He knew which ways the trees would fall, and his uncanny knowing was a comfort to a man as surely as it was a source of trepidation. Some said he'd signed his name in a Black Cat book and sold his soul to the Devil for six hundred and sixty-six thousand years. Some said he was a friend to orphans and women, others that he'd climbed up out of the very cleft of a cloven hoof. No matter what anyone said about him, though, everybody agreed that Linden Laughlin was the best jack that had ever lived.
- Josh Ritter, The Great Glorious Goddamn of It All, p. 20
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