Epilogue - There's a Little Nigger Lover Inside Us All
Marge ran down onto the field to hug Jake after the game ended. He picked her up and spun her in his strong whittling arms.
"You did it Jake," said the coach, "you gave 110% and you're going to get another season with the Boston Awesome Athletics!"
"It wasn't all me," said Jake as he motion for Peggy to hop over. He picked the small boy up.
"I owe a lot of it to Peggy here and his magical leg," he said with a big grin.
"I have to admit Mister Armstrong," said Peggy. "I made up that story about my leg, it's actually made from a kettle and part of an airplane from World War II."
"HAHAHHAHA," said everyone.
"I guess the magic was inside you after all," said Peggy with a smile.
"It's true!" Marge shouted. "There's a little Nigger Lover inside us all!"
"Really, Holmes!" I dropped into my seat, shocked. "You are remarkably tall! What are you, six foot six? Six foot eight?"
As the 19th century diver approaches a giant clam, a flash of brilliant golden light flares from within the shell. I emerge in a swirl of bubbles and do the timeless universal underwater hand signals for the following: ZODIAC KILLER, KKK, BLOOD OF YOUTH
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