Little Jimmy Bean was the apple of all his family’s eye. He was a sweet little toddler, bare feet and jean overalls, chasing the chickens and the pigs his daddy still kept even though he’d gone to work in the mill over yonder.
Everyone loved Jimmy Bean and Jimmy loved everyone. Except when he didn’t. Jimmy was a delight to be around. Until he wasn’t. When Jimmy got mad, he killed people.
At first, they didn’t realize it was Jimmy. Aunt Melba made him cry when she wouldn’t give him a third cookie. That night Melba had a myocardial infarction and passed away.
Uncle Joe in his grief snapped at Jimmy. Jimmy wailed and the next morning as he rose from bed Joe had a massive stroke. He died a week later in hospital.
It wasn’t until daddy had his first reason to break out the paddle that momma got suspicious. She watched the whole thing go down. Jimmy had talked back to her after dinner and stomped his foot. Daddy Bean said that’s enough, he’s old enough to get paddled, and got the paddle out of the closet. The same paddle his daddy’d paddled him with. As he bent Jimmy Bean over his knee, momma saw that face, she saw Jimmy’s eyes turn brown to grey. She saw his skin get red hot. And she heard that awful wail.
Daddy Bean gave him just one whack across the buttocks that night, but the next morning he got into some machinery at the mill and the foreman had to drive to Jimmy’s house and tell his momma he was gone. It was a closed casket funeral.