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how it was properly done. I swallowed first, then said,

"I pity the wife you'll have. She'll divorce you within

a year."

He went on eating, deaf and dumb to everything

but enjoyment.

"Cathy," said Carrie, "don't be mean to Chris,

'cause we don't like cold food, anyway, so we don't

want to eat."

"My wife will adore me so much, she'll be

charmed to pick up my dirty socks. And Carrie, you

and Cory like cold cereal with raisins, so eat!" "We don't like cold turkey . . . and that brown

stuff on the potatoes looks funny."

"That brown stuff is called gravy, and it tastes

delicious. And Eskimos love cold food."

"Cathy, do Eskimos like cold food?"

"I don't know, Carrie. I suppose they'd better like

it, or starve to death." For the life of me, I couldn't

understand what Eskimos had to do with

Thanksgiving. "Chris, couldn't you have said

something better? Why bring up Eskimos?" "Eskimos are Indians. Indians are part of the

Thanksgiving Day tradition."

"Oh."

"You know, of course, the North American

continent used to be connected with Asia," he said

between mouthfuls. "Indians trekked over from Asia,

and some liked ice and snow so much, they just stayed

on, while others had better sense, and moved on

down."

"Cathy, what's this lumpy and bumpy stuff that

looks like Jell-O?"


Tags: V.C. Andrews Dollanganger Horror