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!"
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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