In “June Recital,” a story I wrote laid in a small Mississippi town in the 1930s, a lady comes home from a Rook party to tell her little son what they had to eat:
“ ‘An orange scooped out and filled with orange juice, with the top put back on and decorated with icing leaves, a straw stuck in. A slice of pineapple with a heap of candied sweet potatoes on it, and a little handle of pastry. A cup made out of toast, filled with creamed chicken, fairly warm. A sweet peach pickle with flower petals around it of different-colored cream cheese. A swan made of a cream puff. He had whipped cream feathers, a pastry neck, green icing eyes. A pastry biscuit the size of a marble with a little date filling.’ She sighed abruptly.
‘Were you hungry, Mama?’ he said.”
—EUDORA WELTY
Image is licensed under CC By 4.0 — linked to lesalondumariage.be
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Somewhere along our homo sapien deoxy ribose nucleic acid genome woman took a sharp right turn. O my! The fun began.
Hahahaha!
GOOD ONE!