The Pundit from Pitt, Chapter 1
I was born at the heart o' the tobacco fields in Pitt County, North Carolina, where folks all start smokin' when they turn two.
So by the time I was five when Daddy and Mamma and each of us thirteen siblins gone to visit Uncle Udder in the Lung Cancer Ward over at The Pitt County Health Institute, I was done past a pack a day.
But on seein' my very own kin ate up--why, that was the moment I first growed kind o' logical.
Though tryin' to think clear-like in that there cancer facility won't right easy, what with all them screams and such.
Back home at the trailer that mornin', I sat the baby down in her cardboard box and pulled up a stool. "Miss Sis," I said, draggin' on a cig, "Now that you done turned two, you needs make sure you don't end up like poor Uncle Udder in that cancer ward."
And I figured she done got my meanin' when she peed herself.
But that afternoon durin' supper 'round the television set when all the smokes was lit up, and before I could even holler out an objection, Daddy done passed the baby his butt, and she was squattin' there a-blowin' perfect O's.
And my intelligence! By the time we was each done smokin' off a pack at the commercial and a-headin' on into the kitchen for another carton with a second case o' beer, Miss Sis done learnt every last one of us how to blow them O's right near as good as her!