Mirabelle walked through the French doors of the grand old plantation house, into the sultry evening heat, and saw John, gazing blankly and, it seemed to her, longingly out over the lawns and oaks, the slaves busily tending to the grounds.
"John?"
He appeared lost in his thoughts, mint julep in hand, condensation rolling meandering down the silver cup like tears. It seemed to her as though his expression conveyed a deep, but long since muddled and hazy, desire for something that he hadn’t seen or had in a very long time. She approached him quietly. She could tell he felt her presence. He made no acknowledgment, but took another long pull on the silver straw, and gave forth a heavy sigh.
John stared into his cup, gently swirling the remains, contemplating the prospect of another, and answered her question:
"Poontang".
[Author's note: It's going to take me a long time to write a book this way.]
3 comments:
Was "poontang" southern vernacular for beaver in pre civil war times?
I believe you must write using the emotions of your own experiences. Does your wife know how you feel?
The etymology of "poontang" is unclear. Probably the most popular theory is that it originally hails from Louisiana and the French word - putain "whore". However, the connection to putain is based mostly on conjecture, because of the similarity of the French word to the English one. Some etymologists specializing in slang think that the word more likely derives from a Chinese language, as there are variant forms like "poon tai" and "poon kai". See also "poonanny".
As for the emotions of my own experiences, of course that is from whence I write. As for my wife knowing how I feel, I can only assume i feel faintly hairy and slightly clammy...
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