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jacob smokes. bail.



Learning to Fall: hoosegow.
"Just try it," he said, grunting each time the ball hit his bare hands, tossing it back to me.

Uncle Jacob was trying to teach me how to throw with my left arm--throw and catch, actually.

"But my cast comes off in a week and I'll be able to use my right again." I tossed the ball wide, almost over his head hard to the right. He jumped high in the air and caught it, grunting, just like Momma grunts when she gets up from gardening. I tell ya', them bein' twins is somethin' else.

Then he explained it to me. He told me that throwing, or learning to throw, or row or write or anything with my weak hand will make me smarter. And it'll make doin' the same thing with my strong hand, my dominant hand, it'll make it go better. We'll see.

A cop car pulled up just when my left hand throws stopped looking like a girls and started looking like a first grade boy's.

"Mr. Allred," the cop said to Uncle Jacob. Allred is Momma's maiden name. "We need you to come with us, answer a few questions."







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jacob smokes. bail.




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