Urfa Sanliurfa's Bedouin Hammock

Urfa Sanliurfa liked Turkish candy, lolling the bitter sweet coffee flavored candies on the bed of her tongue. Her mother, a distant acquaintance of Lela’s great grandmamma, lived out the remaining years of a long grueling life (127 years, 27½ swinging in a Bedouin hammock tied between two sturdy posts) shucking peas and eating stickseed biscuits. On her 28th birthday Urfa Sanliurfa’s mamma soured on men, preferring the company of children and animals, dogs and cats, small penned swine and fowl, and when the winds blew crooked, dogmen and halfwits. Malm Skane and her swinish child Baby Lan, a mistake in logic and conjugation, lived in a one-room bedsit next to the Church of the Perpetual Sinner, the child’s ill temper causing a great deal of discernment among the townsfolk. Kakogawa Hyogo has a hanker for boiled cocks’ tongue with caramelized onions, shoveling mouthfuls of the placental gruel into the bitter maw of her face. Kakogawa Hyogo babysits the swinish child Baby Lan, changing his soiled nappies and feeding him goats’ milk from a gin bottle teat. The congregants of the church listened in worldly awe as Monsignor Fontenay-sous-Bois’ filled their black souls with hope and charity, slaking the thirst that so many had come to accept as their lot in life. Out behind the rector’s gin hut, where the rector’s assistant went to slake his own ungodly thirst, the littlest dogman sang a dirge, the wooden doors of the hut flapping open and shut like a well-used purse, a rank odor rising up from the bowl of the shitter.