Chapter 14 Recipes for Good Friday

The two contradict each other, a word that might be used to describe my mood from Easter Monday to Good Friday.On the one hand, I was angry that the plaster boy Jesus would not play the drum, and on the other hand, I was happy that the drum was now mine alone.On the one hand, my voice failed to sing the broken glass windows of the church, and on the other hand, in view of this sacred stained glass, Oscar retained a remnant of Catholic faith, and it is that remnant of faith that will continue to grow. Instilled in him many hopelessly blasphemous inspirations. But there is more to the word contradictory than that.On the one hand, on the way home from the Sacred Heart Church, I sang experimentally and broke a glass on the attic. On the other hand, I found it very strange why my voice could be effective for secular goals, but within the scope of the church. But failed.Contradictory, I said to myself.This rift has always existed, it cannot be healed, and it is still with me even though I live neither in the church nor in the secular area, but in a sanatorium and nursing home separated from both .

Mom compensated for the loss of the left altar.Business was brisk at Easter, although the shops were closed on Good Friday, as Matzerath, a Protestant, insisted on staying closed.Usually my mother was always her own way, but on Good Friday she backed down and the shop closed and closed.On the other hand, however, she asked, on Catholic grounds, that the Colonial Merchandise Store be closed for one day on Corpus Christi, and that the boxes of Bessier soap powder and samples of Haag coffee in the window be replaced by colored lamps illuminated by electric lights. The statue of the Virgin Mary also participated in the parade of Catholic priests and believers held in Oliva.

-------- ①The seventh Sunday after Easter is Whitsun, the first Sunday after Whitsun is Trinity (Easter Sunday), and the Thursday after Trinity is Corpus Christi. We have a piece of cardboard.One side reads: Good Friday, closed for one day.On the other side it reads: Corpus Christi, closed for one day.After that Monday without drums or singing of broken glass, Good Friday came next. Matzerath hung the cardboard in the window, with the side that said "Good Friday, closed for a day" facing out .After breakfast, we took the tram to Bresen.The word contradictory also applies to the scene on the Rue Labes.The Protestants went to church and the Catholics cleaned windows and beat all the blankets in the backyard and all that stuff.They slapped so vigorously that the echoes echoed everywhere, making people think that there were soldiers from the "Bible" crucifying the doubled savior in the yard of every apartment building.

The slapping of the Good Friday rug fell far behind us.Mama, Matzerath, Jan Bronski and Oskar, the tried-and-true group took the No. 9 tram, crossed the Bresenstrasse, passed the airfield, the old training ground, the new training ground, in Saas Get off at the turnout near the Pei Cemetery and wait for the tram from the new fairway to Bresen.Taking advantage of the opportunity of waiting for the bus, my mother smiled and expressed her feelings of being tired of life.In the small abandoned church cemetery, under the deformed beach dwarf pine, the tombstones of the last century were crooked, and weeds were overgrown, but my mother said it was beautiful, romantic and charming.

"If someone manages that cemetery, I really want to rest there in the future." She said this with admiration.Matzerath, however, thought the soil was too sandy and complained that it was full of licorice and wild oats.Jan Bronski shared his concerns that this place would have been a real paradise, but that the noise from the airport and the U-turning trams near the cemetery would spoil the tranquility. The oncoming tram turned around us, the conductor rang the bell twice, and we boarded.The tram left Saspe and its cemetery and headed towards Bresen.Brösen is the site of the baths, and at that time, towards the end of April, the scene was rather desolate.The catering shop was boarded up, the gates of the sanitarium were closed, the pennants disappeared from the seaside promenade, and two hundred and fifty tents were lined up empty on the swimming pool.On the blackboard where the weather forecast was written, there are still traces of the chalk writing written last year—temperature: 20 degrees; water temperature: 17 degrees; wind direction: northeast; weather situation: sunny to cloudy.

At first we were going on foot to Gretkau, and then, without a word being said, we walked in the opposite direction, towards the breakwater.The vast Baltic Sea lazily licks the sand.No one was seen until the approach channel between the white lighthouse and the marked breakwater.Yesterday's rain left regular marks in the sand; it is a joy to trample them out and replace them with your own.Mom and I both took off our shoes and socks and walked on the sand.Matzerath picked up the pieces of bricks the size of silver coins, and gently withdrew them, making them jump one after another against the green water, trying to show off.Jan Bronski was clumsy, looking for amber in between throwing brick chips, and he did find some small pieces, one of which, the size of a cherry pit, was given to my mother.At this time, my mother was running barefoot like me. She looked back from time to time, as if she fell in love with her own footprints.The sun shone cautiously.It is cool, windless, and refreshing; looking at the horizon, you can see a gray band, which is the Hera Peninsula.There were also two or three fading streaks of black smoke and the superstructure of a merchant ship now and then leaping over the horizon.

The four of us, front and back, at different distances, came to the granite rocks at the base of the wide breakwater one after another.Mom and I put on our shoes and socks again.While she was helping me tie my shoelaces, Matzerath and Jan were jumping from stone to stone on top of the uneven breakwater into the empty sea.There are clumps of unkempt seaweed growing scattered in the crevices of the dam foundation.Oscar really wanted to comb them with a comb.But Mom took my hand, and we walked behind the two boys who were bouncing around like schoolchildren.With every step the drum bumped against my knee, but I refused to take it off.Mom wore a sky blue spring coat with raspberry cuffs.The granite was so uneven that it was difficult for her to walk in her high heels.I wear a sailor coat with gold anchor buttons, which is my Sunday and holiday outfit.The streamer on the sailor's hat, embroidered with the words "Royal Sea Ship Seydlitz", was a souvenir of Gretchen Scheffler.If there is wind, it will flutter.Matzerath unbuttoned his long brown coat.Jan, always dapper, wore a shiny double-breasted coat with a velvet collar.We bounced to the buoy at the end of the breakwater.Under the buoy sat an older man in a boater's hat and cotton jacket.Beside him was a potato sack, and something was twitching and shaking in it.This man—whose home, I ask, is either in Bressen or the New Fairway—holds the end of a clothesline.The other end of this rope wrapped around seaweed is submerged in the salty and fresh water at the mouth of the Motlau River.The river here is still turbid, and although there is no open sea to add to the flames, it keeps beating the stones of the breakwater.

We all wondered why this guy in a boater's hat was fishing with an ordinary clothesline and apparently without a buoy.Mom kindly asked him jokingly and called him "uncle".The uncle grinned, showing his broken teeth that were stained brown by tobacco. He didn't give any explanation, but spit out a long piece of chewed tobacco residue from his mouth, somersaulted in the air, and landed on the bottom of the paint. A muddy floor between asphalt and painted granite stones.The tobacco spit was still swaying, and at last a seagull came, deftly rounded the stone, picked it up in flight, and attracted other gulls to chase after it, screaming.

We all wanted to go, for it was cool on the breakwater, and the sun's rays did not add to the warmth.At this moment, the man in the boat loader's hat began to retrieve the ropes one by one.Still, Mom wanted to go.But Matzerath refused to move.Jan usually doesn't go against my mother's wishes, and she didn't support her this time.Anyway, it doesn't matter whether Oscar goes or not.Since everyone stood still and didn't move, I watched carefully.The boat loader pulled evenly one by one, and each time he pulled the seaweed off the rope, he gathered the rope between his legs.At the same time, I noticed that the merchant ship, whose superstructure had just emerged from the horizon almost half an hour before, had now changed course; she was deep in the water, and was heading for the port.Oscar estimated in his heart: With such a deep draft, it must be a Swedish ship transporting iron ore.

When the ship loader stood up slowly, I also looked away from the Swedish ship. "Okay, now let's see what's going on," he said to Matzerath.Matzerath didn't understand at all, but nodded to him frequently. "Now let's see..." the loader repeated over and over, pulling at the rope.At this time, he put in more effort, pulled the rope, walked down from the stone pile, stretched out his arms, and poked into the bubbling cove between the granite rocks, felt and caught something (mother did not turn their backs in time).He grabbed hold of it, pulled it up, yelled at us to get out of the way, and threw a wet, heavy mass, a living writhing mass, between us: the head of a horse, a freshly slaughtered real A horse's head, a black horse's head, a black maned horse's head.The horse must have neighed yesterday or the day before, because its head wasn't rotten or stinky, and at most it smelled of Mottlau water, but then everything on the breakwater got that smell.

The man in the boater's hat—which had slid down on the back of his head at the moment—stands with his legs spread apart by the horse's head, from which the little pale green eels swam frantically.The man caught them with difficulty; for the stones were wet and slippery, and the eels swam swiftly and deftly.Then came seagulls, screaming above our heads.They rushed down, and three or four seagulls scrambled for a small or medium eel, but they couldn't watch it, because the breakwater was their world.Still, the shiploader was punching the seagulls while catching eels, and he stuffed about twenty-four or five smaller eels into his pockets; Matzerath opened them for him, always helpful.He did not, therefore, see his mother turn pale and rest her hands and then her head on Jan's shoulders and the collar of her velvet coat. When all the eels, small and medium, were stuffed into the pockets, the shiploader—whose cap had come off in his work—set to work picking the thicker black eels out of the horse's mouth.At this time, my mother couldn't stand anymore, so she had to sit down.Yang asked her to turn her face away, but she didn't listen, but stared blankly at the boat loader picking eels with wide-eyed eyes. "Let's see!" he asked or hummed, "Now let's see!" With the help of his rubber boots he opened the horse's muzzle and pushed a short stick between the upper and lower jaws, exposing the The intact yellow horse teeth look like a horse grinning.The shiploader—whose bald head, I see now, resembled an egg—felt his hands down the horse's throat, and each time he pulled out two eggs at least as thick and as long as his arms. Here come the eels.At this time, my mother's upper and lower teeth also separated, and she spat out all the breakfast she had eaten, the clumped egg whites, and the brushed egg yolks sandwiched in the white bread dough soaked in coffee with milk, all sprayed on the anti-bacteria. On the rocks of the embankment.She's still throwing up, but she can't throw up because that's all she had for breakfast.Because she was overweight and had to lose weight, she tried all kinds of diets, but seldom stuck to it—she ate secretly—except for the women's league gymnastics on Tuesdays, who she had to go to. Nor did it change her mind, although Jan and even Matzerath laughed at her when she went out with her gym bag.She wore a shiny blue tracksuit and did club exercises with the ridiculous women, but she still didn't lose weight. That day, Mama vomited no more than half a pound on the rocks.She tried to vomit as much as she could, but couldn't get any less, nothing but green mucus - and the seagulls came flying.As soon as she started throwing up, there they were, circling, flying lower and lower, plump and sleek, coming straight down to eat my mother's breakfast.They are not afraid of getting fat by themselves, and they are not afraid of being driven away by others-not to mention who will drive them away? — because Jan Bronski shielded his beautiful blue eyes with his hands, afraid of the seagulls. They paid no attention to Oskar, though he had taken out his drums against the gulls, and dealt the white things with rapid bangs on the white patent leather with his sticks.But it doesn't help, at most it just makes the seagulls whiter.Matzerath completely ignored my mother.He smiled, imitating the shiploader, and pretended to be nervous and unconcerned.The shippers are almost finished.At last, he pulled a thick, long eel out of the horse's ear, and with it all the brains, which were like oatmeal.Matzerath's face turned pale immediately, but he still pretended to be indifferent.He bought two thick eels from the shipper with a small amount of money. After the eels got his hands, he had to bargain. I can't help but praise Bronski.He had the look of himself on the verge of tears, and nonetheless got my mother up, put one arm around her waist, and put the other arm across the front of her, and led her away in a very funny way.Mom stumbled across the rocks toward the beach in her high heels, bending her knees at every step, but managed not to sprain her ankle. Oskar remained with Matzerath and the shiploader.The boatman put his hat back on and pointed to the potato sack to explain why half a sack of kosher salt was in it.He said the eels died after burrowing into the salt, which also removes mucus from the eels' skin and bodies.After the eel got into the salt, it continued to swim until it died, thus leaving all the mucus in the salt.If you want to make smoked eel, you have to use this method.Although the police department and the animal protection association forbid it, they can't control it.To get rid of the slime on and inside the eels, there is no other way than to use salt.The slime was removed, and the dead eels were carefully wiped clean with dry slime, put into smokers, and hung over a beech fire for smoking. Matzerath thought it made sense to let the eels swim in the salt.He said, didn't the eel also get into the horse's head?Said the shiploader, they also burrowed into human corpses!It is said, especially after the battle of Skagerrak, that the eels became fat and thick.A few days ago a doctor in a sanatorium and nursing home told me about a married woman who used a live eel for carnal pleasures.As a result, the eel couldn't let go, and she was sent to the hospital.It is said that she will never give birth again from then on. -------- ① Skagerrak is a strait between Denmark and Norway.In the First World War, the German and British navies fought here from May 31 to June 1, 1916. The ship loader tied the salt and eel sacks, carried them skillfully on his shoulders, put the rolled clothesline around his neck, and walked with heavy steps towards the new channel.At this time, the merchant ship also docked in that direction.This ship was about 1,800 tons, and it was not Swedish but Finnish, and it was not carrying iron ore but timber.The bag-carrying shiploader probably knew some of the men on the Finnish ship, as he was waving and shouting at the rusty ship.The people on the Finnish boat waved and shouted to him too.But why did Matzerath wave his hands, too, and yell the meaningless "Boy, ahoy!"?I can't figure it out.He was a native of the Rhineland and knew nothing of navigation, and he knew none of the Finns.It can only be said that this is a bad habit of his. When others wave, he also waves. When others shout, laugh, and applaud, he also shouts, laughs, and applauds.Because of this, he had joined the party earlier, when it was unnecessary and did him no good at all, except that he wasted his Sunday mornings. -------- ① "Ah Ho Yi!" is the shout of the crew to greet the ship or people. Oskar walked slowly behind Matzerath, the New Channel man and the overloaded Finnish ship.I turned back now and then, because the shiploader had left the horse's head under the buoy, but it was out of sight now.It was covered by a flock of gulls, like a gleaming white hole in a bottle-green sea, or like a freshly washed cloud ready to rise neatly into the air.They shrieked to cover the horse's head, the one that was screaming instead of neighing. After I had seen enough, I ran away from Seagull and Matzerath.I hopped and ran, beating the tin drum with my fists, past the shiploader, who was now smoking a short pipe, to Jan Bronski and Mama at the start of the breakwater.Jan was still supporting my mother just as before, but his other hand was under the collar of her coat.Mom's hand was also in Jan's trouser pocket.But Matzerath couldn't see this, he was still far away from us, and he was wrapping the four eels that had been stunned by the stones of the ship loader with a newspaper he had picked up among the rocks of the breakwater. Matzerath caught up, waved the bundle of eels, and boasted: "He wants one and a half, and I'll give him a shield and I'll buy it." Mom looked good again, and put her hands together.She said: "Don't you think I will eat your eels. I will not eat fish from now on, let alone eels." Matzerath smiled and said: "Don't pretend, my dear. You know how people catch eels Yes, in the past you didn’t eat it as usual, even fresh ones. When I’m ready, add colorful side dishes and some salad, and see if you can eat it.” Jan Bronski didn't say a word, he had just in time pulled his hand out of my mother's coat.I beat the drums and told them not to talk about eels anymore, and so it was to Bresen.At the tram stop and after getting into the trailer, I also beat the drums to prevent the three adults from talking.The eel didn't move much and was relatively stable.We did not stop at Saspe because the tram had already stopped at the station.Just after the airport, although I was still beating the drum, Matzerath said that he was very hungry now.Mom didn't answer, her eyes avoided the three of us and looked away.Finally, Jan handed her a Regata, and she turned away.Jan lit her, and she smiled at Matzerath as she tucked the golden holder between her lips, because she knew that Matzerath didn't want to see her smoke in public. We got off at Max Halberplatz, and anyway, Mama took Matzerath's arm instead of Jan's, which I had expected.Jan walked beside me, took my hand, and finished off Mom's leftover cigarette. On Rue Labes, Catholic housewives are still patting carpets.When Matzerath opened the door of the apartment, I saw Mrs. Carter, who lived on the fifth floor next door to the trumpeter Mayne, going up the stairs.She carried a rolled light brown rug over her right shoulder, supported by a thick, flesh-colored arm.The blond underarm hair, marinated and glued together with sweat, glistened in both armpits.The two ends of the carpet are pulled down one after the other.If her husband had been drunk she would have carried him in the same way; but her man was dead.She walks past us, all fat and in a moire smock, and smells come straight up my nose: ammonia, pickles, calcium carbide—different smells, different days. Then I heard that even slap on the carpet coming from the yard.It drove me into the house and was still in hot pursuit until I finally had to hide in the bedroom wardrobe, where the winter coat hung to insulate the worst of the pre-Easter noises. part. I lay down in the closet, not only because of Mrs. Carter patting the rugs.Mother, Jan, and Matzerath were already arguing over the Good Friday menu before they had even taken off their coats.But the quarrel was not limited to the eels, and as usual, I was moved out again, of course the famous incident of my falling down the cellar steps: all your fault, all your fault! ——I'm going to make eel soup now, don't put on airs like that! —You can do whatever you want, just don’t be an eel.There are plenty of cans in the cellar.Go get a can of chanterelles!Close the trap door and nothing more will happen. ——Stop reading this scripture!There's eel here, and that's it, with milk, mustard, coriander, and brine potatoes, and a bay leaf with cloves. --don't want! —Alfred, if she doesn't want to eat it, don't do it! ——Don't worry about it, eels are not bought for throwing away, I will clean them up and wash them. ——Don't, don't! —Let's wait and see!When the food is served on the table, we will see who eats it and who does not. Matzerath slammed the living room door and went to tidy up in the kitchen.He deliberately made his voice loud.He made two cross cuts under the eel's head.Mamma's imagination was so rich that she couldn't stand at the sound and had to sit down on the sofa, and Jan Bronski immediately followed her.After a while, the two of them held hands and whispered there in Kashube dialect. When the three grown-ups split in two, I wasn't hiding in the closet, but in the living room.There is a children's chair next to the tile-faced fire.I sat there swinging my legs and Jan stared at me and I knew I was in their way, even though they couldn't do much more.Because Matzerath was only separated from them by a wall, although he could not see him, he was waving the half-dead eel like a whip, obviously threatening them.So, they could only hold each other's hands, squeeze, and pull the twenty fingers one after another, making a rattling sound, and finally I couldn't bear it anymore.Wasn't the sound of Mrs. Carter patting the carpet coming from the yard enough?Didn't this kind of sound already pass through the walls, although the volume didn't increase, it was getting closer? Oscar slid out of the small chair.Not wishing to leave so suddenly that he would not be noticed, he crouched for a moment by the fire, and then, absorbed in beating his drum, slipped across the threshold into the bedroom. Avoiding making a sound, I half-closed the bedroom door, satisfied that no one would call me back.I also thought about whether Oscar should get under the bed or hide in the closet.I'd rather hide in the closet, because getting under the bed would stain my fussy, navy-blue sailor coat.I was just able to get the key to the cabinet, turned it, opened the mirrored door, and pushed aside the coats and winter clothes that were put on the hangers and hung on the crossbars with a wooden stick.In order to reach the hangers and move these heavy garments, I had to step on the drum.There was finally a gap in the center of the cabinet. Although it was not big, it was enough for Oscar to climb in and squat inside.With a little effort, I even pulled the door of the mirrored cabinet closed. I found a woman's scarf at the bottom of the cabinet and used it to clamp the door, leaving a finger-width slit, which can not only breathe Use it as a lookout hole when necessary.I put the drum on my lap and stopped beating, even the very light ones.I sat inside and let the smell of my winter coat smother me and permeate me numbly. How wonderful!Having a chest like this, and these heavy, almost suffocating clothes, made me gather almost all my thoughts together, bundle them up, and gift them to some imaginary person, who was very rich , I accepted my gift solemnly, but the joy in my heart was hardly revealed. As always, when I was concentrating on my imagination, I wandered into Dr. Hollatz's clinic on the Brunshoeffer Strasse, reliving the parts of my Wednesday visits that were most important to me.I was thinking, not of the doctor—whose examinations were getting more and more complicated—but of his assistant.Nurse Inge.She was the one who undressed and dressed me, and it was also the one who measured my height, weight, and performed the experiments. In short, the experiments Dr. Hollatz performed on me were all performed by Nurse Inge.She did it correctly, but always a little brusquely, and each time reported sarcastically: failure.But Horatz calls it a partial success.I seldom took a look at Nurse Inger's face, my eyes and the drummer's heart that was sometimes aroused, and I was content only to appreciate her nurse's uniform that was whiter with cleanliness, the fluffy fabric she wore as a hat, And an unpretentious brooch with a red cross on it.It was interesting to watch the folds of her nurse's gown being renewed again and again.Was there flesh in her clothes?Her face was getting older, and her hands, despite all the care they had taken, were still bony, suggesting that Nurse Inge was a woman after all.When Jan and even Matzerath lifted my mother's clothes, she smelled like Nurse Inger did not, so it proved that she had a different physique than my mother.She smelled of soap and drowsy medicine.As often happens, drowsiness comes over me while she auscultates my small, supposedly diseased body.It was a slight drowsiness from the folds of her white dress, a carbolic sleep, a dreamless sleep, but sometimes her brooches grew far, far away, into God-knows-what What: the sea of ​​flags, the red light of the Alps, the field of poppies, ready to revolt, against whom?God only knows: revolt against the Indians, the cherries, the nosebleeds, the rooster's comb, the profusion of red blood cells, until the whole field of red that fills my field of vision forms a passionate background.This passion, then and now, is self-evident, yet indescribable, because the little word "red" expresses nothing.Nosebleeds have nothing to do with it, the flag fades, I call it "Red" nonetheless, and the red spurns me, turns its coat inside out: black, the cook is coming, black, scares my face Yellow, she lied to me, saying that the blue from the sky fell①, I don’t believe in blue, she can’t lie to me, and she can’t make me green, green is a coffin, I lie in it and eat grass②, green covers Me, so that I do not see the sun, it becomes white, and the white becomes black, and the black frightens me into yellow, and the yellow deceives me into saying that it is blue.I don't believe that blue is green, that there are red flowers in the green meadow, and the red is Nurse Inge's brooch, who wears a red cross, or rather, on the collar of her nurse's gown; Here or elsewhere, my imagination seldom stops at the purest color of all symbols. -------- ① means: big lie. ②Here is a palindrome, a kind of word play, "coffin" (Sarg) read backwards is "grass" (Gras). Various noises came from the living room, pounding the closet where I hid, and rousing me from the half-sleep I had just begun to devote to Nurse Inger.Sitting lucid and tongue-tied among winter coats of various sizes and styles, with a tin drum on my lap, I smelled of Matzerath's swastika uniform with a leather belt.Leather strap with snap hook.However, I can no longer imagine the white pleats of the nurse's uniform. I have wool, worsted wool and corduroy hanging on my sides, hats of the previous four years on my head, and adult shoes on my feet. Children's shoes, waxed boot putters, heels with and without tacks.A bright light came through the crack of the door, and everything could be seen clearly.Oscar regretted leaving a gap in the middle of the mirrored door. What show can those in the living room show me?Maybe Matzerath bumped into the two on the sofa, but that was unlikely because Jan was always on the lookout, and not only when he was playing schkatter.Likely, and indeed, Matzerath killed the eels, disemboweled them, washed them, boiled them, seasoned them, tasted them, and served them to the living room in large soup bowls with salted potatoes. Since the two had no intention of sitting down, they boasted how delicious the eel soup was, counted the condiments added from beginning to end, and recited his cooking method like reciting a prayer.Mom yelled.She spoke Kashube dialect.Matzerath can't understand and can't bear it, but listen, maybe catch a little bit of her meaning; anyway, it's an eel, nothing else; besides, it's me who fell off the cellar steps Things, every time my mother yells, it's nothing more than these.Matzerath responded with a few words.They all memorized their lines fluently.Jan chimed in to accuse.Without him, there is no play.Then comes the second act: the piano cover is slammed, there is no score, and the three people are singing "Hunter's Chorus" from "The Bullet Shooter" inconsistently. : "What is similar in the world..." He hummed and sang halfway through, the cover of the piano was closed with a bang, his feet were lifted from the pedal, and the cover of the piano was closed.Mother came, had already entered the bedroom, and glanced at the mirrored door of the wardrobe.I looked through the crack of the door and saw her lying on the wedding bed under the blue canopy, weeping loudly, with her fingers upturned, just like the good prostitute praying in the gold-framed color painting hanging above the bed in the wedding castle. -------- ① "The Shooter" is an opera by the German composer Weber (1786-1826).A translation of "Magic Bullet Shooter". For a long time, all I heard was my mother's crying, the slight creaking of the bed, and mumbled murmurs from the living room.Jan comforted Matzerath, and Matzerath asked Jan to comfort my mother.The grunt faded away and moved into the bedroom.Act III: He stood in front of the bed, looked at his mother, and at the praying prostitute, carefully sat on the edge of the bed, stroked the back and buttocks of his mother who was lying face down, and comforted her with Kashube words, At last, as it was useless to say good things, he ran his hand under her skirt till she ceased sobbing.At this time, Yang's gaze could also be moved away from the slender prostitute.This one is a must-see.Jan got up from his errands, took out his handkerchief, wiped his fingers, and spoke loudly to his mother.At this time, he stopped speaking Kashube language, and said every word so that Matzerath, who was left in the living room or kitchen, could understand: "Come on, Agnes, forget about it." Alfred took the eel away long ago and it's already thrown in the toilet. Let's play schkatter happily! How about we bet a quarter of a Finney if you like? Forget These things, the peace is restored, and Alfred will make you scrambled eggs with mushrooms and fried potatoes." Mom didn't talk to her, she got out of bed, flattened the yellow sheets, adjusted her hair in the mirror on the closet door, and followed Jan out of the bedroom.I moved my eyes from the peeping slot and heard them shuffling the cards.Cautious and slight laughter, Matzerath signed the cards, Yang split the cards, and then everyone called.I think, now it is Jan who calls, and Matzerath is the next one, and when Jan calls at 23 o'clock he will not want it.Mom continued, shouting until thirty-six, when Jan had to give in.Mom finally hit the full thirty-six points. It was really dangerous, and she almost lost.In the second set, the red square was played, and Yang won it firmly.In the third set, my mother hit 30 points of hearts and won by luck. Needless to say, the family game of cards was played well into the night, with a brief break in between for scrambled eggs, mushrooms and fried potatoes.However, in the next game, I could hardly hear it.I managed to find Nurse Inger and her hypnotic white nurse uniform again.However, the scene in Dr. Hollatz's clinic was still rather vague.Not only did green, blue, yellow and black come to spoil the red color of the Red Cross brooch, but what happened this morning also got mixed in: the door to the stethoscope and Nurse Inge had just opened, and what was presented to me was not always clean. And the light nurse's uniform, but the shiploader under the beacon light on the breakwater of the new channel, he is catching the eels covered with water from the horse's head.As for what appeared to be white, I wanted to associate it with Nurse Inger, but it was the wings of a seagull, covering the horse's head and the eel in it for a moment, until the wound burst open again, but the oozing The blood is not red, but black, like the black horse.The bottle-green sea, adding a touch of rust to the vision is the Finnish lumber ship, and the seagulls—don't mention the pigeons to me again—cover the sacrifice like a cloud, with their wings The tip went in, pulled out the eel, and threw it to Nurse Inger.她接着了，赞颂它，并且把自己变成了海鸥，不是鸽子，即使变成了圣灵，也不以鸽子的形骸显现而以海鸥的形骸显现，像云一样，降落在肉上。庆祝圣灵降临节。 我不再白费劲了，而要离开衣柜。我怒气冲冲地踢开镶镜子的柜门，爬出柜子，在镜子前照了照，依然故我，但毕竟很高兴，因为卡特太太不再拍打地毯了。虽然耶稣受难日对于奥斯卡来说已经结束，但是他自己的受难日则要到复活节过后才开始。