When my brother Billy was a kid, my parents dreaded hearing whatever might come out of  his mouth.  Daddy took him to the store with him one day.  As Billy stood on the top step, Daddy and his friend Mr. Shorty stood on the ground talking.  Billy happily reached over, patted Mr. Shorty affectionately on his bald head, and said, “Well hello, little, short fat man.”

Not long afterward, Mother looked out the kitchen window to see Daddy’s friend with one leg, Mr. Charley headed to the front door.  She rushed to the living room, trying to get there before Billy, could ask what happened to his other leg.  She was too late.  As she walked into the room, Biily turned from Mr. Charley at the door to tell her, “Mama, a skeeter bit his leg off!”

My cousin kept hitting Billy.  Mother told Billy to “hit hit back.”  The next time that kid showed up, Billy kept asking Mother, “Can I hit him now, Mama?  Can I hit him now?”