Alan Gribben he dun wrote a nutter version uh ole Huck Finn where he struck the niggers and put slaves whar dey used to be. Fer 'zample, dis meet'n tween Huck and Jim when dey meet by accident on a island in de Rivuh cuz dey bofs be hightailin' it. Jim be tellin' Huck 'bout how he got away:
" 'Well, you see, it 'uz dis way. Ole Missus--dat's Miss Watson--she pecks on me all de time, en treats me pooty rough, but she awluz said she wouldn' sell me down to Orleans. But I noticed day wuz a nigger (heah's whea Massuh Alan dun stuck in de slave 'stead uv de nigger, and he dun it, dey tells me, two hund'd times in Massuh Twain's book) trader roun' de place considable, lately, en I begin to git oneasy. Well, one night I creeps to de do' pooty late, en de do 'warn't quite shet, en I hear ole missus tell de widder she gwyne to sell me down to Orleans, but she didn' want to, but she could git eight hund'd dollars for me, en it 'uz sich a big stack o' money she couldn'resis'. De widder she try to git her to say she wouldn' do it, but I never waited to hear de res'. I lit out mighty quick, I tell you...' "
So you may wan' git a copy o' dis new version, sanitized like, and p'liticly correct an' awl, an' reads it fo yo'self.
Den, you might could pick up from Amazon a nutter new novel 'bout life up and down de Missip-- little bit updated but not too much. Like, where Robby, microbiologist grad student, he be drivin', in chapter 2, 'long de Rivuh road, near de place in Luzianna where Huck and Jim ended up. Fer 'zample:
This bend on the river road always kindled Robby's imagination. The lonely antebellum columns, man-formed as they were and so stakly incongruent in the overgrowing wildness, remained as silent, stubborn monoliths, superfluous sentries guarding the lost opulence of a plantation culture that had turned to ashes generations ago. Honeysuckle, ivy and scrubby saplings now ruled the spot from whence Colonel Theseus had commanded his legion of slaves and later sharecroppers. Surrounding the old mansion's skeletal array were hundreds of acres: dark, delta loam fermenting microbial memory of black feet whose calloused heels and toes traversed row upon thousandth row of King Cotton's scurrilous servitude.
We sho'nuff be glad dem dark days is over!