Greg Brown

InaBell Sale

Greg Brown


InaBell is dead, Savior, and we pray that Thou wouldst give us the strength 
to lift her and carry her to her grave.  InaBell is dead, and, Jesus, we'll 
never again hear her gravel-on-the-window voice, her tail-in-the-door 
voice.  We'll never again see her goiter shake like an old apple in a 
windstorm.  InaBell is dead and gone home to Thee, oh Precious 
Lord.  Welcome her with open arms and spread 'em wide.  She's dead, oh 
Precious Lamb, we're sure of it this time.  She went over in her kitchen 
with a thud, scattering her Chicken Surprise for her ill-tempered, little, 
pop-eyed, slobbering dog, who ate most of it.  InaBell is dead and gone and 
left us here to carry on and carry her big, fat, annoying ass out to the 
grave and bury her deep so she won't get up even in dreams to HOLLER HER 
INSANE SHIT AT US!  THANK YOU, JESUS!  THANK YOU, LORD, FOR TAKING 
INABELL!.  I bet she was hard to lift, even for Thee.

InaBell is dead.  She killed her husband, poor old Pete.  She screamed and 
hollered him to death with her helium woodpecker voice, pulled at him and 
yelled at him and hit him and screamed at him until he had fits and slapped 
his own face and talked in tongues (talks in tongues) at the dinner 
table.  OH, SWEET JESUS CHRIST!  INABELL IS FINALLY 
DEAD!  HALLELUJAH!  HALLELUJAH AND AMEN!

There's a big sale on Tuesday.  Big sale on Tuesday, who will buy her angry 
purse, forty pounds of frozen pot pies?  Who will buy her stiff hairnets 
for failed perms, her fly-speckled glasses?  Who will buy her girdle that 
didn't?  Who will buy her hippo bra, and her nylons that woulda fit 
pylons?  Hey! 
Who'llgivemeanickelwho'llgivemeadimewho'llgivemeanickelwho'llgivemeadime, 
who'll give me sumpin' for this SHIT?!  Who'll buy the little plastic 
church that used to light up, the busted pink hairdryer, and half a carton 
of menthol cigarettes?  Who will buy her cracked bowling ball and enough 
knickknacks to sink the Titanic?!  Who will buy her sidewalk made out of 
storm doors and cardboard and a blown Pontiac full of sparrows and 
saplings?  Oh, who will buy?  Who will buy?  Step right up!  Who will 
buy?  Who will buy?  Who will buy?

Put a big ol' stone on top of her that says, "InaBell finally shutup and 
kicked the bucket!"  Big sale on Tuesday.