yame by Unknown Page B

stuff, Noot was a good person." You look right at your trussed and straining daughter. "You, on the other hand, ain't never been a good person, and that's just how it is sometimes. Ain't no reason fer it. Don't got nothin' ta do with how you was raised or where ya lived or who ya been exposed to, you's're just a bad person. It's how you was born —
    "No, Mama!"
    "I loved Noot more'n all else on this earth, dear. He was my everything..." You continue to smile warmly at her. "And now you go'n muss it all up —
    "Aw, Mama, please! I'se sorry!"
    You pat her cheek. "Don't worry, baby. I ain't blamin' you —like I said, the way people is ain't always their fault..."
    The bed jerks from Linette's hitching sobs.
    You turn to the door. "Blubber? Why'n'choo come on in now?"
    Slow steady thuds thunk into the room, and with those thuds come a pungent stench, like armpits, unwashed crotches, urine, feces-smeared underpants, the clefts of dirty butt-cracks —all those odors distilled down to one.
    Blubber Smitts stands in the doorway, mouth open as if waiting for something. He's barefoot, cockeyed, and bald. He's possessed of numerous congenital defects, while some glandular disorder has made him obese, with a mammoth belly pushing out beneath the overalls he has likely never changed. Satchels of fat on his chest look like a slovenly woman's breasts; more satchels dangle under his arms, and there's even a staircase of fat rolls climbing up his neck. One iris is red, the other brown. He has no body hair at all, and his lower lip sags fat as a piece of kielbasa.
    "Hi, there, Blubber," you say. "Thanks fer doin' that work fer me."
    Blubber stares at Linette, and utters something like, "Gug-gug-gurrrrwwwwww'l come..."
    Linette wails, "Mama! What you bring that big dirty retart in here for? He stinks ta high Heaven! He ain't warshed ever in his life!"
    "Now don't'cha go bad-mouthin'," you say. "Blubber's just diffurnt, honey, 'cos what nature deal him were a tad less than it deal ta most'a us. See, his mama were a alkee and drunk all the time she were pregnant with the boy, so it buggered him all up. But he's a nice boy —
    Linette rocks in her bonds. "He's a big dirty fat cracker, Mama! He's a white-trash retart who lives in a old out-house! He eats skunks'n bullfrogs raw —I seen him! I even seen him eat possum shit! And he walk 'round in the woods all day'n night playin' with hisself! He eats his own nut, Mama! Why you bring him here?"
    You keep smiling in spite of her rancor. Yes, Linette is such an awful person to harbor all this ill-will against someone so unfortunate. "I hired Blubber ta do some work fer me, is all."
    "Work!" your daughter bellows. "That don't make no sense! What work? He's too retarded to do work!"
    You tisk. It's so sad. "You're just so full up with hate, Linette. I cain't imagine where I went so wrong bringin' ya up. All that hate is just smolderin' off yer face..." You pat Blubber's shoulder. "Linette, I don't imagine you 'member Grandpop Orne 'cos he die when you was just a tiddler. But Grandpop, he were as full'a wisdom'n goodness as you's full'a hatred'n lies. One time he say ta me, he say, 'Easter, sometimes a bad person can redeem theirself by doin' somethin' generous fer a good person in need. Tis a way of turnin' a curse inta a blessing.."'
    Tendons in Linette's neck stand out like wires as she glares. "What'choo talkin' 'bout!"
    "And it's true Blubber have ta beat hisself off a lot but that's only 'cos he got the natural urges like any fella but on account'a the way nature made him, gals won't be with him in the sexual way." You turn to Blubber who remains standing there automaton-like, staring at Linette's straining, naked body. "Blubber, you ain't never got on with a gal before —you know—in this way? By puttin' yer peter in here?" and then you pat Linette's furred sex. "Never, right?"
    Blubber's bald head is popping beads of sweat. "Nuh-nuh-nuh-nuguh-ngnnnnnoooo," comes the twisted grunt.
    "Would