Daddy ain’t moving, so I been playing demolition derby with his bottles like I ain’t not supposed to. Only now I’m getting hungry and still he don’t wake up. When I creep close, he’s got flies in his eyes. They move, but he don’t. No flies in my eyes, cos I’m all friends with the spiders in the skirting, but him? He’s got flies in his eyes.
Daddy, I says, Daddy, ain’t you got some food for me? All the chips is done. I’m hungry, Pa, I’m hungry.
But my Daddy, he ain’t a one for moving.
Simon Sylvester 
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