Demon Copperhead

by Barbara Kingsolver

Anybody will tell you the born of this world are marked from the get-out, win or lose.

People love to believe in danger, as long as it’s you in harm’s way, and them saying bless your heart.

Melungeon,

Maggot calmed me down by explaining Bible stories were a category of superhero comic. Not to be confused with real life.

The world is not at all short on this type of thing, it turns out. All down the years, words have been flung like pieces of shit, only to get stuck on a truck bumper with up-yours pride. Rednecks, moonshiners, ridge runners, hicks. Deplorables.

Melungeon,”

Supposedly that was a disease, and I had it. If I wanted to move

If you’re standing on a small pile of shit, fighting for your one place to stand, God almighty how you fight.

It hit me pretty hard, how there’s no kind of sad in this

world that will stop it turning. People will keep on wanting what they want, and you’re on your own.

caul,”

raising Cain

Sunday school stories are just another type of superhero comic. Counting on Jesus to save the day is no more real than sending up the Batman signal.

grateese

nefrotism.

Never be mean in anything. Never be false. Never be cruel. I can always be hopeful of you.

This is what I would say if I could, to all smart people of the world with their dumb

hillbilly jokes: We are right here in the stall. We can actually hear you.

“Certain pitiful souls around here see whiteness as their last asset that hasn’t been totaled or repossessed.”