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You folks going past tishomingo?
Sure, hop in.
How you doin', son? Name's everett.
These two soggy sons of ***
Are pete and delmar.
Everett: Keep your fingers away from pete's mouth.
He ain't had nothing to eat for 13 years,
Except prison food, gopher, and a little greasy horse.
Thanks for the lift, sir.
My name's tommy. Tommy johnson.
How you doin', tommy?
Say, I haven't seen a house out here for miles.
What are you doin' out in the middle of nowhere?
Well, I had to be at that there crossroads last midnight.
Sell my soul to the devil.
Everett: Well, ain't it a small world?
Spiritually speakin'.
Pete and delmar just been baptized and saved.
I guess I'm the only one that remains unaffiliated.
Delmar: This ain't no laughin' matter, everett.
What'd the devil give you for your soul, tommy?
Well, he taught me to play this here guitar real good.
Oh, son,
For that you traded your everlasting soul?
Well, I wasn't usin' it.
I've always wondered, what's the devil look like?
Well, of course, there are all manner
Of lesser imps and demons, pete,
But the great satan hisself
Is red and scaly with a bifurcated tail,
And he carries a hay fork.
Tommy: Oh, no. No, sir.
He's white. As white as you folks.
With empty eyes and a big, hollow voice.
He loved to travel around with a mean old hound.
That's right.
And he told you to go to tishomingo?
Well, no, sir. Why, that was my idea.
I heard there's a man down there.
He pays folks money to sing into his can.
Tommy: They say he pays extra
If'n you play real good.
Tishomingo, huh?
How much he pay?
[squeaking]