“I ain’t. You jus’ go ahead. You always gets sinful jus’ when hell’s a-poppin’.”
“I know it,” said Uncle John. “Always was that way. I never tol’ half the stuff I done.”
“Well, keep it to yaself.”
“These here nice toilets gets me sinful.”
“Go out in the bushes then. Come on, pull up ya pants an’ le’s get some sleep.” Pa pulled his overall straps in place and snapped the buckle. He flushed the toilet and watched thoughtfully while the water whirled in the bowl.
IT WAS STILL DARK when Ma roused her camp. The low night lights shone through the open doors of the sanitary units. From the tents along the road came the assorted snores of the campers.
Ma said, “Come on, roll out. We got to be on our way. Day’s not far off.” She raised the screechy shade of the lantern and lighted the wick. “Come on, all of you.”
The floor of the tent squirmed into slow action. Blankets and comforts were thrown back and sleepy eyes squinted blindly at the light. Ma slipped on her dress over the underclothes she wore to bed. “We got no coffee,” she said. “I got a few biscuits. We can eat ’em on the road. Jus’ get up now, an’ we’ll load the truck. Come on now. Don’t make no noise. Don’ wanta wake the neighbors.”
It was a few moments before they were fully aroused. “Now don’ you get away,” Ma warned the children. The family dressed. The men pulled down the tarpaulin and loaded up the truck. “Make it nice an’ flat,” Ma warned them. They piled the mattress on top of the load and bound the tarpaulin in place over its ridge pole.
“Awright, Ma,” said Tom. “She’s ready.” Ma held a plate of cold biscuits in her hand. “Awright. Here. Each take one. It’s all we got.”