I tell you what, that big ol' bull sure didn't mess around none when he gored me through the thigh and abdomen. Yes sir, I ain't kiddin' you none.
Looky there, you can see the blood shootin' out o' my femoral artery just like Texas Tea from the Spindletop gusher. Mighty pretty sight, though I
reckon it'll be purt near fatal, sure enough. Ya'll ever seen blood spurt out quite that red? I tell you what, my mama didn't raise no sissy New York
bleeders, no ma'am. We all just bleed right on up, all of us. Now if'n one o' you would be kind enough to hand me that chunk o' my liver that's rollin'
around there in the dust, I reckon it'll fit real nice inside my hat. Well, sure enough.
Next week: A Mississippian muses, "My, but that was a right stringy possum shank, child."
