Page 247 - The Book Thief
P. 247
His mustache was knitted to his face. Words were whispered to him from his
trainer, Goebbels. He bounced foot to foot, and he smiled. He smiled loudest
when the ring announcer listed his many achievements, which were all
vociferously applauded by the adoring crowd. Undefeated! the ringmaster
proclaimed. Over many a Jew, and over any other threat to the German ideal!
Herr Fhrer, he concluded, we salute you! The crowd: mayhem.
Next, when everyone had settled down, came the challenger.
The ringmaster swung over toward Max, who stood alone in the challengers
corner. No robe. No entourage. Just a lonely young Jew with dirty breath, a
naked chest, and tired hands and feet. Naturally, his shorts were gray. He too
moved from foot to foot, but it was kept at a minimum to conserve energy. Hed
done a lot of sweating in the gym to make the weight.
The challenger! sang the ringmaster. Of, and he paused for effect, Jewish blood.
The crowd oohed, like human ghouls. Weighing in at . . .
The rest of the speech was not heard. It was overrun with the abuse from the
bleachers, and Max watched as his opponent was derobed and came to the
middle to hear the rules and shake hands.
Guten Tag, Herr Hitler. Max nodded, but the Fhrer only showed him his yellow
teeth, then covered them up again with his lips.
Gentlemen, a stout referee in black pants and a blue shirt began. A bow tie was
fixed to his throat. First and foremost, we want a good clean fight. He addressed
only the Fhrer now. Unless, of course, Herr Hitler, you begin to lose. Should
this occur, I will be quite willing to turn a blind eye to any unconscionable
tactics you might employ to grind this piece of Jewish stench and filth into the
canvas. He nodded, with great courtesy. Is that clear?
The Fhrer spoke his first word then. Crystal.
To Max, the referee extended a warning. As for you, my Jewish chum, Id watch
my step very closely if I were you. Very closely indeed, and they were sent back
to their respective corners.
A brief quiet ensued.
