In the dark where two dusty back roads cross a black car sits waiting. The man inside will make a deal he has many times before and will again. He is known in these parts as The Judge.
Folk go to him when they have a powerful need, a want that can’t be satisfied any other way. Some are to young to know better, others are desperate and still others just pain stupid. His price is high and many never believe they will have to pay it but the bill comes due eventually. There is no escape. No lead pill that can free you. Once struck the deal is all that remains.
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In the dark where two dusty back roads cross a black car sits waiting. The man inside will make a deal he has many times before and will again. He is known in these parts as The Judge.
Folk go to him when they have a powerful need, a want that can’t be satisfied any other way. Some are to young to know better, others are desperate and still others just pain stupid. His price is high and many never believe they will have to pay it but the bill comes due eventually. There is no escape. No lead pill that can free you. Once struck the deal is all that remains.
He kicked the heap of useless timber, then picked it up and flung it across the room. It slammed into the framed photo of his icon, Robert Johnson. It crashed to the floor—bits of glass and wood scattering everywhere.
Stories from a HARD PLACE
In the dark where two dusty back roads cross a black car sits waiting. The man inside will make a deal he has many times before and will again. He is known in these parts as The Judge.
Folk go to him when they have a powerful need, a want that can’t be satisfied any other way. Some are to young to know better, others are desperate and still others just pain stupid. His price is high and many never believe they will have to pay it but the bill comes due eventually. There is no escape. No lead pill that can free you. Once struck the deal is all that remains.
