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57
And the colorful group sits down in the guest room. One
honor student, a boy with dirty ears, who got a two in
math, and two others, who would barter death for sweets
even their hamsters and canaries.
“First, russell and meat patties, then beet salad, boiled
potatoes, gravy and fish. Aigar, don’t look at the torte, that’s
for later,” mama nags.
To Jacob a personage’s heroic deed are nevertheless very
important. The battle is eternal, and intermissions short,
even very short, when the magic of a second’s victory can
be so nicely celebrated. Jacob has decided, still, in order for
something to be done, it’s definitely necessary to raise a
hand. Jacob raises his hand, and mama’s glance stops there.
“Jakey, where did you get your hands so grubby, like a little
pig! March, wash them!”
Jacob, head down, leaves the guests. Turns on the faucet in
the bathroom, soaps his hands and rinses. Suddenly he
looks in the mirror above the sink and almost cries out with
joy – he hasn’t lost the thread, look – the personages are
there, even larger.
Sun eats tar, the meat grinder grinds tar, Mephistopheles
drinks tar, Sunset chews tar, the prince sucks tar, the desert
smokes tar.