The Plain in Flames by Juan Rulfo

I'm sitting by the sewer waiting for the frogs to come out. Last night, while we were having dinner, they started kicking up a huge ruckus and didn't stop singing until dawn. That's what my godmother says, too: the frogs' shouting scared her sleep away. And she'd like to sleep now. That's why she told me to sit here, near the sewer, waiting with a board in my hand so that I can smash to smithereens any frog that hops out. Frogs are green all over, except for their bellies. Toads are black.

My godmother's eyes are black, too. Frogs are good to eat. You shouldn't eat toads; but I've eaten them, too, though you're not supposed to, and they taste the same as frogs. Felipa is the one who says it's bad to eat toads. Felipa has green eyes, like a cat's. She's the one who feeds me in the kitchen when it's time for me to eat. She doesn't like me to hurt frogs. But, for the most part, it's my godmother who orders me around. I love Felipa more than my godmother. But it's my godmother who takes money out of her purse so Felipa can buy all the stuff we eat. The only thing Felipa does is stay in the kitchen and fix food for the three of us. Since I've known her, she hasn't done anything else. It's up to me to wash the dishes. Bringing in wood for the stove is my job, too. Then it's my godmother who hands out the food. After she eats, she makes two little piles, one for Felipa, the other for me. But sometimes Felipa doesn't feel like eating, so then the two piles are for me. That's why I love Felipa, because I'm always hungry and never full, not even after I eat her food. Even if people say you should be full after eating, I know I never get full, even if I eat everything they give me. And Felipa knows this, too.