Chapter 24 soda powder

Do readers know this word?Soda powder was available in small flat pockets earlier in any season.My mom also sells woodruff soda powder in little puke-inducing green sachets at our store.Another bag was the color of an underripe orange and contained what was said to be sweet orange soda powder.There are grass zero flavor and other kinds of soda powder.When you wash it down with tap water, it makes a biting sound, foams, and churns. If you take a sip before it calms down, you will feel a little bit of lemon flavor. The color of the glass is also the color of lemon, but it is darker. , an artificial yellow that can pass off as poison.

What else is printed on the little pocket besides the taste?Natural Products - Patented, Imitation Prosecuted - Moisture Resistant - Printed Under A Dotted Line: Tear Here. Where else can I buy soda powder?Not only at my mother's store, but at any Colonial Merchandise store (except Emperor's Coffee Food and General Stores), you can buy the above-mentioned soda powder.There, and in all trattorias, a bag of soda powder costs three pfennigs. Maria and I don't need to spend money on soda powder.It's only when we can't wait to get home that we have to go to the Colonial Warehouse or the Liquor Store and spend three pfennies, maybe even six pfennies, because we can't get enough of the Hegelian leftists, the "Young Blacks." Garrison". , often have to buy two packs.

Who opened the head with soda powder first?This is an old question that is constantly debated between lovers.I said, Maria started first.Maria never said it was Oscar who started it first.She didn't answer. If the question was urgent, she might say: "The soda powder starts first." In natural science, everyone will say that Maria is right.Only Oscar thought it was unreasonable to push the Japanese like this.I would never admit that a bag of soda powder that costs three pfennigs can lure an Oscar.I am sixteen years old.I'll take the blame myself, or put the blame on Maria, if I have to, but I'm never going to overdo the soda powder that needs moisture protection.

It started a few days after my birthday.According to the calendar, the swim season is over.However, judging from the weather, it doesn't look like September at all.After the rainy August, all the original conditions of the analysand’s existence should be investigated, such as the individual’s physiology and psychology. In the hot summer, the power and prestige of the autumn tiger can be seen from the blackboard next to the notice of the lifesaving association nailed to the bathing house manager’s hut. I read on the Internet—air temperature: 29 degrees; water temperature: 20 degrees; wind direction: southeast; weather forecast: mainly sunny.

Air Force Sergeant Fritz Truczynski sent postcards from Paris, Copenhagen, Oslo and Brussels.The kid has been on a business trip.During this time, Mariah and I got a sun tan.We've been sitting in front of our tent in the family bath all July.Maria is overwhelmed by the unbridled mischief of the students at Conrad School and the endless confessions of love by a student at Petrie Secondary School.In mid-August we left the family baths and found a much quieter little place near the sea in the women's baths.Fat woman, panting, short of breath like the short waves of the Baltic Sea.They stood in the tide, the water had just filled the varicose veins in their rouge.The naked and unruly little rascals also struggled with their fate in the water, that is to say, they built castles with sand, and they were washed away by the sea once they built them.

Women's Baths.If women thought they would not be observed in such a place, a young man, such as Oscar was at the time, was a young man who covered up his truth, and he should close his eyes so as not to become an uninhibited man. Witnesses of women's poses—certainly not voluntarily. We lie in the sand.Maria was wearing a green bathing suit with red trim and I was wearing blue swimming trunks.The sand is sleeping, the sea is sleeping, the shells are all crushed, they are not listening.Amber is said to be eternally awake meaning the category of ancient Chinese philosophy.Refers to opinion, idea, intention.According to Kong Fang, it is only found elsewhere.The wind, according to what was written on the blackboard, was coming from the southeast, and it was slowly falling asleep.The vast sky must be overworked and yawning non-stop.Maria and I are getting tired too.We've been in the water, we've eaten, but not before swimming, but after.We ate the cherries, only the wet pits left, thrown on the beach among the dry pits from previous years that had turned light and white.

Seeing so many scenes from the past, Oscar couldn't help but grabbed a handful of sand, which was mixed with freshly spit out and one-year-old or thousand-year-old cherry stones, and pulled it on his drum, so he turned into an hourglass, and at the same time, played Pick up the bones and imagine yourself playing the role of Death.I picture parts of Maria's sure-awake skeleton beneath her warm, sleeping flesh, enjoying perspective between her ulna and radius, climbing up and down her spine in counting games , go in through the two iliac sockets, and play with her breastbone. I play Death, play with the hourglass, and amuse myself, and Maria, ignoring my pleasure, begins to move.She reached for her swim bag and let her fingers fumble and search for something while I sprinkled the remaining sand and the last few cherry pits onto the half-sanded drum.Maria was probably looking for her harmonica, and since she couldn't find it, she turned her swim bag upside down, and instead of a harmonica, what fell onto the towel was a bag of woodruff soda powder.

Maria feigned surprise.Maybe she was really surprised.I was really surprised.I've said it over and over again, and I still say it today: How did this pack of soda powder, this cheap stuff that only the kids of the workers and shippers buy because they can't afford real lemonade, this unsalable stuff? Where did it come in our swim bag? While Oscar was still thinking about it, Maria felt thirsty.I also had to stop thinking against my will, expressing that I was also very thirsty.We didn't bring glasses.In addition, you have to go to a place with drinking water.If Maria goes, at least thirty-five steps, if I go, at least fifty.If you intend to borrow a cup from the caretaker of the bathhouse, and then go to the caretaker's hut to turn on the tap, you have to walk through the mountain of meat, where you can lie on your back or on your stomach, and endure the burning feet on the beach.

Both of us dreaded the walk, and neither of us picked up the bag of soda powder on the bath towel.Finally, before Maria wanted to pick it up, I got it in my hand.However, Oscar put it back on the towel so that Maria could hold it.Maria doesn't hold out her hand.So I picked it up and gave it to Maria.Maria returns it to Oscar.I thanked her and gave it back to her.But she didn't want to accept the gift from Oscar.I had to put it back on the towel again.It stayed there for a while without moving. After this excruciating lull, Oscar asserted, it was Maria who picked up the bag of soda powder.Not only that, she tore off a small strip of paper along the dotted line printed "tear here".Then she handed me the little ripped bag.This time, Oscar declined her, and Maria was offended.Without saying a word, she put the opened small pocket on the towel.I had no choice but to pick it up and hand the pouch to Maria before the sand from the beach got mixed into it.

Oscar asserted that it was Maria who put a finger into the small pocket, stretched it out again, and stretched out the finger to show me that there was something bluish-white on the tip of the finger, soda powder.She held out her finger to me.I naturally accepted it.Although the smell of soda powder hits my nose, my face pretends it smells good.It was Maria who spread her palms.Oscar had no choice but to sprinkle some soda powder in the pink bowl.She looked at this small pile of fans, not knowing what to do.She felt that the hill in her hand was too novel.So I leaned over and got all the spit and spit on the soda powder and did it again and straightened up because I couldn't get any more spit out.

There was a gnawing sound in Maria's palm, and foam appeared.The woodruff erupted like a volcano.I don't know which country's people are furious there.There was something happening there that Maria had never seen, never felt, because her hand was twitching, shaking, trying to slip away, because the woodruff was biting her, because the woodruff was in her skin , because the woodruff stimulated her, gave her a feeling, a feeling, a feeling... The woodruff grew greener and Maria's face turned red.She put her hand to her mouth and stuck out her long tongue to lick the contents of her hand.She licked it several times, helplessly, Oscar almost thought that her tongue would not be able to quell the emotion of the woodgrass that stimulated her so much, on the contrary it made it develop to the point where it might even exceed the limit of any emotion under normal circumstances. Then the feeling gradually subsided.Maria giggled, looking around to see if anyone had witnessed what had just happened.She saw panting manatees in bathing suits all around them, covered with Nivea oil, tan, lying there numb, and she fell down again on the bath towel; against the white bath towel The shy blush on her face gradually faded away. If Maria hadn't stood up again after just half an hour and picked up the half-pack of soda powder, the weather in the bathing place at noon might have pushed me to sleep that day.I don't know if she had a struggle before she poured the remaining soda powder into the hand that was no longer unfamiliar with the effect of woodruff.She held the paper pocket in her left hand, and spread out her right hand, like a small pink bowl, but she remained motionless for a while, equivalent to the time it takes someone else to wipe their glasses.Her gaze was neither on the paper sack nor on her palm, her gaze did not wander between the half-empty sack and the empty palm, Maria's dark eyes peered between the paper sack and her hand, her gaze serious.However, her serious gaze could not stop the half-empty paper bag after all.The paper bag approached the outstretched palm, and the palm moved closer to the paper bag.Her gaze lost its somewhat melancholy seriousness, became curious, and finally greedy.Maria took great pains to pretend that nothing had happened, poured the remaining powdered woodruff soda into the palm of her bowl-shaped hand (despite the heat, her hands were not sweaty, they were dry), threw away the paper bag, and tore off the A mask of composure, cupped hands in free hands, gray eyes looking at the soda powder for a moment, then looking at me, gray eyes at me, gray eyes wanting something.She wants my saliva, why doesn't she use her own, Oscar is gone, she must have a lot, the saliva will not come out so soon, can she use her own?Her saliva is not better than mine, but it is comparable, and she must have more, because I can't spit it out so quickly, and she is older than Oscar. Maria wants my saliva.My saliva couldn't come out, that was obvious from the start.She didn't take her eyes off me, she was still making this request to me.She was so cruel and refused to give up a single step. I think it is her sin that the earlobe is not hanging by herself but growing on the flesh.Thus, Oscar swallowed repeatedly, imagining the things that would normally make his mouth salivate.But my salivary glands aren't working, and it's just the sea air, the salt air, the sea air.At the request of Maria's gaze, I had no choice but to stand up and walk over there.I didn't dare to look around, so I walked straight on the hot sand for more than fifty steps, climbed the hotter steps, and arrived at the cabin of the bathing manager, turned on the tap, tilted my head, opened my mouth, and continued below, Drinking, spouting, swallowing until Oscar spit again. Despite the seemingly endless walk and the dire sight around him, Oskar returned from the bathkeeper's cabin to our white bath towels, where Maria was lying prone.She folded her arms and put her head in her head.Braids slanted across his chubby back. I gave her a push because Oscar has spit now.Maria remained motionless.I pushed her again.She doesn't want to.I carefully opened her left hand.The hands were parted: empty.As if it had never seen woodruff.I opened her right hand, the pink palm with lines, wet and hot, but also empty. Was Maria using her own spit?Is it because she can't wait?Or she blew the soda powder away, smothered the feeling before she could feel it, and cleaned her hands on the bath towel on the way, until Maria's familiar, somewhat superstitious Moon Mountain, fat Mercury and taut padding The small palm of the real Venus ring is exposed again? We went home right away that day, and Oscar would never know if Maria frothed the soda powder a second time, or if, a few days later, mixing soda powder with my saliva became a thing of hers and mine again. vice. Chance, or rather, chance that obeys our wishes comes.On the evening we went to the baths mentioned above, we drank black rice tree purple black berry soup and ate fried potato cakes.Matzerath babbled to Maria and me that a Schkatter club had been set up in the party headquarters in the area where he was, and he also joined. The new players were all branch leaders. Meetings at the Springer tavern, the new regional party leader Selke also came sometimes, and that alone made him obliged, so we were left alone at home.He also said that when he went to play Schkater at night, it would be better for Oskar to spend the night at Mrs. Truczynski's. Madame Truczynski readily agreed, and she even felt that this solution was much better than what Matzerath had suggested to her the day before without Maria's back.That is to say, instead of spending the night at Mrs. Truczynski's, Maria came to our house twice a week and slept on the sofa. Maria had slept in the wide bed which had formerly been the bed of my friend Herbert, with his scarred back.This bulky bed is placed in the smaller back room.Madame Truczynski's bed was in the living room.Gust Truczynski was, as usual, a waiter at the hors d'oeuvres counter in the Eden Hotel.She lives in a hotel and sometimes comes back during holidays, but she seldom stays at home overnight, and if she does, she sleeps on the sofa.If Fritz Truczynski came back from a distant country for vacation, the soldier on vacation or business trip would sleep in Herbert's bed, Maria would sleep in Madame Truczynski's bed, and the The old woman used the sofa as a bed. This fixed arrangement was disrupted by my demands.At first it was for me to sleep on the couch.I simply rejected this unreasonable request.So Madame Truczynski let me sleep in the bed where the old woman slept, and she preferred to sleep on the sofa.At this point Maria demurred, not wanting her elderly mother to be disturbed at night by discomfort, and said flatly that she would sleep with me in the same bed as Herbert's. "I can share a bed with little Oscar," she said. "He won't take up much room." In this way, from the following week, Maria carried my sleeping gear from the ground floor of my house to the third floor twice a week, and made a place for me and my drum on her left side for the night. .On the first night of Matzerath's schkatter game, nothing happened.I think Herbert's bed is huge.I will lie down first, Maria will come later.She showered in the kitchen and went into the bedroom in a ridiculously old, stiff pajamas.Oskar, who had expected her to come naked, was at first disappointed, then satisfied, for the nightgown passed down from his great-grandmother seemed to form a pleasant bridge, reminding him of nurses with ruffles. White clothes with pleats. Maria stood in front of the chest of drawers undoing her braids, whistling.Whenever Maria was dressing or undressing, undoing or braiding her hair, she always whistled.Even when combing her hair, she kept blowing two notes from her pursed lips, but never a tune. The whistling ceased as soon as Maria put down the comb.She turned, shook her hair, and in a few quick strokes she was arranging the contents of the chest of drawers, delighted by order, and sent a photo to the retouched photograph of her bearded father in the ebony frame. Blowing kisses, jumping with too much force, lying on the bed, bouncing up and down several times, the last time she bounced, she grabbed the duvet and slid down to the bottom of the mountain, disappearing from the chin down.She didn't even touch me who was lying next to her under her duvet, but stretched out the round arm from under the duvet, looking for the rope above her head that could pull out the lamp , found it, and turned off the light with a snap.In the darkness, she said to me in a loud voice: "Good night!" Maria's breathing soon became even.She probably not only pretended to be so, but actually fell asleep quickly, because she worked hard during the day and slept soundly at night. Oscar couldn't fall asleep for a long time, and a scene worthy of seeing rose in front of his eyes, driving away his drowsiness.In spite of the darkness between the light-shielding paper on the window and the walls, he saw the blond nurse standing behind Herbert's scarred back, saw Sugar Leo's wrinkled white shirt— —because it was nearby—turned into a seagull, and it flew, flew, smashed into a cemetery wall, made it look like it had been freshly painted, and so on.Only when a growing, drowsy smell of vanilla made these images flicker, flicker, disappear, did Oskar begin to breathe evenly, as Maria had already done. Three days later, Maria performed a teenage sex act for me, just as seriously.She came in in her pajamas, whistled and unbraided her hair, whistled and combed her hair, put down the comb, stopped whistling, straightened the chest of drawers, blew a kiss to the picture, jumped onto the bed with too much force, bounced up and down a few times , grabbed the duvet and behold—I looked at her back—she saw a little pocket—I admired her beautiful long hair—she found something green on the duvet—I She closed her eyes, determined to wait until she got used to seeing the packet of soda powder in front of her—the spring creaking under the fallen Maria; at this moment, there was only a click.When I opened my eyes because of the click, Oskar confirmed what he had expected: Maria had turned off the light and was breathing unevenly in the dark, still not used to seeing the packet of soda powder; however, It seems that whether the darkness she created alone will increase the weight of the soda powder, make the woodruff flourish, and add the bubbles fermented by soda to the night, it is still a question. I almost think that darkness is on Oscar's side.For after just a few minutes—if there is such a thing as a minute in a dark room—I felt movement at the head of the bed; Maria was catching the line, and the next thing I could appreciate Sitting Maria's pajamas have beautiful long hair.The room was illuminated by the uniform yellow light of electric bulbs under pleated shades.The duvet was still folded well over the feet, bulging and untouched.The small paper bag on the bed did not dare to move in the darkness just now.Maria's ancestral pajamas rustled, and one sleeve of the pajamas was raised together with the little hand inside, and Oscar's mouth was full of saliva. Over the next few weeks, the two of us cleared up more than a dozen soda powders, mostly woodruff flavored.In the end, the woodruff flavor was gone, so I replaced it with lemon and strawberry flavors.The method is always the same. I use my saliva to ferment it, which promotes a taste, and Maria knows how to taste this taste more and more.I practiced some drooling exercises, using some tricks to make the saliva flow into my mouth more and more quickly, and I was able to do it three times in a row, each time with a short interval, so that the soda powder in the small pocket added what Maria said. Give her the taste of longing again.Maria was very pleased with Oskar, and sometimes held him in her arms, and kissed him on the face, even twice or thrice, after taking soda powder.After turning off the lights, Oscar heard her giggling in the dark for a while, and then she often fell asleep very quickly. I'm having trouble falling asleep.I'm sixteen and active and need to drive away the drowsiness and combine my love for Maria with other, more amazing ways than to keep spit-ing my mouth with soda powder, always a taste. Oscar doesn't just think with the lights out.During the day, I also played the drum and thought, flipping through the excerpts of the book about Rasputin that I had read badly, and recalled the relationship between Gretchen Scheffler and my poor mother when she was in the class in the early years. I also asked Goethe, because I had not only Rasputin's but also Goethe's "Affinity", so I took the libido of the faith healer and used the poem Prince to dilute the natural feeling of being inclusive of the whole world.In my eyes, Maria looked at one moment like a czar, with the features of the Grand Duchess Anastasia, and at another like a lady chosen from Rasputin's eccentric aristocratic followers, in an exaggerated manner. In situations where bestiality repelled me, I saw Maria suddenly as transparent as the sky like Ottilie, or hidden behind Charlotte's refined, controlled passion.In Oskar's eyes he himself was changing, first as Rasputin himself, then as his murderer, often as a captain, rarely as Charlotte's capricious husband, and once—I must confess Confession—becoming a genius in the familiar shape of Goethe floating above the sleeping Maria. Oddly enough, I expected more inspiration from literature than from stark, down-to-earth life.Like Jan Bronski, I used to see him mess with my mother, but he couldn't teach me anything.Although I know that mother and Jan, or Matzerath and mother, take turns huddling together, panting, tense, finally moaning weakly, and parting stickily, and this means love, but Oscar is still unwilling Believe that this kind of love is love, and want to find another love from this kind of love, but what I think of again and again is this kind of love in a group, and after he practices it as love, he has to regard it as Hate the only love possible until it is maintained. Maria lay down and tasted the soda powder.It had become a habit for her legs to twitch and kick apart as soon as the soda powder started to foam.Therefore, several times, she had just tasted it, and her pajamas had slid up her thighs.The second time the soda powder frothed, her pajamas climbed over her belly and rolled under her breasts.For weeks I poured the powdered soda into her left hand, and this night, without thinking about reading Goethe or Rasputin beforehand, I spontaneously poured the powdered strawberry soda into her left hand. What was left of the pocket was poured over her navel.Before she could protest, my saliva was running up there, and when the crater began to boil, Maria lost the necessary reason for protesting, because a boiling, foaming navel was more effective than an empty palm. More advantages.While the soda powder is still the same soda powder, my drool is still my drool, and the taste hasn't changed, just thicker, much thicker.The smell became stronger and stronger, and Maria couldn't hold it in any longer.She leaned forward, trying to use her tongue to snuff out the frothy strawberries in the pot of her navel, as she used to do to the woodruffs in her palm, but her tongue wasn't long enough; Her tongue is farther than Asia or Tierra del Fuego.But Maria's navel was very close to me, and I stuck my tongue out for strawberries, and found more and more, so I got lost while gathering, and came to a place where no forest ranger asked you To gather a license, I feel obligated to gather every strawberry, I have only strawberries in my eyes, mind, ears and heart, and here I only taste strawberries, and since I am so absorbed in gathering strawberries, Oscar just said to himself in passing: Maria to you I am very satisfied with such efforts to collect!So she turned off the light.She fell asleep in peace and allowed you to continue to look for it, because Maria has a lot of strawberries on her body. When I could no longer find strawberries, I found mushrooms in another place quite by chance.It was hidden deep under the moss, out of my tongue's reach, so I let myself grow an eleventh finger, because my ten were equally useless.So Oscar got a third stick, which was old enough for this use.Instead of drums, I beat moss.I'm completely confused: am I knocking?Is this Maria?Is this my bitter moss or hers?Does the moss and the eleventh finger belong to someone else, but only the mushroom to me?Does the little gentleman below have his own mind, his own will?Who did all this: Oscar, him or me? Maria asleep on the upper body, awake on the lower body, harmless herbs and strong-smelling mushrooms under the moss, want soda powder, not this little gentleman, not even me, he has declared his independence, he has proved that he has a brain Yes, what he vomited, I did not pour him, he stood when I lay down, he dreamed different dreams than mine, he could neither read nor write, yet he signed for me , he still has his own way, from the day I felt him, he was separated from me, he was my enemy, and I had to make alliances with him again and again, he betrayed me, he left me when I was in danger , I want to betray and betray him, I'm ashamed of him, he's sick of me, I bathe him and he dirty me, he sees nothing but smells everything, he's a stranger to me Man, I really want to call him "you", he has a completely different memory than Oscar.Because today, when Maria came into my ward and Bruno, the nurse, retreated discreetly into the corridor, he no longer recognized Maria, did not want to, could not, at best posed indifferently.On the contrary, Oskar stammered, his heart agitated: "Maria, listen carefully to these sentimental suggestions: I can buy a compasses and draw a circle around us. I can use this same compass, Measure the inclination of your neck when you read, mend, or twist the knobs of my portable radio as you do now. Leave the radio alone, and listen to these gentle suggestions: I can have my eyes vaccinated, Make them cry again. Oscar can go to the nearest butcher and have his heart twisted in a tattoo machine, if you tattoo your soul in the same way. We can buy a stuffed animal and let It sits quietly between the two of us. If I make up my mind to dig for worms, and you're patient, we'll go fishing together to make us even happier. Or buy the soda powder from back in the day, remember? You put My name is woodruff, I foam, you ask for it, I give you the rest—Maria, soda powder, passionate advice! Why do you dial my radio, why do you only listen to the radio now, just Like you have a crazy thirst for special news?"