A Chat with Shro...
(Please imagine yourself sitting in a dark, quiet room with Shro...having a drink, a smoke, naked girl's dancing in the background if it helps...)
Upon entering the private chambers of the mysterious and nameless man, one massive hand raises slowly from the worn arm rest of the leather seat and motions to the chair opposite him. "I'm glad you could make it on such short notice," the gruff and graveled voice breaks the silence that permeates the barely lit room. The air about his head swirls with a billow of smoke as he puffs at a cigar that perches between his lips. The stagnate air smells of cigar and an ever present lingering odor of mold. "My schedule is quite busy this time of year, I am afraid I must be leaving quite hasitly after our little chat, so I hope you will forgive my eagerness to tell you my little story. Time is short." Despite the shadow cast over most of his pale face, a grin can be seen jerking up at the corner of his chiseled face. "You wanted to know, I'm happy to tell. So sit down, shut up and let's get this over with."
Thick fingers scissor hold the cigar and place it in the ashtray near him. "So, you demand information, huh? Well ain't that just the cat's meow. He calls it 'doing you a favor', lemme tell ya bub, I flat out call it blackmail. I know where you live, that little shit hole you call home. You misuse what I'm about to tell you and I cannot guarantee you and that partner of yours will live long enough to spend the money." As the hand comes into view once again, it holds a glass of bourbon, the ice clins against the crystal as he takes a sip. "Jebediah Cooper. That's the man, the founding father of this hiccup of a town. Rat bastard called it, 'Unity' to save his own ass from the publice campaign smear the politicians threathened to make when he didn't back down to their demands for bribes. Meh. He caved in anyway, paid the piss ants what they wanted to shut them up. Pussy." He muttered, setting the glass back down once again.
"Ole Jeb founded this town on May 10, 1869. Very same fuck'n day they drove the golden stake. He made a shit ton of money in mining. Shit ton! He found that mine, gorgeous crystals, and made a boat laod raping the land," A speckle of spit flies from his lower lip as he speaks the last tow words, his eyebrows furrowing. "Anyway, he brings his family here, plays up the 'good guy' for the public eye and tosses his hat in the ring for Senator. Inbred mutherfucker, couldn't find his own ass with two hands and he thinks he can run the entire state. No just another power hungry asshole looking to find his name in the hisotry books. He kinda reminded me of Hitler, yah know? That kinda guy. Small man, tiny cock, and he has to over compensate for it some how. Bah! Anyway, the town grew, it flourished, yaddah, yaddah, yaddah." His hand raised once again as he spoke, making movements with his fingers to the last three words as though his puppeted hand is speaking for him.
"So anyways, fast forward to 1929, the city was booming, gorwing and had turned into a nice little place to raise a family. Until, that is, October 29th. The stock market crashed, people lost their jobs, their homes, and our little spot on the map was nearly wiped clean out of the history books. Ole Jeb's son, Dougie was mayor of what promised to the the end of days for our little hovel. He was older than a dusty fart by then, but the poor bastard lost everything in the big crash. Dumb ass wasn't much smarter than his father, apple didn't fall far from dat tree, lemme tell ya. He reads the paper, all the Wall Street heavy hitters jumping to their deaths from skyscrapers. He gets it in his head that this is the way to go out. Fuck'n pussy, just like his ole man. He goes to his office at city hall, gets buttfuck'n drunk as a skunk and jumps out his window. Thing is, it's only two stories up, barely, if that, dumb fuck twists his ankle, bruises his tail bone and breaks his arm. The county doc, a quack if you ask me, doped him all up and told him to stay in bed. He starts hallucinating, thinking he was hearing voices from God or some shit. He thinks his survival is because he's some kind of chosen prophet. Utter bullshit, but anyway he starts this non denominational church, that piece of shit has been here ever since. Not that anybody this day and age believes that religious mumbo jumbo, but they are the reason this town went dry. Drier than a geriatric hooker's pussy. No alcohol. Pft...as if that ever stopped anybody."
The massive hand reaches once again for the glass of bourbon, lifting it to his lips and taking several long draws until the content is empited form the glass. As he sets the glass onto the table once again, he glances at his watch. "I gotta wrap this shit up. That's when the booze running started. Dry town my ass, half the fuck'n city council were alcoholics back then. But, you'll be happy to know, during my own stint as mayor, I got boot legalized all nice and by the book. Unity hasn't been a dry town for over a decade now. Whis was a tad problematic to our moonshine runners, so we got more creative." he smirks, pointing to the plaque of recognition for service to the city with his name on it. "So fast forward again, still a bible thumping bullshit speck on the map, but the money kept rolling in. The 70's hit, we're running more than just booze now, drugs too. By the time the 80's and 90's hit now we got guns and money laundering. It's the perfect little cover for it all, quiet little family town where everybody goes to church on Sunday. It's a small town, it's a quiet little town, and we keep it that way to keep the feds out. You understand that part? No feds. Keep shit under the radar. Protect our cover. Anyway, like I said, now you know the gist of it all. At least enough to wrap your head around it and get started." The massive man rises slowly from the chair, retrieving his cigar, placing it to perch once again between his lips. "Now, get the fuck outta here, I got shit to do."