So I contacted the event manager and got set to do the show again. I put on my nicest shirt, a tie, cologne—I went the whole nine yards to get ready...for this night. It went much better. The audience was really small, like 15 people, mostly bored wives, so it was hard to get laughter rolling, but I didn’t care. The hecklers were gone, either continuing their meetings with Japan, or brooding in the cigar room—I couldn’t care less where the hell they were. As long as Mr. Asshole was out of the. I never saw a single one, and the ride to Green Junction was hectic, but nonproductive. Sunday was a day off, and I spent most of that day sleeping in. I did give a passing thought to visiting the town whorehouse, but I let that slide and went back to sleep. I am sure that you can tell how tired I was!When Monday came, it was time for the run to Hallys Crossing. I made sure to pick up my lunch before leaving, but I still got away well ahead of the stage. Again, the run was uneventful, but, at. More

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