The Exorsistah by Claudia Mair Burney

Author:Claudia Mair Burney
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2008-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

I walked between Father Miguel and Francis, wondering if the grouchy old priest might insult me all the way into the house. Instead, he asked me if there was anything they could do to make me more comfortable.

I wanted to stay, “Stop acting like I’m a pole dancer Francis brought home and treat me with some respect.” Instead I rolled with the strained effort he made to be more hospitable, more for Francis’s sake than his.

We went inside the bungalow without further incident, and right away I caught the delectable scent of fried chicken, greens, and some kind of pie emanating from Penny Pop’s kitchen. My mouth watered so much I almost drooled on myself.

Francis went to wash his hands, and I followed. I thought I’d wait outside the door, but he beckoned me to come in—door open—and promptly splashed me with a spray of water from his drenched hands.

I got him back good, and the only thing that kept us from Water War I was Penny Pop, who must have heard our giggles and started fussin’ from the kitchen.

“Don’t y’all be in there playin’ ’round. You got to eat my food while it’s hot. Now, my fried chicken ain’t bad cold, but the rest ’a this stuff’ll be hit if you let it get cold. And I can’t be warming up food ’cuz folks is playin’ when it’s time to eat.”

“You heard, Penny Pop,” I said, flicking a few more droplets in his face.

“I’m gonna get you back,” he said, grinning.

“If I stick around that long.”

An expression of mock serious appeared on his face. “You don’t know the day or the hour when my vengeance will come.”

“Then I’ll dip in forty-five minutes and miss the day and hour altogether.”

We let our noses and appetites lead us to the kitchen, where right away Francis made a big production out of ribbing Penny Pop about her cooking style.

“Sistah Pop, do you have any meaningful concept of cooking without pork? Every time you put on a pot of greens I find some poor sow’s foot or other body part floating inside it.”

“Boy, that’s the food of our ancestors. We couldn’t eat the good part of a pig, uhn-uhn. Wasn’t no ham or pork chops for lowly slaves. We had to eat low on the hog, while them other folks ate high on it.”

He’d heard that speech before. Francis mouthed the “low on the hog,” and “high on the hog” part along with Penny Pop.

She caught him and hit him with a pot holder. “And don’tchu go to telling me you part Latino again. ’Cause they be eating pig, too.”

“But Sistah Pop,” he said, “I think you be putting ham hocks and a little bit of drippings in the cold breakfast cereal.”

Penny Pop paid him no mind, obviously used to that kind of pre-dinner banter. “Boy, I been cooking since before you was born, and you need to mind yo’ bit’ness.”

Frances kept their verbal dance going by begging her not to overcook all the vegetables.

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