All right. You’re askin’ for it, Big Daddy. We’re finally goin’ to have that real, true talk you wanted. It’s too late to stop it now, we got to carry it through an’ cover ev’ry subject. Maggie declares that Skipper an’ I went into pro football after we left Ole Miss because we were scared to grow up, wanted to keep on tossin’ those long long, high, high passes that couldn’t be intercepted except by time, th’ aerial attack that made us famous! An’ so we did, we did, we kept it up for one season, that aerial attack. We held it high! Yeah, but–that summer Maggie, she laid down the law to me–she said now or never, and so I married Maggie. She went on the road that fall with th’ Dixie Stars. Oh, she made a great show of bein’ the world’s best sport. She wore a tall bearskin cap! A shake, they call it, a dyed moleskin coat, a moleskin coat dyed red. Cut up crazy! Rented hotel ball rooms for victory celebrations, wouldn’t cancel ’em when it turned out—defeat. Maggie the cat! But Skipper, he had some fever which came back on him which the doctors couldn’t explain, an’ I got that injury–turned out to be just a shadow on th’ X-ray plate, an’ a touch of bursitis. I lay in a hospital bed, watched our games on TV, saw Maggie on the bench next to Skipper when he was hauled out of the game for stumbles, fumbles!–burned me up the way she hung on his arm! Y’know I think that Maggie had always felt sort of left out, so she took this time to work on poor dumb Skipper! Poured in his mind the dirty, false idea that what we were, him an’ me was a frustrated case of ole sissyboys like Jack Straw an’ Peter Ochello! He, poor Skipper, went to bed with Maggie to prove it wasn’t true, an’ when it didn’t work out, he thought it was true! Skipper broke in two like a rotten stick–nobody ever turned so fast into a lush–or died of it so quick. Now–are you satisfied?