The best thing in the world happens on some Sunday nights in Jackson, Mississippi. It’s not every week so don’t just show up. Every now and then you will get a letter in the mail from Ed—it looks pretty plain but then you open it and there’s the garish splash of women in chains or a knife dripping with caro, and a write-up telling you about how this movie hasn’t been shown in thirty years, and the last time they showed it in Jackson folks got arrested. Be there at 8:15.
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