Of course you don’t remember Jeremy, my dear; you weren’t born yet, so you didn’t get any of him, while I had a generous helping, over-generous really as he didn’t sit well, which was odd because his brother went down smooth as milk, and they were twins; at any rate, you shall have a helping of him when I die, though it will be flavored with me, of course, rather than being straight from the tap as I had it, and frankly I think that can only be an improvement on his flavor, since he had a gamey sort of soul that was heavily spiced, because he’d been quite liberal with the drugs, and also the perversion and the blasphemy, as though a cook had gone overboard with mustard and pepper and half a dozen other seasonings; really, it seems he got all the flavor for both of them and didn’t leave any for his brother, while I think they would both have been better off with the savoriness divided between them, or at any rate they would have made better eating, which is why the family always says “balance every virtue with a vice”, as you don’t want your descendants remembering you as either terribly bland or unpalatable due to excessive spice, and you would think Jeremy would have been more careful about this, as he had to eat some of his great-uncle Stephen, who was such a nasty dish that he corroded the platinum bands right off great-grandmother Lillian’s wedding china, which is why her side of the family never eats the funeral supper off the good dishes any more, and also they couldn’t get the smell of him out of the house for weeks and weeks.
[From Steering the Craft by Ursula K. LeGuin. Exercise 3, Part 2: “Write a half-page to a page of narrative, up to 350 words, which is all one sentence.” Weird Pudding exercise meeting in 2008.]