"Them Primrose's, they is hateful people," my aunt Frenetta would always say to us kids.  Seems all the other kids in the neighborhood heard the same or close to the same things too.  Merle, who we all called Mule, was the first of us to throw something at their house.  After that, when we all walked by, which was almost every day because that house was on our way to school, someone would throw a rock, or stick, or piece of fruit, or whatever we hated to eat from our lunch boxes at that little white house.  
     We all rejoiced, I think Mule more so than most, when they boarded up that place. They were hateful people.

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