“Whut, boss, dat er man come fum er monkey?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, sir, but I ain’t put no faith in it.”
“Well, I do, William; I believe that Darwin was right, and I have come to this belief since I parted with my appendix.”
“Don’t tell me, boss!”
“It is this way about your appendix,” I declared, “the man who is fartherest removed from the monkey has the smallest appendix and is most liable to have the appendicitis, and the closest, has the largest. As one becomes more civilized his appendix decreases. The doctors, on making the incision in my abdomen, found that I had a very small appendix, so small, in fact, that it became stopped and inflamed.
“I should say that if your friend, Rastus Johnsing, over there, were opened it would be discovered that his vermiform appendix is as large as my arm and as long as a rolling pin. Your appendix, or that of any ordinary, dark-hued negro, is about the size of a common guano horn.”
“Humph! My Gawd! How come?”
“How come? Because your race is not more than 200 years from the monkey. I would not be surprised if your great-great grandfather did not run wild in the forests of Africa, living off of bugs and other insects. You know, as I sit back there at my desk every day and watch you climb over this grill and brush off the dust, I feel sorry for you. You like to climb—so does anyone not far from the monkey. In the course of 2,000 years the negro will begin to have appendicitis, long after the white people lose theirs.”