Write a comparison.

Two peas in a pod, that’s what Uncle Chester says to mama. I’m thinking: what the hell does that old curmudgeon know? Callie ain’t book smart but she’s sexy and cunning–a whole heap of trouble tucked inside a single, pretty wrapper.

Callie drinks. If the folks in this house didn’t smoke like industrial coal burners, they’d know she sneaks out to smoke, too. And the men…let me tell you all about them. I swear that girl sexes the men folk as if she were a dat-burn mare all crazy with heat.

The fellas do seem to love my sister, though. I seen ’em buy her things. Mostly trinkets, but sometimes she gets diamonds or pearl earrings. She really likes the pearls and starts crying whenever mama takes them to sell.

Two peas in a pod, Uncle Lester agrees with a nod. The fool grins and winks at me. The gap between them front teeth turns his mouth into an airplane hangar. For a moment, I dream of parking my fist in it. Honestly, I think the man needs to clean them fancy glasses of his. First time I ever smoked was the very last; I swear I was queasy-green for weeks afterwards. Booze ain’t nothin’ but devil piss. It stinks to high-heaven and I’m s’posed to drink it?

Speaking of all things foul, I’d rather be gut shot and left to die than wear any of those frilly, froufrou dresses Callie adores. I mean, really, who the hell can climb trees in a stupid dress? Really, it ain’t for me.

And see, the men folk have learned better than to try to sex me up. Them that do try just get belted in the nose. Broke me a knuckle doing it once, too. Seein’ how I don’t have fair skin or Callie’s light eyes, mostly now they just leave me be.

Mama accuses me of being dark and morose. She don’t curse Callie none for her wickedness but she’ll sure as hell take a switch to my backside if she gets the itch. If you asked me, I’d just tell you the woman is done cracked. Why, ain’t neither one of those molester twins really my uncle. Callie and me like two peas in a pod? Like hell!