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      BLACK TONGUE     by Dan W. Smathers     June 2005
                

    One day a little boy caught black tongue. No one knew how he got it. We thought maybe he inherited it from his mother. But, we called on her one Sunday after church and she smiled and invited us in. She had baked a cake with powdered sugar and strawberries all around the base, which she fed to us townspeople. We decided it couldn’t possibly be her.
     “Well, if it’s not her it must be the father,” chirped a young woman from the church choir.
     We returned to the little boy's home and found our suspect changing the oil on his old Ford truck. Upon hearing a crowd murmuring and shuffling their feet in the gravel, he crawled out from underneath his truck and began wiping the oil off of his blackened fingers. He then pulled some hand cleaner out of an old dirty can and removed the grime from his palms and even his fingertips and said, “Hello,” offering his personal handshake to every single man, woman and child in our group of concerned citizens.
      “It’s not him,” said a little lady with black shoes.
      “Could we see the boy?” I asked, trying my best to sound like Father Flanagan.
      “Sure,” he replied. “Heya Jacob. Some people want to meet you,” yelled the father. “Everywhere we take him he says the most horrible things. We’re getting kind of worried. I mean you never know when he’ll pop off with his tongue. I’m afraid it might spread to his whole body.”
       Out of the house strolled a young boy about the age of Mark Twain’s Tom Sawyer and sauntered over to the truck.
       “Yeah?” he said, causing one young man in our company to wince.
       “Son,” said the young man, “Do you remember where you might have caught black tongue?” He asked as nicely as he could.
       “Well, I was over to the railroad tracks t’other day.”
       “What’s over at railroad tracks that was calling you?” Asked our minister who is a mother of three.
       “Well, the prisoners in the jail throw us cigarettes and magazines,” said the boy with so much as a blink of the eye.
       “THAT’S IT!” chanted the group in unison.


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