Redneck Press with Fried Chicken and Coffee

Rita takes the baby, still scream­ing, from the tub of water, lays him on his back on the floor between her legs, kneads his stom­ach, fit to burst, with her fin­gers. Beside them, shards of soap, home­made sup­pos­i­to­ries. His face the color of cran­ber­ries, ton­sils rag­ing, he stiff­ens, bucks when she tries lift­ing his legs. […] ↓ Read the rest of this entry…