- Mmmm! Goddamn, Jimmie! This is some serious gourmet shit! Usually, me and Vince would be happy with some freeze-dried Taster’s Choice right, but he springs this serious GOURMET shit on us! What flavor is this?
- Knock it off, Julie.
- [pause] What?
- I don’t need you to tell me how fucking good my coffee is, okay? I’m the one who buys it. I know how good it is. When Bonnie goes shopping she buys SHIT. I buy the gourmet expensive stuff because when I drink it I want to taste it. But you know what’s on my mind right now? It AIN’T the coffee in my kitchen, it’s the dead nigger in my garage.
- Oh, Jimmie, don’t even worry about that…
- [interupting] No, No, No, No, let me ask you a question. When you came pulling in here, did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said “Dead Nigger Storage”?
- Jimmie, you know I ain’t seen no…
- [cutting him off again; getting angry] Did you notice a sign out in front of my house that said “Dead Nigger Storage”?
- [pause] No. I didn’t.
- You know WHY you didn’t see that sign?
- ‘Cause it ain’t there, ’cause storing dead niggers ain’t my fucking business, that’s why!
Whether or not what we experienced was an According to Hoyle miracle is insignificant. What is significant is that I felt the touch of God. God got involved.
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