This older raventack feller with a wild beard, a wiry chest and a weathered face like a swampy marshmallow: Ripley. Ripley sat hisself down behind Cody. He spread his legs, so Cody was just inches from Ripley’s briefs-clad crotch. He wore holey tight-whites with his pubes protruding from the worn-bare threads imprinted with West Virginia State Penitentiary in faded lettering. Them drawers was terrible stained with ballsweat.