Southern Marsey

On your knees, bucko. Someone shoulda broke you a long, long time ago. I have nary met a buck I can't break with this here long and mighty dingus! I tell ye back in aught-4 I met a real mean one. He had big, air stealing nostrils, monstrous, boot lips, muscles that rippled under his cobalt skin so it’d look like a nest’a snakes as he’d be twisting here and yonder. T’was an older gentleman, the owner d’ye ken?, that had hired me to break this particular buck. Was some half-dozen breakers what had tried and failed! I tracked this moon cricket, this big-assed baboon, by fallerin’ the sounds of his impressive proud buttocks, clapping as he capered to and fro on the western half of yon gentleman’s land. There he be, proud as a darn peapeepee, black slave’s body framed by yon settin’ sun, just begging to be broke. I approached from the east, heading westerly way. Took him unawares as he were sat alone out front a shack, mending a loincloth or some such. Knocking him to his glistening buttocks produced a thund’rus CLAP, and I mounted from the front. I tell ye boy, but that buck began to FIGHT! This unbroken, proud negro was ornery I tell ye, but I ain't ne'er been denied, d'ya ken it? I had my peepee out in an instant as he scrambled onto his black belly and began ta’ wrigglin’ this way and that. And bucko did he began to wail! As loud as prairie lightning he were. This buck could tell the breaking was coming, could tell his time was up, and I tell ye, he did BUCK. This obstinate cur could turn on a dime and give ye some change! I tell ye as the winds were my witness, he were a right sunfish, struggling and flopping as he did, gyrating his unbroken black anus and dodging my breaker man’s meat. But he broke, and I finished the job. D’ye ken? That buck broke. Say sorry, boy. But they all break. By the man Jesus and his snowy white pappy, now say hallelujah, boy, you'll break, too!

Yup. I reckon that there Marsey is pooping in tall cotton.

I got a version without the smoke

student athletes? hoohoo, that is brilliant sir!

I sent him a small reward of 2000 dramacoin

well this one here needs a fan and a white monogrammed handkerchief to mop up his sweat but if it was a rural boy he needs a lip full of dip n the slack jawed countenance that shows he done come from in breeding

Nothing to see here, move along

On your knees, bucko. Someone shoulda broke you a long, long time ago. I have nary met a buck I can't break with this here long and mighty dingus! I tell ye back in aught-4 I met a real mean one. He had big, air stealing nostrils, monstrous, boot lips, muscles that rippled under his cobalt skin so it’d look like a nest’a snakes as he’d be twisting here and yonder. T’was an older gentleman, the owner d’ye ken?, that had hired me to break this particular buck. Was some half-dozen breakers what had tried and failed! I tracked this moon cricket, this big-assed baboon, by fallerin’ the sounds of his impressive proud buttocks, clapping as he capered to and fro on the western half of yon gentleman’s land. There he be, proud as a darn peapeepee, black slave’s body framed by yon settin’ sun, just begging to be broke. I approached from the east, heading westerly way. Took him unawares as he were sat alone out front a shack, mending a loincloth or some such. Knocking him to his glistening buttocks produced a thund’rus CLAP, and I mounted from the front. I tell ye boy, but that buck began to FIGHT! This unbroken, proud negro was ornery I tell ye, but I ain't ne'er been denied, d'ya ken it? I had my peepee out in an instant as he scrambled onto his black belly and began ta’ wrigglin’ this way and that. And bucko did he began to wail! As loud as prairie lightning he were. This buck could tell the breaking was coming, could tell his time was up, and I tell ye, he did BUCK. This obstinate cur could turn on a dime and give ye some change! I tell ye as the winds were my witness, he were a right sunfish, struggling and flopping as he did, gyrating his unbroken black anus and dodging my breaker man’s meat. But he broke, and I finished the job. D’ye ken? That buck broke. Say sorry, boy. But they all break. By the man Jesus and his snowy white pappy, now say hallelujah, boy, you'll break, too!

What if he's the Thomas Sutpen type of Southerner?

Wrong type of Southerner. Lynching would be unmannerly. Good God, don't speak of such awful things.