My mother, an Alabama native, was full of stories with morals. Some of them I hear with modern ears.
There was a man, Hiram, in town who was just lazy. From time to time, someone would help him, or get him a job, but his laziness always got in the way. After a while, people gave up on him, because he never changed. He wouldn't stick with anything, and he refused to take any more jobs. His condition got worse and worse.
One day, Deacon Smith was driving his wagon, full of ears of corn, when he saw Hiram lying in a clump of grass by the side of the road. He was emaciated, ragged and dirty, apparently close to the end. Deacon Smith thought he would try one more time.
"Brother Hiram, If you like, I will give you this entire load of corn."
Hiram raised his head. "Is it shucked?"
"No."
"Drive on."
To my grandmother's generation, this was a warning of what happens to "lazy" children if they aren't careful. To me, it sounds like the story of a man who seriously needs Prozac and therapy.
Imagine Southern accent.
Betty Sue, standing in front of the mirror, fiddling with her hair:
"Momma, am I pretty?
"BettySue, there's nothing wrong with the way you look."
"But Momma, am I PRETTY?"
"BettySue, you're pretty enough for any decent purpose!"
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