havenât got her!
âSon, life is like a crazy crap game. Iâm like a sucker who gets a long run of good luck. Then the dice turn against him. The silly creep had conned himself. He had thought his good luck run was all due to his big brain.
âThe bubble bursts and the chump finds himself broke and in a gutter. Iâm not broke. But think of itâI had to con that square bastard until I got hoarse, just to stay in this pigsty for a weekend.
âAt this moment Iâm wishing my ass off that I had stayed down South. What the hell good did it do me to leave there and try to improve myself?
âGoddamnit! I taught myself to read and write, and speak fair English. I had a horror of winding up like the ignorant niggers I grew up with. Tonight I had to kiss the black ass of one of those same niggers Iâve held in contempt. Iâve come a full, funky circle, Folks.â
I said, âBlue, youâve really had it tough, havenât you? Even though your mother and father died in your teens, at least, Blue, you had a taste of happy home life.
âI barely remember my father. The weak white sonuvabitch fled back to his white world after his hot yen for a nigger body went cold.
âYour motherâs heart died. My motherâs brain withered. She died a drooling mental cripple. The first time I went to see her she tried to snatch my balls off.
âSo, Blue, I could get a license to bellyache. Youâre lucky to be jet black. What if you had been a racial freak like me?
âIt isnât exactly a happy limbo to be a white Nigger in a black world driven paranoid by a white world to hate white skin. But, pal, Iâm thankful you came North. I would have been a lost ball in high weeds without you. Say, shouldnât you call home again?â
Blue said, âI think I will.â
The bed creaked and he stood up. He was a blank silhouette in the near darkness.
He said, âFolks, youâre right about my limited advantage in having black visibility. I know youâve shown raw heart for all your life in this black world.
âBut now you can turn that white skin into an advantage Iâve been denied. Youâre still young; Iâm old. You donât need me. When we get out of Chicago, go across that invisible steel fence and pass as one of the privileged.
âFolks, youâll have lots of company. I wouldnât be shocked to learn that several millions of white Niggers just like you are in that sweet garden of opportunity on that other side.
âItâs really kind of comical when you think about it. I can almost see those Niggers squirming and suffering at their interracial breakfast tables. Even in the executive suites of some of Americaâs most honored corporations, those white fakes get hot flashes at that word nigger. Of course, some of the fakes donât quake. They revel in secret glee at the epithet.
âTheir lives are booby trapped with the constant terror of exposure. But a fin will get a C-note that for them the reward outweighs the tensions.
âDonât be a sucker, son. All the milk and honey is on the other side of this hell.â
He glided through the bedroom doorway. I lay there hoping Cleo was home. I wondered how I could phrase the truth about her to Blue. Then I thought about his determination to take her with us. No, heâd be immune no matter how I phrased it.
I heard Berthaâs growls lengthen in sequence. I hoped she wouldnât awaken. I couldnât stand a repeat of Blueâs cave tale. I couldnât understand how Reverend could get a wink of sleep so close to the guttural muzzle of Berthaâs snoring.
I heard muffled thudding, perhaps like a runt elephant stompingon a bale of cotton. It was Blue stocking-footing it up the stairway. He came in and fell into the bunk.
He said, âI didnât get an answer. I let it ring a dozen times. I donât understand it. I tried to call Felix.
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