(no subject)
Aah dont' like them naiggers thet live down th' street. Ah shot me one of them t'other day an' he started bleedin' black blood. Ah swears to God, cuss it all t' tarnation. So ah start chasin' him an' he falls down in th' field behind Uncle Lester's barn an' ah beat him wif a shovel until he ain't nothin' but a trimenjus pile of daid naigger.