“Right。”

He sighed; then took that bite of noodles and chewed it for the longest time。

It felt like I was sinking fast; but I couldn't figure out why。 So I tried to bail out with; “And you

guys can go ahead and eat those eggs; but there's no

way I'm going to touch them; so don't even ask。”

My mother's looking back and forth from my dad to me while she eats her salad; and I can

tell she's waiting for him to address my adventure as a

neighborhood operative。 But since he's not saying anything; she clears her throat and says;

“Why's that?”

“Because there's … well; there's …I don't know how to say this nicely。”

“Just say it;” my father snaps。

“Well; there's; you know; excrement everywhere。”

“Oh; gross!” my sister says; throwing down her fork。

“You mean chicken droppings?” my mother asks。

“Yeah。 There's not even a lawn。 It's all dirt and; uh; you know; chicken turds。 The chickens

walk in it and peck through it and…”

“Oh; gross!” Lyta wails。

“Well; it's true!”

Lyta stands up and says; “You expect me to eat after this?” and stalks out of the room。

“Lyta! You have to eat something;” my mother calls after her。

“No; I don't!” she shouts back; then a second later she sticks her head back into the dining

room and says; “And don't expect me to eat any of

those eggs either; Mother。 Does the word salmonella mean anything to you?”