Anthony Varley pointed at the few motorcycles tossed aside by the punks.
"Now I'm taking submissions for dirt on Madam Dale's family. Listen up, I don't want fake shit, I want the real deal! But it's gotta be nasty, gotta be disgusting! Whoever's got a good story, if I think it's worth listening to, gets a motorcycle right here."
Anthony had tossed out the bait.
And man, that was tempting.
Roads here ain't great, so a motorcycle is gold, way more useful than some fancy iPhone.
A bunch of villagers were itching to give it a shot.
But for the moment, nobody opened their mouth.
Most villagers were honest folks, not used to running their mouths about others.
Plus, the Dale Family was all troublemakers and shrews, folks worried they'd get revenge.
But big rewards make for brave people.
Not just brave men—brave women, too.
A woman in her forties who'd been hiding in the back finally stepped forward.
She asked, a little nervously, "You really gonna give a bike?"
