[Here begins a memoir of Murphy’s Golden Memories, a time-capsule of boyhood, from his hazy lazy crazy days at the reform school.]
“Murphy.”
“Yes’m.”
“You been bad.”
“Yes’m, I know’m.”
“You know what that means.”
“No’m.”
(Incredulous.) “ ‘No-ma’am’?! You don’t know by now? -- It means you get whipped.”
“Yes’m. I know’m. Reckon that’ll happen. Happens alla time. But I -- just don’t -- know what it -- means….”
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