"our girlhood was spent like a found nickel on you. when you slept, we were quiet; when you were hungry, we cooked; when you wanted to play, we entertained you; and when you got grown enough to know the difference between a woman and a two-toned ford, everything in this house stopped for you. you have yet to wash your own underwear, spread a bed, wipe the ring from your tub, or move a fleck of dirt from one place to another. and to this day, you have never asked one of us if we were tired, or sad, or wanted a cup of coffee. you've never picked up anything heavier than your own feet, or solved a problem harder than fourth-grade arithmetic. where do you get the right to decide our lives? i'll tell you where. from that hog's gut that hangs down between your legs. well, let me tell you something, baby brother: you will need more than that. i don't know where you will get it or who will give it to you, but mark my words, you will need more than that."
-song of solomon