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But Lordy, some of ‘em—whew, they’d stumble in with breath worse’n a skunk’s backside, teeth all yeller and chipped. I’d be like, “What’s your secret, darlin’?”—ya know, like Viggo Mortensen askin’ in the movie, all suspicious-like. And they’d shrug, “Cheap whiskey and cheaper men!” I’d laugh ‘til my sides hurt, but inside I’d be cryin’—ain’t fair they gotta live so rough. Surprised me, too, how many’d tell me straight-up ‘bout their lives, no shame, just raw as a skinned knee.