Southern Atheist Belle

never did like the southern accent, no matter how gorgeous the lady was whose mouth it was coming out of--- always had a preference for the NYC toughness or the sophisticated- car-commercial-intense langue des Londoniens & to be truthful, it wasn’t the accent but the christ that bubbled out from the mouths of every individual he encountered whilst sweltering in the haze of Tennessee or the stale hot of Texas & yet, in retrospect, he wondered if the drawl was something that might be spiced up with a bit of Atheism--- that is to say that if a bodacious GRITS, a statuesque sweet potato queen, was sitting in a café or perhaps standing next to a pool table in the local dive & rather than quoting scripture or babbling about the baby jesus, asking what church one belonged to or fondling the 18 karat crucifix tied round her neck (how young sexy christian thangs flirt) when come upon by a strapping young interested lad, she changed things up a bit by saying “yew know, gawd is dead.”--- this would be a wondrous occasion.