The Books

Mean Soup

by Betsy Everitt

One Potato Review

You had a lousy, grumpy, insufferable day, and maybe it was Zelda’s fault for slipping you the love note, or dotty old Miss Pearl for almost running over three poodles on your drive home from school. No, maybe it was that flower for getting in the way of your foot, though you can’t just hurl yourself on the ground anymore – can you? – or stomp, or even bite someone, still there’s got to be a better alternative than a stiff upper lip. For anyone who’s ever worried about getting eaten up inside, or who is otherwise looking for a better, more productive reason to shout. Vivid and pragmatic.

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