The Complete Tales of Merry Gold - Excerpt

A Whirly-Gig Tale

Long ago I reached the end of my luck. Yet when I was a child I lay in my cradle asleep. “Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home, your house is on fire, your children alone” I played in my mind. My mother came in and said, “So you’ve gone to dreaming, my pretty? Gey schluffen. In the meantime, go down to the kitchen and wash a handful of grapes. I’ll be glad to have them when I wake up.” Then she plucked me out of the cradle, climbed in it herself and crewed her eyes shut. I crept down to the kitchen to get the grapes. Now, don’t cover your ears, but when I reached into the fridge a viper shot out and headed right for me. Leaving the green grapes untouched, I ran away very fast. (After that, my father came into the kitchen and popped the grapes into his mouth, one after the other, one after the other again.) All the while, my mother slept in that crib, curled like a roly-poly into a ball. And as for me? The viper chased me and chased me, slithering fast on the ground. This went on for hours until I hid behind a maple tree, shaking mad. The viper crept slowly away. This is why, since my earliest days, I plan a whirly-gig right on my nose whenever I’m mad. It provides a very strong message to vipers and creatures that crawl close to the ground—inchworms and earthworms and seals. I’ve reached the end of my story and also the end of my luck. Would you hand me a glassful of vodka?