a lot of dead ****.
You'd kill, Frank? Is that what you're sayin'?
I wouldn't give it no more thought than wringin' a cat's neck. And there ain't a court in Mississippi that'd convict me for it.
How 'bout you, Deputy? How're you with wringin' necks, huh?
Just keep pushin' me, Hoover boy.
[Frank Bailey grabs Anderson by his suit coat]
Now you listen here, you cornholin' ****er. You tell your ****-loving **** bosses that they ain't never gonna find those civil rightsers! So you might as well pack up your bags and get your ass on back up North where you belong, boy-
[Anderson grabs his crotch hard, Bailey screams in pain] [while grabbing Bailey by the crotch]
Now you listen here, shitkicker! Don't you go confusin' me with some whole other body. You got your brains in your dick if you think we're just gonna fade away- we're gonna be here 'til this thing is finished. [after opening his coat and exposing his gun he turns to Deputy Pell] How 'bout you, Deputy? That gun of yours just for show, or do you get to shoot people once in a while? [Releases his grip on Bailey, who collapses to the floor, then takes a swig of beer] Thanks for the beer.
