100 Below: The well read redneck

This was why Roger Tomlinson signed up for when he took the temporary Census job. He needed a summer away from Brown and his parents. He was meeting people outside his milieu.

He regarded the shack. The front porch was festooned with cast-off chairs and a weight set. It smelled of urine and stale beer.

A rangy man emerged from the shack.

“Hello Sir. I’m with the Census. Your name is Mister…â€Â

“Snopes.â€Â

“Really?!?!â€Â

“Naw. Just shittin’ you college boy. Lemme ask, you read any James Dickey?â€Â

“No sir.â€Â

“Good. That’ll make our visit more interestin’.â€Â

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