20. The Grease Of Our Elders

Simple delights do not come simple. Even an orange juice, before its juicy demise, first blistered the picker’s palm, stung the eyes of the orangist. Eyes wept, and teeth gnashed for your thirst. Mmmph, there is a sloshing of misery integral to all aqueous liquids, and don’t get me started on syrups and pastes. Invocation Psalm: “Chintub’s Celebration” Liturgical Reading: “The Grease of Our Elders” Concluding Prayer Some adults never grow adult teeth. Just gotta make do with little teeth in little mouths—I tell ya straight, I swear. Some of em have little hands too, little bodies. They can’t walk, and can’t grow hair cept the baby sort. Some folks say, “fella, thems’re just babies,” but I can’t know truth. Not no more, nuh uh.