Ever time I's walkin' Momma, peoples is stoppin' an' sayin', why, that bees a mighty fine lookin' boxer what ya gots there! I used of thunk, ain't you a sharp-eyed bag a rice! Momma ain't no boxer. But then Momma tole me what they's talkin' 'bout me. How the haystack do everbody knows what I bees a boxer, Momma, I axed her. Well, when I finded out what boxers all looks the same one to the nother one; that bees when I besided for to turn Gotholick. So now I is lookin' all black an' sad an' mad an' artsy fartsy for to be a different self a my own. Which, Betsy sayed I is a idiot. So I tole her, a least I don't looks like you no more; I looks Gotholick.  Then she sayed what I prawly don't even knows what Gotholick bees apposed of look like. HA! I tole her. I KNOWS I looks Gotholick; acause Gotholicky folks all looks the sa..a... I quitted right there an' jus' tole her to shut up astead. I hates girls.