Eeny, Meany, Miny, Med, Crack A God On The Head, If It Squeals Kill It

by SaraG

Dear Diary,

The ministers are back, but they haven’t burnt anyone yet. Momma locked me up in my room so I wouldn’t get into fights with “those minister boys”, but Susan helped me out through the window and we went godhunting.

The ministers have shut down the Swindler’s market and taken old Beth to cus-to-dy (she’s the only one they could catch, ministers can’t run much). It’s sad about poor Beth but Momma says she was getting too old anyway.

Since the market is closed our mothers can’t sell the gods and we get to eat all the brains we want.

So, we caught a god up by the creek and I went eenie, meany, miny, med and Susan won, so she ate it. Then we caught another one and I ate it. We were playing all quiet and not bothering anyone, dear diary, so everything that happened afterwards wasn’t our fault. We were sharing the third (see, like good girls) when this minister boy pops up from behind the rocks and starts yelling and calling us cannibals.

“I didn’t call you no names!” I told him, but he kept at it, shouting that we were eating our baby-brothers.

“Oh, so now little gods are our baby-brothers,” said Susan. “And how would you know?”

The stupid minister boy started crying. “Because I remember. From when I was little.”

Well, I tell you, dear diary, we had enough of that nonsense. I took a rock and threw it at him, just to shut him up, but my aim is too good, even when I don’t pretend it to be and it hit him square on the mouth.

He blubbered like a little god, even though he was only bleeding a little and threatened to call the Inquisitives. And that’s when Susan punched him in the gut and we took off.

I slipped back into the room and Momma never knew that I was gone.

And that was that.

I sure hope that minister boy doesn’t tattle.