Page 56 - I Live in the Slums: Stories (The Margellos World Republic of Letters)
P. 56

mouse? I struggled, but the club didn’t budge. Soon I would suffocate.
               Everything went black before my eyes. Was I going to die? It was so hot. But
               suddenly the man loosened his grip on the club and said, “A snake can’t warm
               up.” I touched the blister on my nose. Indeed, my claws were ice-cold. No
               wonder he said I was a snake!
                   Had I been disinfected? I had no idea. I slowly came out from under the bed
               and once more heard Auntie Shrimp’s voice: “I’ve never seen such a clean

               mouse before! But he’ll be dirty again tomorrow and he’ll have to be roasted
               again. Huh! If he were like the others, I’d take him back.” By “the others,” I
               knew she meant the ones who were supposedly my kin. They had become
               burning pieces of coal, so of course they couldn’t have viruses. But how had
               they gotten like this? Auntie Shrimp didn’t seem to be planning for me to go
               back. She stared at me coldly from the window. Did they really intend to roast
               me like this every day? Even if they did, how could a snake turn into a red-hot
               coal? My kin who had been swept out from under the bed lined up along the foot
               of the wall. The old man swept across with the club. Routed again, they scurried
               under the bed. Tired out from hitting them, he stood with arms akimbo in the
               middle of the room and said, “You sluggards! Watch out—my club means
               business!” I looked under the bed: those little things were trembling! The little

               rooster flew from his shoulder to midair, then dropped down and set off a
               heatwave in the room. When this wave struck me, I fell back a few paces and
               leaned against the wall. I noticed that the landlord wasn’t emitting heat, and yet
               he wasn’t afraid of it, either. How come? He set down his club and took
               something to eat out of the kitchen cupboard. He seemed to be eating little black
               balls. Judging from his table manners, the food was hard. A cracking sound
               came from between his teeth: Was he eating something metal? What strong teeth
               he had! Just then, a ray of sunlight flashed in from the open door, and all at once
               I got a good look at his face. A huge tumor on the left side of his face pulled his
               mouth and nose to one side. The tumor was so red that it was almost purple. To
               my surprise, a brass ring was pierced through the top of it, and pus ran out from
               that ring. Damn, his body was so toxic, and yet he devoted himself to
               disinfecting animals! People, huh? Oh, people. No way could I understand them!
               He chewed and swallowed down all those little balls. His teeth were like steel.
               “Yi Tinglai! Yi Tinglai!” Auntie Shrimp was standing at the door. Why was his
               name Yi Tinglai—“First Responder”? How weird! Auntie Shrimp said, “I won’t

               feel better until he’s as clean as you. He always gets dirty!” The old man gave a
               devilish laugh. I couldn’t see even one tooth in the dark cavity that was his
               mouth. How had he bitten those little balls? “Are you leaving now? You aren’t
               taking him with you?” the old man asked Auntie Shrimp. “I have to go. The road
               will be blocked soon. As for the little mouse, I’ll leave him with you. I’m sorry
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