Today I beed watchin' teachy TV an' I seed a show alls 'bout people what never throws nothin' away. They calls 'em whores. An' then my brain goed, Ping-Pong! Acause; guess who bees a whore? Momma. Which, that ain't even funny acause whores is sick. So I tole Momma, you must of bees a sick whore, Momma. An' she goed bee-zerk! She were screamin' 'bout slappin' my dirty mouth, an' chasin' me round an' round, atill finally; I opened up the closet an' showed her all a wigs an' hats an' glasses what she don't never throws away. I tole her, look on all this junk, Momma. Prawly you gottsa be a whore for to keep a messy box like that. Then Momma dropped her wooden spoon an' sayed, oh... I's a hoarder, Georgie, not a whore. So I gived her a great big hug an' tole her, you call it what ya wants, Momma. A least ya knows ya gots a problem.