Summer 1988 • Vol. X No. 3 Fiction |

Howard an Monroe

What someun wan wif a poor ol nigga's skull?" "Who know? Cud be A-rabs. Com'nists. Debil worsh'bers. Plum crazy folk." "What dey do wif some ol nigga's skull?" "Who know? Voo-doo or sumpin." "A-rabs doan do voo-doo!" "Who do?" "You do! " "Hooooo!" an Monroe Adams Hatter bout whacks his noggin on de porch rail, doublin up in a whee-OOO-eeze fer breaf. Gol toof glintin in his raisin face. Spittin can balanced on his rockin chair knee. "I no do no voo-doo brudder. A-rabs do de voo-doo. Dey's crazy. Red bout'em in de pepper. Crazy as crazy gits." "Crazy gits purdy crazy Mon-roe Adams." "Dem A-rabs dat crazy. Dey de ones robbin de cem'try. Bustin open grabes wif dere bare hands." "No!" "Yes! Bare han bustin open dem tombs." "Den what dey do?" "Den dey steal de nigga skulls." "What someun wan wif a poor ol nigga's skull?" "Worl be fugged up brudder." "I gots dem worl be fugged up blues Mon-roe Adams." "Doan we bofe?"

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Hundred Year War

By W. D. Wetherell

What someun wan wif a poor ol nigga's skull?" "Who know? Cud be A-rabs. Com'nists. Debil worsh'bers. Plum crazy folk." "What dey do wif some ol nigga's skull?" "Who know? […]

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