Chapter 33 Ant Avenue

Readers, imagine this!A pool of sky-blue tiles in which some sun-tanned people with a sensitivity to exercise swim.From the edge of the pool to the front of the shower room, sit equally tanned, equally sensitive men and women.And maybe music on a loudspeaker with the volume turned down.Healthy but uninteresting, mild dry lust in a tight bathing suit.The tile floor was slippery, but no one slipped.The few prohibition tokens, even those were superfluous, since swimmers only came in for two hours, and what was prohibited was what happened outside the pool.From time to time someone jumped from the three-meter diving board, but they could not attract the attention of the swimmers, nor could they lure the eyes of the lying swimmers away from the pictured newspapers. —Suddenly, a gust of wind!No, not the wind.It turned out to be a young man, slowly and purposefully climbing up the ladder of the ten-meter platform step by step.The magazine was set down with reports from Europe and overseas, and the eyes followed him up.The lying body grows longer, a young woman shades her eyes with her hands, someone forgets what he was thinking, fails to utter a word, a flirtation begins and ends prematurely in mid-sentence—and now he stands On the diving platform, with good physique and energy, bouncing up and down, leaning on the slightly curved steel pipe handrail, twisting the buttocks away from the handrail beautifully, walking on the high-hanging springboard that bounces up and down with every step, down Looking away, I gazed at the sky-blue, frighteningly small swimming pool.In the pool, red, yellow, green, white, red, yellow, green, white, red, yellow... The swimming cap of the swimming woman is like a changing kaleidoscope.There are acquaintances sitting below.Doris Schüller and Erica Schüller, Juta Danielle and her boyfriend, this man is not good enough for her.They waved, and Uta waved too.While maintaining his balance, he waved downwards.They shouted.What do they want to do?Try it, they cried; dance, cried Utta.He had no such intention at all, he just wanted to see what was going on above, so he slowly climbed down step by step.They shouted again, and everyone could hear them.They shouted: "Jump!"jump!Jump!

Staying on the diving platform so close to the sky is really a desperate situation. If I say this, you will definitely agree.The Ash-Scatterers and I were in a similar situation, but instead of swimming season it was January 1945.We climbed to the heights, which crowded the diving platform, and below, sat the judges, jury judges, witnesses, and court clerks in a stately horseshoe, around the waterless swimming pool. Stuartbeck stepped onto the springboard, which had no handrails but was elastic. "Jump!" cried the judges' chorus. Stuartbeck did not jump. At this moment, a slender girl in a small Berchtesgaden jacket and a pleated skirt stood up on the witness stand below.A white, no longer indistinct face—which, to this day, I averred, formed a triangle—raised up like a flashing finish marker.Lucy Lunwand did not shout, but whispered: "Jump, Steutbeck, jump!"

At this moment, Stuartbeck jumped up.Luzzi sat down again on the wooden bench in the witness stand and stretched the sleeves of her small braided Berchtesgaden jacket over her fists. Molkena limped onto the gangplank.The judge told him to jump.Molkena didn't want to jump, smiled embarrassedly at his nails, and waited until Luzilou rolled up the sleeves of his fleece jacket, showed his fists, and looked up at him with narrow eyes and black-framed triangles.At this time, he jumped towards the triangle with a clear goal, but he failed to achieve the goal. Coalpaw and Shirtless Angel are hostile when they get on the platform, and fight on the diving board.The shirtless angel was sprinkled with ashes, and even when he jumped down, Coalpaw still grabbed the shirtless angel and wouldn't let go.Deliche Hare, with long silky eyelashes, closed his roe deer eyes of infinite sorrow before jumping.

Air Force auxiliaries must remove their uniforms before jumping. The Lunwand brothers were also not allowed to jump down to heaven as partisans.Their sister, Luzie, who sat on the witness stand in a wartime wool jacket that showed off her hair, advocated jumping, and she would never tolerate them doing that. Contrary to historical records, Belissar and Nasses jumped first, followed by Totila and Thayer. Bluebeard danced, Lionheart danced, and the basic masses of the Ash-Scatterers gang—the Nose, the Bushmen, the Oilports, the Pipers, the Mustard Bottles, the Scimitars, and the Coopers—all danced.

Stuchel, a high school student with an unbearably squinting eye, can only be counted as half a member of the ashes-scattering gang, who happened to catch up that day.He jumped too.Jesus was the only one left on the diving board, and the judges' choir took him for Oscar Matzerath and ordered him to dance, but Jesus ignored him.With thin Mozart braids between his shoulder blades and a stern face, Luzi stood up from the witness stand again, rolled up the sleeves of his woolen jacket, and whispered with his closed mouth motionless: "Dance, sweet Jesus!" Let's jump!" At this moment, I understood the temptation of the ten-meter platform.At this time, the gray kitten is rolling in the hollow of my knee, the hedgehog is mating under my feet, and the swallow is spreading its wings in my armpit.At this time, not only Europa, but the whole world is at my feet.Americans and Japanese dance torch dances on Luzon Island.The thin and round eye buttons of their uniforms were missing.There was a tailor in Stockholm who was buttoning a generous striped evening dress.Mountbatten was feeding Burmese elephants with shells of various calibers.At this time, a widow in Lima was teaching the parrot to say the word "kalamba".At this moment, in the middle of the Pacific, two huge, Gothic cathedral-decorated aircraft carriers headed toward each other, letting their planes take off and sinking each other.Planes, unable to land, cornered, hung purely metaphorically like angels in the air, buzzing and consuming their fuel.That didn't bother one Haparanda tram conductor just off duty.He cracked eggs into a saucepan, two for himself and two for his fiancée.He had thought of everything beforehand, and waited for her arrival with a smile.It is not difficult to predict that the armies of Konev and Zhukov will go out again; when it rains in Iran, they will break through the Weiksel line, occupy Warsaw too late, and Konigsberg too early, but they will not would prevent a Panamanian woman with five children and a husband from boiling her milk on a gas stove.Obviously, the clues of current events, whose front end is unknown, are tangled into various knots and evolved into history, and the back end has been woven into history.I also noticed that loafing, frowning, bowing heads, shaking hands, giving birth, minting counterfeit money, turning off lights, brushing teeth, shooting, and changing diapers were everywhere, albeit with varying degrees of dexterity and proficiency.Dazed by so many purposeful actions, I turned my attention back to the trial that was being held in my honor at the foot of the diving platform. "Dance, sweet Jesus, dance!" whispered the precocious witness Luzy Lewand.She sat on Satan's arms, which made it even more obvious that she was still a virgin.Satan made her happy by giving her a sausage bun.She took a bite, still protecting chastity. "Jump, sweet Jesus!" she chewed, showing me her unbroken triangle.

-------- ①Refers to the U.S. military’s recovery of Luzon Island occupied by the Japanese army in May 1945. ② Refers to the Burmese offensive launched by General Mountbatten since 1944. ③The Soviet army captured Warsaw on January 17, 1945, surrounded Konigsberg on January 28, and the German defenders surrendered on April 10. I don't jump, and I will never jump off the platform.This isn't the last Oscar trial.There have been times, and even recently, when someone tried to entice me to dance.As in the trial of the ashes-spreader, in the trial of the Finger in the Ring—what I might call the third trial of Jesus, perhaps better—there was enough spectator around the edge of the azure-tiled swimming pool without water.They sat on the witness stand and wanted to live on through my trial and after my trial.

But I turned around and strangled the swallow in my armpit, crushed the wedding hedgehog under my shoe, starved the little gray cat in my knee—I despised the euphoric feeling of jumping down, and walked straight up the platform, shaking He staggered on the escalator and climbed down.I let each step of the escalator prove to me that not only can I get on the platform, but I can also get off the platform again without jumping. Below, waiting for me are Maria and Matzerath.Your Majesty Wink came to bless me uninvited.Gretchen Scheffler brought me a winter coat and cake.Little Kurt grew up knowing neither me as my father nor my half-brother.My grandmother Koljacek supported her brother Vinzent.Wenzent has a lot of experience, but his words are confusing.

As we were leaving the courthouse, a civil servant came up to Matzerath, handed him a letter, and said: "You really should think again, Mr. Matzerath. The boy has to get off the street. You see, What kind of guy abused such a child who couldn't take care of himself!" Maria wept and hung up the drum for me, which His Majesty Wienker had kept for me during the trial.We walked to the tram stop next to the train station.The last stretch of the route Matzerath hugged me.I looked over his shoulder, looking for a triangular face in the crowd, and wondered, if she had to get on the platform too, if she jumped down after Steutbeck and Morkena, if she too I also learned that escalators serve a second purpose: to allow people to climb down.

To this day I have not been able to break the habit of looking around in the streets and squares, looking for a thin "fried fish" who is neither handsome nor ugly, but who keeps on murdering men.Even lying in a nursing home bed, I would be startled when Bruno announced a stranger's visit.What I'm afraid of is this: here comes Luzie Lunwand, the child-frightening wretch and black cook, and she's coming for the last time to order you to jump down. -------- ① "Fried fish" refers to a girl who is close to adulthood (14 to 17 years old), a yellow-haired girl. For ten days Matzerath considered whether he should sign the letter and send it back to the Ministry of Health.On the eleventh day he signed and mailed it, but by this time the city was under artillery fire and it was doubtful whether the post office would be able to send the letter.The vanguard of Marshal Rokossovsky's tanks has reached Erpin.The German Second Army under Weiss moved into positions on the high ground around Danzig.Cellar life begins.

-------- ① The date is February 10, 1945. We all know that our cellar is under the shop.Go down the cellar door opposite the toilet in the hallway and walk up eighteen steps.In front of it are the cellars of Carter and Hyland, and behind it are those of Schrager.Old Hyland is still there.But Mrs. Carter, the watchmaker Raubshad, the Ecks, and the Schragers left with some luggage.I heard later that they, together with Gretchen Scheffler and Alexander Scheffler, boarded a ship that used to belong to the group "Strength Comes of Joy" at the last minute and headed towards Szczecin. Either in the direction of Lübeck or towards a mine, and was blown into the air.All in all, more than half of the dwellings and cellars are empty.

The good thing about my local store is that there is a second entrance, which we all know is under the hanging door behind the counter in the shop.This way no one could see what Matzerath was moving into the cellar and what was being taken out of the cellar.Anyone who saw Matzerath's stockpiles there during the war years would have envied us.The dry, warm cellars were stocked with the necessities of life: beans of all kinds, pasta, sugar, artificial honey, flour, and margarine.Cases of crunchy bread stacked on top of cases of cooking coconut oil.Cans of mixed vegetables, together with cans of Mirabelli plums, green peas and plums, were stacked on several wooden shelves, which Matzerath, the man of action, had made himself, and were fastened to dowels at the top of the wall.About the middle of the war, at Greve's initiative, several beams were added between the cellar ceiling and the concrete floor, making this storehouse of necessities also a legally secure air-raid room.Matzerath had tried several times to remove the beams, as Danzig had not suffered major bombings other than harassing raids.Greve, who was an air defense officer, was dead, and he could no longer be advised.At this time, Maria begged him to keep the few supporting beams.For little Kurt, she needs safety, sometimes for me. During the first air raids at the end of January, Old Heilander and Matzerath carried Madam Truczynski into the cellar of our house together with her chair.Later, they didn't care about her, maybe it was because she expressed something, or maybe it was too much effort to lift up and down, so they left her in front of the bedroom window.After a big bombing of the inner city, Maria and Matzerath noticed that the old man had his chin hanging and rolled his eyes, as if a sticky little fly flew into her eyes. So the bedroom door came off its hinges.Old Heylander fetched tools and a few box boards from his warehouse, smoked the Derby cigarettes Matzerath had given him, and took measurements.Oscar helped him with the work.The rest took refuge in cellars as the shelling of the heights resumed. Old Hyland wanted to finish the work quickly, nailing a crude box that was as big as both ends.Oscar insisted on making the traditional coffin shape, without giving an inch.I supported the board for him and asked him to saw it according to the size I specified. In the end, he still made up his mind to make a small shape, which is also required by any human body. In the end, the coffin looked exquisite.Mrs. Greff wiped Madame Truczynski's body, took a freshly laundered pajamas from a cupboard, cut her nails, combed her hair and fastened it with three knitting needles.In short, she had taken great pains to make Mrs. Truczynski look like a gray mouse in death, and in life she liked to drink malt coffee and eat potato pancakes. The mouse, which had been convulsed during the bombing, lay in the coffin with its knees swelled.Hyland took advantage of the short few minutes when Maria left the room with little Kurt in his arms, broke her leg, and then nailed the coffin lid. It's a pity that my house only has yellow paint and no black paint.And so Madame Truczynski was carried out of the apartment and down the stairs in an unpainted but small wooden crate.I followed behind with my drum on my back, paying attention to the words on the lid of the coffin: VITELLO MARGARINE - VITELLO MARGARINE - VITELLO MARGARINE, three lines above and below, equally spaced.This afterthought proved what Madam Truczynski's taste was.She would rather eat Vitello's margarine made from pure vegetable fat than the best real butter while she was alive, because margarine makes a person healthy, alive, nourishing, and happy after eating it. The coffin lay on a flatbed at Greve's vegetable store.The old Hylandra drove through Luisenstrasse, Mariastrasse, over Anton Möllerstrasse - where two houses were on fire - in the direction of the Women's Hospital.Little Coulter was left in the cellar of our house in the care of the widow, Mrs. Greve.Maria and Matzerath pushed the cart, and Oscar sat in the cart. He would rather sit on the coffin, but he was not allowed to sit on it.The streets were jammed with refugees from East Prussia and Weldel.The railway underpass in front of the stadium is simply impassable.Matzerath suggested digging a hole in the Conrad school garden.Maria objected.Old Hyland, who was the same age as Mrs. Truczynski, also waved him down.I'm also against being buried on campus.In any case, we had to give up going to the municipal cemetery, because only military vehicles are allowed from the stadium to Hindenburger Strasse.So we shall not be able to bury the mouse beside her son Herbert.We picked out a place for her in Steffen Gardens behind May Meadows, across from the Municipal Cemetery.The ground is frozen.Matzerath and old Heilander took turns wielding the pointed pick, Maria was digging ivy beside the stone bench, Oscar took the opportunity to slip away, and soon came to the tree trunks on Hindenburger Strasse.The traffic is chaotic!The tanks from the high ground and the tanks from Weldel came across.From the tree—if I remember correctly, it was the linden tree—the members and soldiers of the People's Stormtroopers were hung.The cards on the buttons of their uniforms still read something: Traitors are hanged from these trees or lindens.I observed the grinning faces of many hanged men, and compared them generally, and specifically with the hanged greengrocer Greve.I also observed a few hanging young men wearing fat uniforms, and I thought several of them were Stuartbecks—the hanged boys looked almost the same—I said to myself, now they put Shi Dietbeck Trebek hanged himself.Did they hang Lucy Lewand too? -------- ①This is a militia formed by men who were mobilized by Nazi Germany who were over or under the age of military service on the eve of their fall.Some of them were hanged for cowardice or desertion. This thought seemed to give Oscar wings.He went through the trees looking for a thin girl who had been hanged, and even dared to go through the tanks to the other side of the avenue, but there he found only soldiers, elderly Volksturmen and A lad who resembles Stuartbeck.Disappointed, I walked along the boulevard to the half-destroyed Four Seasons Cafe and reluctantly went back.When I stood by the grave of Madame Truczynski, and Maria strewed ivy and leaves over the mound, the image of Luzi being hanged haunted me, down to the last detail. We no longer send Widow Greve's flatbed back to the greengrocer.Matzerath and Old Heylander took it apart and put all the components in front of the counter.The colonial merchandiser handed the old man three packs of Derbys and said to him, "Maybe we can use the car. It's safer here." Old Hyland said nothing, but grabbed several packets of needles and two paper bags of sugar from the almost empty shelf.Then he pulled the pair of felt slippers that he wore all the time on the commute and at the burial out of the shop, and let Matzerath move the few remaining goods on the shelves into the cellar. Now, we hardly ever go out of the cave anymore.It is said that the Russians have already reached the Ziganken Mountains, the village of Pitzgen, and are near Schedlitz.In any case, they had to occupy the high ground before they could bombard the city in a straight line.You City, Old City, Pepper City, Qian City, New New City, New City, and Lower City were built in more than seven hundred years, but burned down in three days.But this is not the first fire in Danzig City.The Pomerans, the Brandenburgers, the Teutonic Knights, the Poles, the Swedes (twice), the French, the Prussians, and the Russians, and the Saxons, made history before that, Every few decades it feels like the city deserves to be burned.Now, the Russians, the Poles, the Germans, and the English, together, burn the bricks of Gothic brickwork for the hundredth time, without getting toast from it.Hecker's Lane, Long Lane, Broad Lane, Great and Little Woolweaver's Lane are burning, Tobias Lane, Dog Lane, Old Ditch, Former Ditch are burning, Ramparts and Longbridge are burning.The Crane Gate is a wooden structure, and the flames are particularly beautiful.In Little Pants Tailor Lane, the fire measures many, many pairs of flaming trousers.St. Mary's Church burned from the inside out, festive lights pouring out of the pointed arched windows.St. Catarina, St. John, St. Brigitte, St. Barbara, Elizabeth, Peter and Paul, Trinity and Corpus Christi churches are not removed and the remaining bells are melted in the bell tower frame, iron The water dripped, and there was neither song nor music.In the big mill, the red wheat is ground.In Butchers Lane there was the smell of burning Sunday roasts.At the Municipal Theater, premiere of "Arsonist's Dream", a one-act play with a double meaning.In City Hall on the right, the decision to increase firefighter salaries after the fire and retroactively, Holy Spirit Lane is burning in the name of the Holy Spirit.The Franciscan Monastery burns joyfully in the name of Saint Francis who loved and sang fire.Women's Lane was destroyed by father and son.It is self-evident that the lumber market, the coal market, and the straw market have been burned to ashes.On Bakers Lane, buns no longer come out of the oven.In Milk Pot Lane, the milk boiled to overflowing.Only the building of the West Prussian Fire Insurance Company was not burned for purely symbolic reasons. Oscar had never been very interested in burning.If I hadn't put my little but flammable belongings carelessly in the laundry room, then when Matzerath climbed the stairs to the laundry room to watch Danzig burning, I'll stay in the cellar too.My last few front troupe spare drums, my Goethe, and Rasputin must be rescued.I also had to protect the very thin drawing fan that was tucked into the book, my Rosweta, the fan that Laguna was good at flicking gracefully when she was alive.Maria remained in the cellar.Little Kurt insisted on watching the fire on the roof with me and Matzerath.On the one hand, I was angry at my son's uncontrolled enthusiasm, but on the other hand, I said to myself: It was passed down to him by his great-grandfather, mine, the arsonist Koljacek.Maria left little Kurt downstairs and allowed me to go upstairs with Matzerath.I took my belongings, looked out of the clothes-room window, and was amazed at how the ancient city could spring to life with such flaming vigor. A few shells exploded nearby before we left the laundry room.Later, Matzerath wanted to go up, but was forbidden by Maria.He obeyed.He wept as he described the fire in detail to the widow Greve, who was also in the cellar.He went back to the apartment again, turned on the radio, but heard nothing again.Not even the hiss of flames from the burning radio building, let alone any special news. Matzerath hesitated like a child who didn't know whether he should continue to believe in Santa Claus, standing in the middle of the floor, pulling his trouser suspenders, expressing doubts for the first time and finally winning, and following the advice of the widow Greve, picking He took off the party badge on the lapel of his jacket, but he didn't know where to hide it, because the cellar was a concrete floor, and Mrs. Greve didn't want to take the badge from him.Maria thought he could bury it in potatoes for the winter, but Matzerath didn't think that was safe enough.As for going upstairs, he dared not, because they were coming soon.If they're not already there, they're halfway there.They had been fighting near Brentau and Oliva while he was in the laundry room.He expressed regret several times, why didn't he leave this piece of fruit candy upstairs in the anti-aircraft sand, if they saw him here, and saw that he was still holding this piece of fruit candy...he threw it on the On the concrete floor, I was about to step on it, and for a while, Kurt Jr. and I rushed over at the same time.I caught it first.I was still holding it when Kurt Jr. punched me.Little Kurt always hits people when he wants something, but I didn't give my son the party badge, I didn't want him to be in danger, and I can't joke with the Russians.Oscar knew this when he read Rasputin's textbook.While Kurt Jr. was beating me and Maria was pulling the two of us apart, I wondered who would find the horse in Kurt Jr.'s hands if Oscar gave in under his son's punches and kicks. What about Zerath's party emblem?Belarusians or Russians, Cossacks or Georgians, Kalmyks or Crimean Tatars, Rutinis or Ukrainians or Kyrgyzs? -------- ① Refers to the entry of the Soviet army into Langfur, on March 28, 1945. Maria separated us only with the help of the widow Greve.I hit the ground running and clenched this piece of fruit candy with my left hand.Matzerath was happy, his badge was gone.Maria deals with crying Kurt Jr.The open badge pin pricks my palm.As always, I'm not interested in this stuff.What does Matzerath's party matter to me?I was just about to reglue Matzerath's fruit candy back onto his jacket when they arrived in the shop above us.Judging from the screams of the women, they also probably entered the cellars of the neighbors. The pin of the badge was still piercing me as they pulled open the portcullis.I had no choice but to squat in front of Maria's trembling knees and watch the ants on the concrete floor whose military avenue ran diagonally from the pile of overwintered potatoes across the cellar to a sack full of sugar.Six soldiers huddled on the cellar stairs, machine guns in hand, eyes wide open.A perfectly normal, mildly promiscuous Russian, I reckon.Amid all the cries, it was consoling that the ants were not in the slightest affected by the presence of the Russian soldiers.The ants only want potatoes and sugar. Those with machine guns have other plans.Adults put their hands up, which I think is normal.This can be seen in the weekly newsreels; a similar surrender occurred after the defense of the Polish post office.But why does little Kurt want to imitate the grown-ups?I do not understand.He should follow the example of me—his father, or else he should also follow the example of the ant.Three of the four square uniforms took an interest in the Widow Greve, and there was a sudden movement in the stiff gang.Mrs. Greve, a long-widowed woman who had just passed Lent, could not have expected so many visitors.She exclaimed at first, but then quickly fell into a situation she had almost forgotten. I had already read in Rasputin's books that Russians love children.I experienced it firsthand in the cellar of my home.Maria was trembling for no reason, and she couldn't understand why those four people who didn't deal with Mrs. Greve let little Coulter sit in her arms instead of taking his place themselves.They stroked little Kurt, said "okay" to him, and patted him and Mariah on the cheeks. Someone picked me up from the concrete floor and interrupted me to continue to compare and observe the ants and use the diligence of the ants to measure what is happening now.My tin drum still hangs in front of my stomach.The short, stocky, large-pored man tapped a few bars on the drum with his thick fingers and could dance to the beat, by no means clumsy for a grown man.Oskar really wanted to reward him, and really wanted to put a few art sketches on the iron sheet, but unfortunately he couldn't, because Matzerath's party emblem was still piercing the palm of his left hand. The atmosphere in my cellar has become peaceful and intimate.Mrs. Greve lay, more and more peacefully, while the three men waited until one was satisfied before switching to the other.Oskar was handed over by the rather talented drummer to a sweaty, slit-eyed — we assume — Kalmyk.He has already hugged me with his left hand, and he is still buttoning his trousers with his right hand. Seeing that the one who just hugged me, that is, the one who just played my drum very talentedly, unbuttoned his trousers, he didn't mind at all.Matzerath could not change his position.He was still standing in front of the tin cans of Leipzig mezze, holding his hands up, showing all the prints, except that no one wanted to look at them.On the contrary, the woman's understanding proved to be amazing: Maria learned a few words of Russian, her knees stopped chattering, and she even laughed.If her harmonica had been around, she would have played the flute. Oscar could not quickly adapt to the changed situation.He was looking for an alternative to ants, and turned to observe the many flat, grey-brown worms that appeared at the edge of my Kalmyk's collar.How I would like to catch such a louse and study it!Lice are also mentioned in my textbooks, Goethe seldom, Rasputin often.It is difficult for me to catch lice with one hand, so I tried to get rid of the party emblem.Now let Oskar explain all his actions: Since the Kalmyk already had many medals hanging on his chest, I stretched out the hand I had been holding together with the piece of fruit candy that stabbed my palm and prevented me from catching lice. To Matzerath standing next to me.Today, some people will say that I shouldn't have done this at the time; others will say that Matzerath should not have picked it up. He took it.I finally got rid of that piece of fruit candy.Matzerath was frightened when he felt the badge of his party pinched between his fingers.I'm now empty-handed, I don't want to be a witness, I don't care what Matzerath does with his fruit candies.Oscar was too distracted to catch the lice, so he wanted to focus on observing the ants again, but saw Matzerath's hand make a quick movement.Today, Oscar couldn't remember what he was thinking at the time, so he could only say this: it would be a wiser way to calmly hold this colorful round thing in his hand. But Matzerath wanted to get rid of it, and as cook and colonial shop window decorator his imagination often proved practicable, but at this moment he could find no second choice but his mouth. Here comes the stash. How important is such a short hand movement!From the hand to the mouth, it was enough to startle the two Ivans sitting peacefully next to Maria, one on the left and one on the right, and drive them away from the air-raid beds.They pointed machine guns at Matzerath's belly.At this time, everyone could see that Matzerath was trying to swallow something. Before that, he should have used at least three fingers to fasten the pin on the party emblem.Now he's choked up by this nasty piece of fruit candy, flushed, wide-eyed, coughing, crying and laughing, and he can no longer hold his hands up because of all this simultaneous emotional activity .The Ivans cannot tolerate this.They growled to see his palms.But Matzerath was so preoccupied with his respiratory organs that he didn't even have a good cough.He began to dance around, sweeping tin cans of Leipzig mezze off the shelves, which had an effect on my Kalmyk.He had been watching calmly with his eyes squinted, and now he carefully put me aside, reached behind his back, adjusted something to a horizontal position, and fired from waist height, finishing a round of bullets.He fired before Matzerath was choked to death. What a man can't do when fate shows his face!While my imaginary father died swallowing his party coat of arms, I unconsciously or unintentionally strangled a lice between my fingers that I had just caught on a Kalmyk.Matzerath fell down and lay on the ant road.The Ivans left the cellar, went up the stairs to the shop, and took a few small boxes of artificial honey.My Kalmyk was the last to go, he didn't take the artificial honey, because he had to put a load of ammunition in the machine gun.Widow Greve lay in a mess in the middle of the margarine crate.Maria hugged little Kurt as if to crush him.A sentence structure that I had once read in a Goethe book came to mind.The ants found that the environment had changed, and they were not afraid of detours, so they built another military road to bypass the huddled Matzerath, because the sugar leaking from the cracked pockets was not affected by Marshal Rokossovsky's army. Occupied the city of Danzig and lost its sweetness.