Great. You can write my obituary. The Help
I got a job today at the Jackson Journal. I'm gonna be a serious writer mister.
Oh Christ, I guess you'll do.
Great. You can write my obituary. Charlotte Phelan, dead. Her daughter, still single.
Aibileen, something pulling up and the table isn't set.
Aibileen, you spilled some.
Forgive me lord, but I'm gonna have to kill that woman Aibileen.
You know as well as I do. Every white home should have a separate bathroom for the colored help.
Maybe you should just build you a bathroom outside Hilly.
You said to write about what disturbs me.
I'm listening.
I was raised by a colored woman. I've seen how simple and how complex it can be.
She raised me.
She did not.
I like to write something from the point of view of the help.
A book like this has never been written before.
There's a reason.
