Summary: The Jungle by Laird Long read by Shawn Robertson A claw-hammer crushed a bum’s skull. A four-foot crowbar slammed against a hobo’s face, breaking jaw and cheekbone. Fortunately, the screaming helped to muffle the nauseating sound of the cracking bones. Benny ran as fast as he could from the bonfire, making a line for the bush. Just as he did that, however, two black-hooded men stepped out from the edge of the brush, cutting off his retreat. He spun around. He stared stupidly at the horrific scene at the fire. Outlined against the sky-bound orange flames was an orgy of destruction. Twenty large and angry men wearing black hoods were doing their level best to kill the thirty-odd hobos and bums who had camped for the night at the Kansas City jungle. Ex-Con Man by Laird Long read by Shawn Robertson Jay carefully set down his cup of coffee and looked up at the sweater-girl hanging from the faded wallpaper - Saturday, July 10, 1946. He pulled out his gold pocket-watch and read the dial - 4:00 p.m. The First National Bank of Kansas was doing a heavy business across the street. Cash-heavy. The hicks were in from the sticks surrounding Lawrence to get some dough and do some shopping. It was a once-a-week migration as old as the ruts in the road. Jay delicately plucked a monogrammed handkerchief out of his breast pocket and lightly tapped his forehead with it. The mug behind the counter caught a whiff of eau-de- toilet and arched his unkempt eyebrows, impressed. It was a hot day in Kansas. For Jay, it was hot every day and everywhere.
