teacher tell you that lie,” he said.
“Yes she did, man.”
“She said there was really a guy like that what called hisself Sweet Papa Toussan?”
Riley’s voice was unbelieving, and there was a wistful expressionin his eyes that Buster could not understand. Finally he dropped his head and grinned.
“Well,” he said, “I bet thass what ole Toussan said. You know how grown folks is, they caint tell a story right ’cepting real old folks like Granma.”
“They sho caint,” said Riley. “They don’t know how to put the right stuff to it.”
Riley stood, his legs spread wide, and stuck his thumbs in the top of his trousers, swaggering sinisterly.
“Come on, watch me do it now, Buster. Now I bet ole Toussan looked down at them white folks standing just about like this and said in a soft easy voice:
Ain’t I done begged you white folks to quit messin’ with me?…”
“Thass right, quit messing with ’im,” chanted Buster.
“But naw, you all had to come on anyway …”
“… Just ’cause they was black …”
“Thass right,” said Riley. “Then ole Toussan felt so damn bad and mad the tears came a-trickling down …”
“… He was really mad.”
“And then, man, he said in his big, bad voice:
Goddamn you white folks, how come you all caint let us colored alone?”
“… An’ he was crying …”
“… An’ Toussan tole them peckerwoods:
I been beggin’ you all to quit bothering us …”
“… Beggin’ on his bended knees!…”
“Then, man, Toussan got real mad and snatched off his hat and started stompin’ up and down on it and the tears was tricklin’ down and he said:
You all come tellin’ me about Napoleon …”
“They was tryin’ to scare ’im, man …”
“Said:
I don’t give a damn about Napoleon …”
“… Wasn’t studyin’ ’bout him …”
“… Toussan said:
Napoleon ain’t nothing but a man!
Then Toussan pulled back his shining sword like this, and twirled it at them peckerwoods’ throats so hard it z-z-z-zinged in the air!”
“Now keep on, finish it, man,” said Buster. “What’d Toussan do then?”
“Then you know what he did, he said:
I oughta beat the hell outa you peckerwoods!”
“Thass right, and he did it too,” said Buster. He jumped to his feet and fenced violently with five desperate imaginary soldiers, running each through with his imaginary sword. Buster watched him from the porch, grinning.
“Toussan musta scared them white folks almost to death!”
“Yeah, thass ’bout the way it was,” said Buster. The rhythm was dying now and he sat back upon the porch, breathing tiredly.
“It sho is a good story,” said Riley.
“Hecks, man, all the stories my teacher tells us is good. She’s a good ole teacher—but you know one thing?”
“Naw, what?”
“Ain’t none of them stories in the books. Wonder why?”
“Hell, you know why, Ole Toussan was too hard on them white folks, thass why.”
“Oh, he was a hard man!”
“He was mean …”
“But a good mean!”
“Toussan was clean …”
“… He was a good, clean mean,” said Riley.
“Aw, man, he was sooo-preme,” said Buster.
“Riiiley!!”
The boys stopped short in their word play, their mouths wide.
“Riley, I say!” It was Riley’s mother’s voice.
“Ma’m?”
“She musta heard us cussin’,” whispered Buster.
“Shut up, man … What you want, Ma?”
“I says I want you all to go round the backyard and play. You keeping up too much fuss out there. White folks says we tear up a neighborhood when we move in it and you all out there jus provin’ them out true. Now git on round in the back.”
“Aw, Ma, we was jus playing, Ma …”
“Boy, I said for you all to go on.”
“But, Ma …”
“You hear me, boy!”
“Yessum, we going,” said Riley. “Come on, Buster.”
Buster followed slowly behind, feeling the dew upon his feet as he walked up on the shaded grass.
“What else did he do, man?”
“Yes she did, man.”
“She said there was really a guy like that what called hisself Sweet Papa Toussan?”
Riley’s voice was unbelieving, and there was a wistful expressionin his eyes that Buster could not understand. Finally he dropped his head and grinned.
“Well,” he said, “I bet thass what ole Toussan said. You know how grown folks is, they caint tell a story right ’cepting real old folks like Granma.”
“They sho caint,” said Riley. “They don’t know how to put the right stuff to it.”
Riley stood, his legs spread wide, and stuck his thumbs in the top of his trousers, swaggering sinisterly.
“Come on, watch me do it now, Buster. Now I bet ole Toussan looked down at them white folks standing just about like this and said in a soft easy voice:
Ain’t I done begged you white folks to quit messin’ with me?…”
“Thass right, quit messing with ’im,” chanted Buster.
“But naw, you all had to come on anyway …”
“… Just ’cause they was black …”
“Thass right,” said Riley. “Then ole Toussan felt so damn bad and mad the tears came a-trickling down …”
“… He was really mad.”
“And then, man, he said in his big, bad voice:
Goddamn you white folks, how come you all caint let us colored alone?”
“… An’ he was crying …”
“… An’ Toussan tole them peckerwoods:
I been beggin’ you all to quit bothering us …”
“… Beggin’ on his bended knees!…”
“Then, man, Toussan got real mad and snatched off his hat and started stompin’ up and down on it and the tears was tricklin’ down and he said:
You all come tellin’ me about Napoleon …”
“They was tryin’ to scare ’im, man …”
“Said:
I don’t give a damn about Napoleon …”
“… Wasn’t studyin’ ’bout him …”
“… Toussan said:
Napoleon ain’t nothing but a man!
Then Toussan pulled back his shining sword like this, and twirled it at them peckerwoods’ throats so hard it z-z-z-zinged in the air!”
“Now keep on, finish it, man,” said Buster. “What’d Toussan do then?”
“Then you know what he did, he said:
I oughta beat the hell outa you peckerwoods!”
“Thass right, and he did it too,” said Buster. He jumped to his feet and fenced violently with five desperate imaginary soldiers, running each through with his imaginary sword. Buster watched him from the porch, grinning.
“Toussan musta scared them white folks almost to death!”
“Yeah, thass ’bout the way it was,” said Buster. The rhythm was dying now and he sat back upon the porch, breathing tiredly.
“It sho is a good story,” said Riley.
“Hecks, man, all the stories my teacher tells us is good. She’s a good ole teacher—but you know one thing?”
“Naw, what?”
“Ain’t none of them stories in the books. Wonder why?”
“Hell, you know why, Ole Toussan was too hard on them white folks, thass why.”
“Oh, he was a hard man!”
“He was mean …”
“But a good mean!”
“Toussan was clean …”
“… He was a good, clean mean,” said Riley.
“Aw, man, he was sooo-preme,” said Buster.
“Riiiley!!”
The boys stopped short in their word play, their mouths wide.
“Riley, I say!” It was Riley’s mother’s voice.
“Ma’m?”
“She musta heard us cussin’,” whispered Buster.
“Shut up, man … What you want, Ma?”
“I says I want you all to go round the backyard and play. You keeping up too much fuss out there. White folks says we tear up a neighborhood when we move in it and you all out there jus provin’ them out true. Now git on round in the back.”
“Aw, Ma, we was jus playing, Ma …”
“Boy, I said for you all to go on.”
“But, Ma …”
“You hear me, boy!”
“Yessum, we going,” said Riley. “Come on, Buster.”
Buster followed slowly behind, feeling the dew upon his feet as he walked up on the shaded grass.
“What else did he do, man?”
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