The idle ramblings of a Jack of some trades, Master of none

May 31, 2012

Saintly Gas

From the sublime to the bathetic in Jorge Amado's The War of the Saints.
She put down the milk pitcher and picked up the coffee pot. Adalgisa didn't serve a full dinner as an evening meal; at most it was a bowl of soup, thin chicken broth. They were usually content with café au lait, bread, butter, and two or three side dishes: sweet cassava, yams, breadfruit, cassava or corn cakes, tapioca couscous, sponge cake, or fried cottage cheese. Danilo was crazy about sweet potatoes, but Adalgisa prepared them only rarely; they were gassy and Danilo, with age, was getting farty. Any event that took him off his daily routine affected his intestines. That was happened on that Thursday night. The dissension had upset him, and he couldn't hold back his vigorous and loud discharge of farts. 
"What's this, Danilo? At the dinner table! Have you no shame?"


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