Movin' Up Sunday

The smell of my new Sunday School book stifles the imagined essence of Mama's awaiting past noon repast;CHICKEN LEGS AND TATER SALAT, THE MAN PREACHES TOO LONG, AND THE CHEESE IS SURELY ELBOWING IT'S WAY THROUGH MUELLER'S PASTA THRONGI'm in the intermediate department now -brother won't be able to work my puzzles now - there aren't any;KEEP THE STRAWBERRIES - GIVE ME THE CAKE, JUICE AND BIRD'S EYE.DADDY SAYS IT'S NOT REAL CREAM, BUT IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE TO MY PECAN PIEAre we gonna have to read these lessons on our own? The print's too small, the teacher's probably gonna be borin';IF I HAD MY WAY THER'D BE A WATER COOLER BESIDE EVERY HYMNBOOK, LET ME HAVE A GLASS OF SWEET ICE TEA BEFORE I DIE - GET ME OFF THE HOOK.The preacher's talkin' 'bout goin' up, (this is what the Superintendant calls promotion Sunday) but he's not talkin' about Sunday School now - it is about a better day. He's almost through now - what did I miss? They ARE right, I don't need Jacob's Ladder crosswords now - it's time to listen.....In Jesus' name, Amen. PASS THE BREAD PLEASE - TURKEY AND DRESSING AND SWEET POTATO PIE? Sunday's sure are a changin', nobody told me "goin' up" would be like this. Kip Powell