Momma paid him no nevermind, busying herself with chores, and to the library where she filed for Myrna Goose three days per week - a little extra money on top of welfare. She'd come home real tired, but strangely go straight to the pantry, open an expensive can of red-colored cat food into a saucer for Jayzus Murphy, our big old black cat, which I somehow thought extravagant, for normally Murph thrived on varmints, birds, and table scraps. Mom later placed the unfinished food high on a shelf there which bothered me considering the flies, maggots and all, though I never did question the peculiarities of it. School work and drama was about all I could manage. In the meantime, I heard that four more unfortunates had gone to heaven from the water disease.
Folks come and go, as our pastor put it.
Some get to heaven a little early, is all, and God awards them with special golden wings for their inconvenience. Rustle me some breakfast, I'm sick of you and your lazy hide. Without flinching, Momma went to the kitchen. I'll make you eggs, and put them on some of that fried hash we had for supper. I could hear her scraping and rattling dishes, rustling in the pantry.