” I ask. Every other day, Auntie Mabel tells me that my hair is too thin and that she would like it thicker, but after two days of constant attention, I am covered in a thick layer of oil and flour.
“You smell awful! You stink!” She bursts out. “Why don’t you ever bathe? Why do we have to live with this stench all the time? It makes my eyes water just looking at you! Get yourself cleaned up right now or go back home where you belong. These people are ignorant fools who can eat dirt for breakfast and still think they smell nice—and if your father knew what was good for him he would send us back there so fast your head would spin! We wouldn’t be treated so shabbily as we are here on our own little island, trapped with nothing but these savages forever and ever and no one to help us anymore because how dare we stand up to those white devils who refuse to allow us any rights at all! Now get away from me before I throw myself into the ocean with God knows what kind of parasite inside of me or else I will make sure they know exactly why their dead carcasses won’t be found floating anywhere around out here next time someone comes along; yes sir, somebody is going to find those bodies floating by themselves for miles downriver when nobody has any idea how long it took them to die alone without anyone