"Sho," he said, stopping his cart and resting it on its support. "That's it. Who --" he halted to
crouch with one foot on the curb like a country preacher about to pound his Bible -- "got . . . the . . .
dog," his head snapping with each word like an angry rooster's.
I laughed nervously and stepped back. He watched me out of shrewd eyes. "Oh,
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daddy-o,
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home, how come you trying to act like you never heard that before,
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morning but us colored -- Why you trying to deny me?"
Suddenly I was embarrassed and angry. "Deny you? What do you mean?"
"Just answer the question. Is you got him, or ain't you?"
"A dog?"
"Yeah,
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I was exasperated. "No, not this morning,
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"Wait a minute, daddy. Now don't go get mad. Damn, man! I thought sho you had him," he