Verbal Psychodelia

A couple of times a year I get a strong craving for southern food. Last weekend I felt a craving coming on, and Wednesday I purchased fresh catfish, cornmeal and collards. With the meager frying-capable equipment I have, it takes a long time to make fried foods at my house. I could not wait for the catfish and hushpuppies and nice soggy leaf. The boys especially love hushpuppies.

I warned the boys that they must stay away from the kitchen while I had hot oil on the stove, and they were admirably obedient as I began cooking. After the sound and aroma of the frying hushpuppies wafted through the open floorplan, Tyke shouted from the computer corner

Mom, are you making hippiepops, or whatever they're called?

I give up. Apparently the southern gene has become recessive.