Momma tole me what I can't not go at Sunday School wearin' no ratty tank top with my red banana on my head this mornin'; so I sayed, but God don't cares what I looks like, Momma, He just bees happy what I comed over. But she maked me put on my good banker shirt anyhows and tole me, don't be so rude, young man. A course, I beed late for Sunday School and Mrs. Pearson beed mad on me; so I tole her what it weren't my fault what God didn't not like my outfit today. Then I hadda go sit in the hall acause I were rude again. Which, I's gonna tell Momma; see, Momma, you shoulda just leaved me alone, acause God didn't even got to see my banker shirt any ole how, and now it bees dirty all for nothin'. Well, prawly I isn't gonna say that. But I wants to. A really a lot.