Old Josh, in: "Whoes Blacker?"
Old Josh, in: “Whose Blacker?"
Old Josh and Amos are at the Shanty Town race track (Leastways Downs), a few miles from Ozark, Alabama, it is in the 1870s, and it is summer, and Josh’s horse just lost the race, which often it does, and it always seems Josh knows when it will lose—and win as well—because he always bets on the other horse, that is to say, the right horse, and he never loses. And Amos just lost his last $15.00 dollars…and he’s as mad as a drunken hornet:
Amos, told Old Josh outright, and with mounting anger, after Josh’s horse lost the race at ‘Leastways Downs, ‘
“You done told your horse not to win, didn’t you?”
“Why you big black nigger, youall calls me a fixer I fix youall right her’ and now!” Said Josh in a heated rage, counting his money he just won on Old Ironsides, Mr. Ritt’s horse, the banker from Ozark.
“Who you callin’ big black nigger boy, cuz you is blacker than I is, you is like midnight in the day.” Said Amos, wide-eyed, and with clinched fists.
“I take this big black fist of mine Amos, friend or not, and puts it where the sun don’t shine effen you dont stop calling me blacker than you is, cuz everyone knows you is the blackest nigger in shantytown, maybe in all Alabama!” Said Old Josh hotter than dray wood burning high in a heath…!”
“Hay there Mr. Ritt?” yelped Josh in a hoarse like manner, “come-on over her’ effen you will, settle this her’ argument between me and Amos,” asked Josh.
“What you boys frighten about now?” asked Mr. Ritt.
“Who-da the blackest one of us folk here is?” asked Josh.
“Well everyone knows its Grandma Walsh!” Said Mr. Ritt.
“No, I means, Amos or me?” questioned Josh.
Mr. Ritt looked at Amos, and he often helped him at the Bank, cleaning out the backyard, and burning the trash; and Josh, a few times had help him out at the stables, he had purchased some years back, paying Mr. Hightower, his master back then for the time he had used Josh, but those days were over—far-gone now, slavery had vanished; said Ritt to Josh in a whisper, “Youall goin’ to paint my stable, cheap, I’ll help you out here with Amos then?”
“Amos,” said Old Josh, “I guess you is right, I is blacker than you, and he left counting his money as if nothing had taken place, laughing all the way, his back to Mr. Ritt, walking back to Mr. Hightower’s plantation, where he and his two sons lived, Silas and Jordon.
1-20-2009 Sketch: 77
Old Josh and Amos are at the Shanty Town race track (Leastways Downs), a few miles from Ozark, Alabama, it is in the 1870s, and it is summer, and Josh’s horse just lost the race, which often it does, and it always seems Josh knows when it will lose—and win as well—because he always bets on the other horse, that is to say, the right horse, and he never loses. And Amos just lost his last $15.00 dollars…and he’s as mad as a drunken hornet:
Amos, told Old Josh outright, and with mounting anger, after Josh’s horse lost the race at ‘Leastways Downs, ‘
“You done told your horse not to win, didn’t you?”
“Why you big black nigger, youall calls me a fixer I fix youall right her’ and now!” Said Josh in a heated rage, counting his money he just won on Old Ironsides, Mr. Ritt’s horse, the banker from Ozark.
“Who you callin’ big black nigger boy, cuz you is blacker than I is, you is like midnight in the day.” Said Amos, wide-eyed, and with clinched fists.
“I take this big black fist of mine Amos, friend or not, and puts it where the sun don’t shine effen you dont stop calling me blacker than you is, cuz everyone knows you is the blackest nigger in shantytown, maybe in all Alabama!” Said Old Josh hotter than dray wood burning high in a heath…!”
“Hay there Mr. Ritt?” yelped Josh in a hoarse like manner, “come-on over her’ effen you will, settle this her’ argument between me and Amos,” asked Josh.
“What you boys frighten about now?” asked Mr. Ritt.
“Who-da the blackest one of us folk here is?” asked Josh.
“Well everyone knows its Grandma Walsh!” Said Mr. Ritt.
“No, I means, Amos or me?” questioned Josh.
Mr. Ritt looked at Amos, and he often helped him at the Bank, cleaning out the backyard, and burning the trash; and Josh, a few times had help him out at the stables, he had purchased some years back, paying Mr. Hightower, his master back then for the time he had used Josh, but those days were over—far-gone now, slavery had vanished; said Ritt to Josh in a whisper, “Youall goin’ to paint my stable, cheap, I’ll help you out here with Amos then?”
“Amos,” said Old Josh, “I guess you is right, I is blacker than you, and he left counting his money as if nothing had taken place, laughing all the way, his back to Mr. Ritt, walking back to Mr. Hightower’s plantation, where he and his two sons lived, Silas and Jordon.
1-20-2009 Sketch: 77
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 10:10 AM
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