“Whadda ya think, yeah gotta go to university ta understand? You all think yer so high an’ mighty, yer all ajecated an’ smart, well lemme tell yeah, yer more a slut than I ever put my eyes on!”

“Let no man judge you in eating, Colossians, 2–16.”

“Don’t you play no holy mouth with me, ya nasty cunt!”

“One [man] has faith to eat everything, but the [man] who is weak eats vegetables. Let the one eating not look down on the one not eating, and let the one not eating not judge the one eating, Romans 14:2, 14:3.”

“Shut yer mouth, you stinkin’ sperm bag!” She gave my head another more forceful tug backwards; unfortunately, she was pulling the silver chain of my crucifix as well as my hair. “Tell me how it all happened, I’m curious t’hear yer vursion. Tell me why ya picked ’im? You knew he had a big one, ya could smell it a mile away, couldn’t ya? Was that yer criterion? You teased him ’til you was certain? You was just starin’ at it in the mirror, dying t’have it, wasn’t ya?”

“If truly you are intent on learning the particularities, Madame, since I was a child, I never was one to clear my plate, so I assure you, I couldn’t care less how big the portion is.”

I never saw a face so sceptical when hearing the truth spoken. She looked down at my hair dress, crinkled her nose in disgust, and pulled my hair mercilessly. I was certain the silver chain was going to cut my throat, when it all of a sudden broke, and the tiny Jesus fell into the cleavage of my breasts.

“If you’ll forgive me, Madame, I left something on the stove … and I really must be going …”

Grass seeds had been planted around the building, but the grass had not yet grown; normally we weren’t allowed to be standing where we were. I looked down and saw my silver chain, long and fine, a shiny scar across the earth, a tiny food chain, a food chain Jesus was an integral part of.

“Don’t give me no fuckin’ cop-out! I asked you a question an’ I wanna answer now!”

“Would you terribly mind restating it more specifically?”

“Why in hell did ya choose my husband?!”

“I assure you, I did not choose him. I did not even sample him. There is all of him still available for you.”

“You think he was good ta play with, an’ now ya throw him back like scraps! Like a bone ta an ol’ dog!”

“Scraps? I didn’t even get a mouthful! If he came home stripped, it wasn’t me!”

It was not easy for me to concentrate on what she was saying; however, I did pick up a few of her claims: her husband was to be vaccinated for rabies because of me, I was financially responsible, and was not to escape into thin air. At this point, I fell to the ground for her hold on my throat was depriving me not only of words, but of oxygen. She withdrew my wallet from my red vinyl handbag and extracted my student identification card from it. Something about it quelled her instantaneously. I noticed her thumb touching her fingertips until she was convinced of a number. She glimpsed at the fifty dollars I intended to spend, but did not separate me from it.