The Jacosta Sisters

There was word spreading that Dejesus had it in for the Witness, in inside outside in, as words seldom spread evenly like well-laid asphalt. Dejesus had it in for most people he found troublingly and halfcocked. He had it in for the man who swept the streets, a slight man with a slight beard and a slight set of dentures (chewed down from year upon year of clenching down on the stem of his cob pipe), the woman who sold twisty pretzels in front of the Waymart, an impossibly dim woman with dim thoughts and dim habits (she wore the same floral smock day in and day out, accompanied by a kerchief made from old nappies and chicken dressing string), he had it in for the bollocks counter, an unceasingly fat man with unceasingly fat problems and fat fingers (whose employ it was to count the bollocks on cattle for the Jacosta Bollocks Sisters before they were sent to stud, the cattle, not the sisters) and anyone else he found woebegone and of middling utility. He did not, however, have it in for the man in the hat or the harridan, both of whom he found charming and well mannered.