The neighborhoods south of McDowell are eating Susan tonight.
This is no joke.
Would you like a nice moo cow coming in your yard? With all the trimmings? Susan was as big as a cow and that likened her.
It was logical.
She worked nights and came home in the day. Her car vented smoke like a blue volcano. She put the pedal down and erupted from a distance.
At dawn you looked out your window for the fire. Chickens stirred their stripes. Voices ran like sirens. Crowds gathered on walks. Widows did business in directions. But the fire engines never came.
Susan drove in the midst. Arms waved. Voices greeted her glowing. Dust settled. It was Tuesday. That's what routine will do. The neighbors were watching her. You'd have done different?
The fence rows of that house surrounded Susan. She could still live in a building like you or me. Some modifications had been made, doors widened, foundations reinforced. Her chair was a two-story bed. One wall sagged in the corner of the floor. The little red phone was dinging. The phone was dinging. The goats were gossiping. You ate Susan and think this an exaggeration?
Science has long proven that the homogenous ecoplasm called earth affects everything else.
Susan lived where no white person should have dared, shortened down to the nubbin, parceled out by the bone! They saw her largess and loved her, mountain and plain. Word went home.
Come to Susan's!
Kindreds gathered. She pulled to the curb in her red car smoking to appreciative murmurs.
Peepo storked and Lydia cried.
Men in potato sacks around 7-11's tramped out of their boxes for the view.