Answer:
I suspected that my father sold his tongue to the devil. He had little to say in our house. Whenever he felt like disagreeing with my mother, he murmured. ‘The devil ate my words’. This meant he forgot what he was about to say and Mother was often appeased. There was more need for appeasement after he lost his job.
Explanation:
The devil ate his words, the devil ate his capacity for words. The devil ate his tongue. But perhaps only after prior negotiation with its owner what with Mother always complaining, I’m already taking a peek at hell!’ when it got too hot and stuffy in our tiny house. She seemed to sweat more that summer, and miserably. She made it sound like Father’s fault, so he cajoled her with kisses and promises of an electric far; bigger windows, a bigger house, but she pushed him away, saying, ‘Get off me, I’m hot, at this hellish life!’ Again he was ready to pledge relief, but something in my mother’s eyes made him mutter only the usual excuse, ‘The devil ate my words,’ before he shut his mouth. Then he ran to the tap to get more water”
