Not to mention the whole damn town gets cursed
he doesn’t just DIE, he’s lynched because the Gaston-equivalent sees them together and the whole town is horribly racist and that’s why she starts killing people
I WILL DEFEND THESE TWO TO THE GRAVE
When Daddy comes in, he carries you to bed. Is there anything you feel like you could eat, Pokey? Anything at all?
All you can imagine putting in your mouth is a cold plum, one with really tight skin on the outside but gum-shocking sweetness inside. And he and your mother discuss where he might find some this late in the season. Mother says hell I don’t know. Further north, I’d guess.
The next morning, you wake up in your bed and sit up. Mother says, Pete, I think she’s up. He hollers in, You ready for breakfast, Pokey. Then he comes in grinning, still in his work clothes from the night before. He’s holding a farm bushel. The plums he empties onto the bed river toward you through folds in the quilt. If you stacked them up, they’d fill the deepest bin at the Piggly Wiggly.
Damned if I didn’t get the urge to drive to Arkansas last night, he says.
Your mother stands behind him saying he’s pure USDA crazy.
Fort Smith, Arkansas. Found a roadside stand out there with a feller selling plums. And I says, Buddy, I got a little girl sick back in Texas. She’s got a hanker for plums and ain’t nothing else gonna do.
It’s when you sink your teeth into the plum that you make a promise. The skin is still warm from riding in the sun in Daddy’s truck, and the nectar runs down your chin.
And you snap out of it. Or are snapped out of it. Never again will you lay a hand against yourself, not so long as there are plums to eat and somebody-anybody-who gives enough of a damn to haul them to you. So long as you bear the least nibblet of love for any other creature in this dark world, though in love portions are never stingy. There are no smidgens or pinches, only rolling abundance. That’s how you acquire the resolution for survival that the coming years are about to demand. You don’t earn it. It’s given.”
MY GRANDMA GOT ALL A’S IN “ETIQUETTE” (YES THAT WAS AN ACTUAL CLASS IN HER HIGH SCHOOL) AND SHE TOLD ME, “DEAR,” SHE SAID,
“YOU NEVER CROSS YOUR LEGS, YOU CROSS YOUR ANKLES. BUT THE GREAT THING ABOUT YOU LIVING IN THIS GENERATION IS YOU DON’T HAVE TO FOLLOW MY GENERATION’S RULES. SIT THE WAY YOU WANT. IF SOMEONE LOOKS UP YOUR SKIRT, JUST TELL THEM YOUR AUNT MARY WILL KILL THEM.”
WHICH IS TRUE
MY AUNT MARY HAD A SWITCHBLADE IN A SPECIAL POCKET OF HER NIGHTGOWN UNTIL THE DAY SHE DIED
the moral of this story is
1. Sit the way you want.
2. My great aunt Mary was a fucking badass.
"hey steve, did you see the funny thing? steve? steve?"
Are we just going to ignore Clara?
This is the moment Clara decided she wanted a vehicle that could fly through time and space…