Emmanuel sat imperiously in the center of the table, twisting his Oreo cookie with scrupulous care. He freed the chocolate top and ran his discerning tongue across the white patch of creamy confection, licking, then scraping it clean with his front teeth. The plain black disks, fallen from royal favor, were laid aside in a tidy pile.
“Is your Auntie Mari pretty? Auntie Mari is pretty, right?” Tobacco mingled with her cloying perfume.
He moved on to his sandwich without pause, discarding the bread, extracting the ham, and rolling it into a neat joint.
Stentorian. Sensible. Sagely. “Only insides matter, Auntie.”