FullReads

“Git offen my chest!” say a big voice all on a suddent, ‘ca’se dat stump am been selected by de captain ob de ghostes for to be he chest, ‘ca’se he ain’t got no chest betwixt he shoulders an’ he legs. An’ li’l black Mose he hop offen dat stump right peart. Yes, sah; right peart.

“‘Scuse me! ‘Scuse me!” dat li’l black Mose beg an’ pleed, an’ de ghostes ain’t know whuther to eat him all up or not, ‘ca’se he step on de boss ghostes’s chest dat a-way. But bimeby they ‘low they let him go ‘ca’se dat was an accident, an’ de captain ghost he say, “Mose, you Mose, Ah gwine let you off dis time, ‘ca’se you ain’t nuffin’ but a misabul li’l tremblin’ nigger; but Ah want you should remimber one thing mos’ particular’.”

“Ya-yas, sah,” say dat li’l black boy; “Ah’ll remimber. What is dat Ah got to remimber?”

De captain ghost he swell up, an’ he swell up, twell he as big as a house, an’ he say in a voice whut shake de ground:

“Dey ain’t no ghosts.”

So li’l black Mose he bound to remimber dat, an’ he rise up an’ mek a bow, an’ he proceed toward home right libely. He do, indeed.

An’ he gwine along jes as fast as he kin whin he come to de aidge ob de buryin’-ground whut on de hill, an’ right dar he bound to stop, ‘ca’se de kentry round about am so populate he ain’t able to go frough. Yas, sah, seem like all de ghostes in de world havin’ de conferince right dar. Seem like all de ghosteses whut yever was am havin’ a convintion on dat spot. An’ dat li’l black Mose so skeered he jes fall down on e’ old log whut dar an’ screech an’ moan! An’ all on a suddent de log up and spoke to li’l Mose:

“Get offen me! Get offen me!” yell dat log.

So li’l black Mose he git offen dat log, an’ no mistake.

An’ soon as he git offen de log, de log uprise, an’ li’l black Mose he see dat dat log am de king ob all de ghostes. An’ whin de king uprise, all de congregation crowd round li’l black Mose, an’ dey am about leben millium an’ a few lift over. Yes, sah; dat de reg’lar annyul Hallowe’en convintion whut li’l black Mose interrup. Right dar am all de sperits in de world, an’ all de ha’nts in de world, an’ all de hobgoblins in de world, an’ all de ghouls in de world, an’ all de spicters in de world, an’ all de ghostes in de world. An’ whin dey see li’l black Mose, dey all gnash dey teef an’ grin ‘ca’se it gettin’ erlong toward dey-all’s lunchtime. So de king, whut he name old Skull-an’-Bones, he step on top ob li’l Mose’s head, an’ he say:

“Gin’l’min, de convintion will come to order. De sicretary please note who is prisint. De firs’ business whut come before de convintion am: whut we gwine do to a li’l black boy whut stip on de king an’ maul all ober de king an’ treat de king dat disdespictful.”

An’ li’l black Mose jes moan an’ sob:

“‘Scuse me! ‘Scuse me, Mistah King! Ah ain’t mean no harm at all.”

But nobody ain’t pay no attintion to him at all, ‘ca’se yevery one lookin’ at a monstrous big ha’nt whut name Bloody Bones, whut rose up an’ spoke.

“Your Honor, Mistah King, an’ gin’l’min an’ ladies,” he say, “dis am a right bad case ob lazy majesty, ‘ca’se de king been step on. Whin yevery li’l black boy whut choose gwine wander round at night an’ stip on de king of ghostes, it ain’t no time for to palaver, it ain’t no time for to prevaricate, it ain’t no time for to cogitate, it ain’t no time do nuffin’ but tell de truth, an’ de whole truth, an’ nuffin but de truth.”