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!"
Simply put, if I had Johnny Manziel’s physical gifts, you better believe I would be there in the Weight Room, getting to bed early, doing whatever I had to do to be the best possible athlete I could be. I wouldn't be posting on social media about sucking titties. I wouldn't even look at a titty, buddy. I'd look at a titty and see two big footballs.
A real friend doesn't move until the middle of August, ensuring temperatures in the 90s and a humidity that turns boxers into moist balls of ruined cotton.
Expendable? You must be joking.
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