The next day of class Jasmine informed Mr. Hanks the dummy came back to attack her.
"What? Awww geez."
"I don't know what to do now."
"Apparently I don't either," he said.
"I think me and my momma goin to die soon, so don't be surprised if I don't show up to class tomorrow or never."
A thought just came to Mr. Hanks. "The act is not over yet."
"What?" She asked, with a baffled expression.
"I think we need to talk to a ventriloquist dummy expert."
"Where can we find one?"
"I don't know. Somewhere. Maybe in town."
"Mr. Hanks, you can't find no expert on dummies here. This is the hood. Don't no black person know nothin bout no dummy doll."
"There you go, just like your mother. Very stereotypical."
"What the hell that's supposed to mean Mr. Hanks?" She asked, crossing her arms.
"It means you can't go around judging a book by it's cover. Every culture does the same as others do. We are all humans."
"True."
"Just give me a day or two. I will see what I can search up."
"Thanks Mr. Hanks."
Mr. Hanks nods his head.When Jasmine left the classroom Mr. Hanks put his arms behind his head and leaned back in his seat. He was thinking on what he should do. "I don't know where to start. I don't know who to talk to about this. I know who I can talk to. Well let's start with Google, since Google is...