“Are you thirsty?” she asked.
“Like a camel,” Henry said.
She led him to a chair by the window. Then she went to the kitchen, wishing she had something better than water to serve. She filled a glass.
“Are you hungry?” Food, she had.
“Like a camel that hasn’t eaten anything in days.”
“Ham or casserole?”
“No self-respecting camel eats casserole. It could contain a relative.”
―
Martha Brockenbrough,
The Game of Love and Death