Who is a man's greatest enemy?

Oh, brothers and sisters, don't look at me like this is such a hard question.

For when you look at me in such a way, I see hesitation and cowardice.

I know you know the answer.

A man's greatest enemy is his partner in the womb.

One who dwells there either before or after or during,

and laid claim to the amniotic housing that can belong to but one man.

Fear your brother, my friends who sit before me.

And if you're sitting next to your brother now, well, may you kill one another in the parking lot with delight and swiftness.

The story must be told.

The story must be told. Oh, story, oh story, guide me and course through my veins. Oh, yes, bleed me.

Oh, that's right. Take all my blood and remove each and every strand of familial DNA.

Make me a stranger unto those who know me best.

Make me anonymous in your word. For I yearn to become pure in only you,

O story. Brother Reed, it delights me that we are brother and sister in the story and not by

blood, for otherwise I could not invoke your presence. Please approach the pulpit and delight us in a psalm.

Someone in the neighborhood got the bright idea to go on a camping trip, four of us families from the cul-de-sac.

We left as a caravan one Friday morning, one station wagon after another.

The O'Connor's in front, the Dijardans behind, the Akinbe family and third, a veritable UN of shitty families.

And me, I took the rear, puttered along through the smoky mountains.

Clarissa shouted in the back, her brother tormenting her.

My wife, Deborah, passed out on pills,

...