“Get back here city boy!” shouted one of the three goons, their large and ungainly feet pounded the pavement in pursuit. Were it not for their large plastic Oakley shades, one would no doubt have seen bloodshot and bulging eyes staring out from inside the sockets of those flushed red and huffing faces. “Don’t make us do something we might regret Allison, Boss wants his money!” The goon warned but Jack Allison didn’t listen, and with a bag full of cash in each hand was the leader in this dangerous game of tag. He cut through the Mint Festival’s crowd with impressive footwork for a man of his size and athletic inability, weaving in and out of the most trafficked sections, and ducking into and out of various stalls and booths, trying to lose his tail. Behind him and still in pursuit one of the three goons gasped “He’s headed to the plop!” But it was too little too late, they would never catch him in time and with that realization the goons slowed their run to a walk. In desperation one of them reached into his jacket, but a head shake and a firm hand on his shoulder from the senior goon—the one who spoke before—quelled the murderous intent. “Well what do we do now?” He asked. “Wait and see if this sonofabitch really is as good as he says...” said the senior, and they made their way—much slower this time— after Jack. When Jack reached the “Peppermint Plop” stall still gasping for air he slammed both bags of money onto the betting table and told the attendant, “three turds:” —gasp— “First turd by the barn it’ll start to turtle by first bale,” —gasp and swallow— “second by the fence, turtling by tractor, third is a straight shooter no turtling back where the first was.” The attendant nodded and took the cash, and Jack groaned in relief and sunk to the floor with his back against the table, the sun shining on his upturned bloodied and bandaged face. Suddenly the rays from the sun were blocked out along with the sound of footsteps moving toward him. When the footsteps stopped. Jack opened one swollen eye and then the other, “Gentlemen!” He said and scrambled to his feet to meet the three towering goons. He held his hands out as if trying to pacify wild animals. “Boss is gonna get his money, I promise” Jack then put both of his hands together as if he were about to pray and shook them back and forth as if he were shaking secret dice. “Just—you gotta let me see this through. I’ve got Okie blood in me, I can feel it! We’re gonna win big!”

Topics discussed on today's episode include: Dirty Clothes Dirty Soul, Peppermint Plop, Cuomo’s Dumb Wife, Quibi Quatchup, Pfriday and Katie Halper!

VOD: https://www.twitch.tv/videos/601208951

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