The Republic of Wine
He shook his clawlike hand and roared at the top of his lungs. The moon lit up his pale little face, from which two green lights emerged. Two of the boys burst into tears.
‘No crying!’ he screamed.
Reaching into the cluster of children, he dragged out the two crying boys and drove his fist into each of their little bellies, sending them thudding to the floor, where they rolled around like basketballs.
He laid down the law: ‘I’ll do the same to anybody I catch crying!’
The huddle of children grew tighter. None dared to cry.
‘Just wait,’ he said. ‘Leave the search for brightness up to me.’
He immediately commenced a search of the strange and very large room, hugging the walls like a prowling cat. Near the door he stopped and looked up at four lamp cords hanging in a row from the ceiling. He reached up, but the cords were a good three feet from the tip of his middle finger. He jumped a couple of times, but even with plenty of spring in his legs, he barely halved the distance. So, moving away from the wall, he dragged over a willow tree welded out of iron, climbed to the top, then grabbed the lamp cords and gave them a hard tug. With a crackle, all the lights in the room snapped on. There were neon lights, incandescent lamps, tungsten lamps, white lights, blue lights, red lights, green lights, and yellow lights. There were lights on the walls, lights in the ceiling, lights on the artificial hill, and lights on the artificial trees. The lights were blinding and multi-hued, like heaven and earth in a fairy-tale world. Forgetting their miseries and their worries, the children clapped and shouted joyously.
The little demon curled his lip derisively as he marveled over the masterpiece he had created. Then he went to the corner, where he picked up a ring of brass bells and shook them vigorously. Peals rang out, drawing the boys’ rapt attention. He wrapped the bells, which seemed to have been put there just for him, around his waist, spit out a mouthful of phlegm, and said:
Children, do you know where all this light comes from? No, you don’t. You’re from remote, backward villages where you smash rocks to make fire, so of course you don’t know where it comes from. I’ll tell you. The source of this light is called electricity.’
The children listened without making a peep. The red moon had receded from the room, leaving behind a row of gleaming eyes. The two boys who had been knocked to the ground climbed to their feet.
Is electricity good?’ he asked.
‘Yes, it is!’ the boys replied in unison.
‘Am I talented or aren’t I?’
‘Yes, you are!’
‘Are you going to do as I say?’
‘Yes, we are!’
‘All right, children, do you want a daddy?’
‘Yes, we do!’
‘Starting today, I’ll be your daddy. I’ll protect you, I’ll teach you and I’ll supervise you. Anyone who disobeys me will be drowned in the pool. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, we do!’
‘Call me Daddy three times. All together now.’
‘Daddy - Daddy - Daddy!’
‘Down on your knees and kowtow to me, all of you. Three times!’
Some of the boys, those with weak minds, did not understand everything the little demon said, but their ability to follow came to their aid. Thirty-one little boys fell to their knees in ragtag fashion, laughing and giggling, to kowtow to the little demon, who jumped onto the artificial hill and sat in the lotus position to receive his sons’ kneeling salute.
Once the ritual was ended, he selected four of the glibbest, most agile youngsters as team leaders and divided the thirty-one boys into four teams. With that done, he said:
‘Children, from this moment on, you are warriors. Warriors are bold youngsters who dare to fight and dare to conquer. I will train you to struggle against all people who want to eat us.’
Team One’s leader asked out of curiosity:
‘Daddy, who wants to eat us?’
‘Bastard!’ The little demon shook his bells. ‘Don’t ever interrupt me when I’m speaking.’
Team One’s leader said:
‘I made a mistake, Daddy. I won’t interrupt again.’
The little demon said:
‘Comrades, children, now I’ll tell you who it is who wants to eat us! They have red eyes, green fingernails, and gold-capped teeth!’
‘Are they wolves? Or tigers?’ asked a chubby, dimpled boy.
Team One’s leader gave little fatty a slap.
‘Don’t interrupt when Daddy’s speaking!’ he reprimanded him.
The fat kid bit his lip and stifled his sobs.
‘Comrades, children, they aren’t wolves, but they’re meaner than wolves. And they’re not tigers, but they’re scarier than tigers.’
‘Why do they eat children?’
The little demon frowned.
‘That makes me really, really mad! I said, no interruptions. Team leaders, take that boy out and make him stand alone as punishment.’
The four team leaders dragged the loose-lipped little boy out of the group; he bawled and fought so hard, you’d have thought they were dragging him to his execution. The moment they loosened their grip, his legs started churning and he hightailed it back to the group. When the team leaders ran back to drag him out again, they were stopped by the little demon:
‘Forget it, let him off this time! But let me repeat myself: You children are not permitted to interrupt when Daddy’s talking. Why do they want to eat children? Simple, they’ve grown tired of eating beef, lamb, pork, dog, donkey, rabbit, chicken, duck, pigeon, mule, camel, horse, hedgehog, sparrow, swallow, wild goose, common goose, cat, rat, weasel, and lynx, so they want to eat children. It’s because our meat is more tender than beef, fresher than lamb, more fragrant than pork, fattier than dog, softer than mule, harder than rabbit, silkier than chicken, more dynamic than duck, more straightforward than pigeon, livelier than donkey, more pampered than camel, springier than horse, finer than hedgehog, more dignified than sparrow, fairer than swallow, more mature than wild goose, not as chafly as common goose, more sedate than cat, more nutritious than rat, less demonic than weasel, and more common than lynx. Our meat tops the charts.’
Having exhausted his list and his wind, the little demon spit on the floor, looking a bit more tired than when he started.
‘Daddy,’ Team Two’s leader spoke up timidly, 'I've got something to say. Is it all right?’
‘Go ahead. I’ve talked myself out. Daddy would love to smoke some hemp right about now. Too bad there isn’t any.’ The little demon yawned.
‘How do they eat us, Daddy? Raw?’
‘They have many ways: fried, steamed, braised, cold sliced, fried with vinegar, dry fried, many many ways, but usually not raw. I said usually. They say a certain vice-mayor named Shen once ate a child raw, dipped in imported Japanese vinegar.’
The children huddled tightly, the timid ones sobbing softly.
That invigorated the little demon, who said, ‘Children, comrades, that is why you must do as I say. At this critical juncture, you must show your maturity and transform yourselves overnight into indomitable heroes. No more boo-hoos, no more sniveling. The only way to keep them from eating us is to unite as one, become an impregnable wall of iron and steel. We must become a hedgehog, a porcupine. They’ve eaten all the porcupine they want, and our meat is a lot milder than a porcupine’s. We must become a steel hedgehog, an iron porcupine, so we can make mush out of those man-eating monsters’ lips and tongues! They might eat well, but well mess up their digestion!’
‘But, but, these lights …’ Team Four’s leader was stammering.
The little demon waved him off. ‘I know what’s on your mind, you don’t have to say it. What you want to know is, if they plan to eat us, why give us such beautiful surroundings. Am I right?’
Team Four leader nodded.
‘All right, I’ll tell you,’ the little demon said. ‘Fourteen years ago, when I was still a child, I heard people say that the dignitaries of Liquorland a
te little boys, and there were enough details in the rumor to make it frightening and mysterious at the same time. After that, my mother started delivering one baby boy after another. But every one of them reached the age of two, then suddenly disappeared. All I could think was, my kid brothers were eaten. At the time, I was ready to expose this monstrous crime, but was thwarted by a mysterious skin disease - scales all over my body that oozed pus when you touched them. It made people sick just to look at me, and no one saw me as an edible commodity. That kept me out of the tiger’s lair. Eventually, I turned to thievery. One day, I broke into an official’s home and drank a bottle of liquor with paintings of apes on the label Lo and behold, the scales began to fall off. With each layer, I got smaller, which is why I look like this today. So even though I have the appearance of a child, my mental capacity is as broad as the ocean. Their secret of eating children must be revealed, and I shall be your savior!’
The children’s attention was fixed on the little demon and his revelations.
‘Now why have they put us in such a big, beautiful room?’ he continued. ‘Because they want us to be content. If we’re not, our meat will turn sour and chewy. Children, comrades, this is what I want you to do. Turn this place into a shambles!’
The little demon picked up a rock from the artificial hill, took aim at a bright red lamp on the wall, and flung it. With his strength, the rock raised a draft as it cut through the air. But his aim was off- the rock thudded against the wall and bounced straight back, nearly taking the head off one of the boys. The little demon picked it up, took aim again and threw it. Another miss. This time followed by curses. He picked it up again, mustered up the tenacious strength of a baby at the nipple - Fuck your mother! - and heaved it with all his might. This time he was right on target. The lamp shattered, sending shards raining down on the floor; the forked filament blazed red for an instant, then went dark.
The children stood stock-still, watching him like marionettes.
‘Smash, start smashing! What are you waiting for?’
Some of the little boys yawned.
‘Daddy, I’m sleepy, I want to go to bed…’
The little demon rushed up and started punching and kicking the yawning boys, eliciting yelps and screeches; one of the bolder, stronger boys actually hit back, drawing blood on the little demon’s face. Seeing his own blood, he stepped up and sank his teeth into the boy’s ear with such ferocity that he bit off half of it.
That was when the door opened.
An elderly serving woman in a spotless white uniform opened the door and rushed into the room. It wasn’t easy, but she finally managed to separate the little demon and the little boy, who was crying so hard he nearly passed out. The little demon was spitting blood, green light streamed from his eyes. But he didn’t say a word. His victim’s severed ear was twitching on the floor. When the serving woman spotted the ear, then the little demon’s face, she paled, let out a fearful yelp, and ran out of the room, her rear end wrenching from side to side, the heels of her shoes raising a mad tattoo on the floor.
The little demon climbed the iron willow tree and pulled the plug on all the lights; a soft threat filled the enclosing darkness:
I’ll bite the ear off anybody who squeals!’
He then walked over to the artificial hill, where he washed the blood off his mouth at the waterfall.
A clatter of footsteps sounded outside the door. Most likely a horde of people about to enter the room. So the little demon picked up the rock with which he’d smashed the wall lamp and hid behind the iron willow tree to wait.
The door was pushed open and a white figure entered, hugging the wall as it groped along in the dark. The little demon took aim at the upper half of the figure and let fly. The figure cried out in pain and started to wobble; the people on the other side of the door ran off in panic. The little demon went over, picked up the rock, took aim on the white figure again, and heaved it with all his might. The figure crumpled to the floor.
A while later, beams of bright light streamed in the door, followed by people with flashlights. The little demon scooted nimbly into the corner, where he lay on the floor, face down, and pretended to be asleep.
Then the lights snapped on above seven or eight husky men, who picked up the unconscious serving woman in white. They also picked up the injured boy, along with his severed ear, and carried them out of the room. Then it was time to find out who was responsible for all this evil.
The little demon was flopped out on the floor snoring loudly. When a man in white picked him up by the nape of his neck, his arms and legs flailed in the air as a series of wails erupted from his mouth, like a pitiful little cat.
The ferreting-out process produced no results. The children were exhausted from a very tiring day, and unbelievably hungry. And after being harassed by the little demon, they could barely hold their heads up and couldn’t think straight. And so the investigation ended amid the rumble of snores.
The men in white turned off the lights, locked the door, and left. In the darkness, the little demon smirked.
Early the next morning, before the sun was even up, the little demon got to his feet in the misty room, took the brass bells out from under his shirt, and rang them as hard as he could. The frantic pealing startled the children out of their sleep. After squatting on the floor to relieve themselves, they rolled over and went back to sleep under the glaring eyes of the little demon.
Once the sun was up, a red light flooded the room; by then the children were up and sitting around weeping. They were famished. Hardly a trace of the previous night’s excitement remained in their heads. All that energy, all that time spent trying to nurture a sense of power in them, totally wasted. The frustrated little demon wondered how he was going to make anything out of this bunch.
Just so I won’t screw things up as a storyteller, I’ll narrate my tale objectively, avoiding, as much as possible, any descriptions of what was going on inside the heads of the little demon and the children. Ill stick to their behavior and their speech, and leave it to you readers to interpret what sparked their behavior and lay behind their speech. This is not an easy story to tell, because the little demon keeps coming up with ways to smash it to pieces. He is not a good little boy, that’s for sure. (In truth, my story is just about wrapped up.)
Breakfast was sumptuous: egg-drop soup, steamed rolls made of fine flour, milk, bread, jam, salted bean sprouts, and sweet-and-sour radish slices.
The old man who delivered their breakfast took his job seriously, carefully filling each plate or bowl and handing it to one of the children. The little demon got a portion, which he received with his head lowered deferentially, so as not to upset the old fellow, who nonetheless watched him out of the corner of his eye.
After the old fellow left, the little demon looked up, eyes shining, and said:
‘Comrades, children, don’t eat a bite of this! They want to fatten us up before they eat us. We’ll go on a hunger strike. Children, the skinnier you are, the later they’ll get around to eating you, and maybe never.’
But the children paid no heed to his impassioned plea; maybe they had no idea what he was talking about. The sight and smell of all that food was all they could think about, so they dug in, stuffing their faces and raising quite a din. The little demon’s first impulse was to get rough with them, but he put that foolish thought out of his mind just in time to see a tall man walk into the room. With a furtive look at the man’s big feet, he picked up his glass of warm milk and took a long, loud drink.
Sensing the contemptuous look on the man’s face, he went back to his milk, with a vengeance, and attacked a steamed bun, making a point of getting his face as dirty as possible and gurgling loudly. In other words, he turned himself into a gluttonous fool.
‘Little pig!’ he heard the man say.
The man’s legs, both the thickness of stone pillars, ambulated toward the front, so the little demon looked up to stare at his back. He noticed that the man had a long, o
val head beneath a cap from which several curls of brown hair peeked out. When the man turned around, the little demon saw a ruddy face, with a long, greasy, beaklike nose that resembled a deformed water chestnut smeared with lard.
‘Children.’ the man said with a devious smile, ‘did you have a good breakfast?’
Most replied that they had, but some said no.
‘Dear children.’ the man said, ‘you mustn’t eat too much at one sitting, or your digestion will suffer. Now let’s go play a game, all right?’
No response from the children, who blinked in disbelief.
The man smacked himself on the head and admitted that he had foolishly forgotten that they were only children and hadn’t yet learned what games were all about. ‘Let’s go out and play the hawk and the chicks, what do you say?’
Shouting their approval, the children followed the man out into the yard. With apparent reluctance, the little demon tagged along.
As the game began, the hawk-nosed man chose the little demon to be the mother hen - maybe because his red clothes made him so conspicuous - with all the other children lined up behind him as the brood. The man was to be the hawk. Flapping his arms, he stared at them and bared his teeth as he began to screech.
Suddenly the hawk swooped down, scrunching up its beak until it nearly touched its thin upper lip, a menacing glare radiating from its eyes. This was indeed a savage, carnivorous raptor. Its dark shadow fell upon the children from above. Nervously, the little demon eyed its deadly twitching talons, as it settled onto the carpet of green grass, then rose into the air, unhurriedly toying with the children, waiting for the right moment. A hawk is a very patient hunter. And since the initiative always rests with the attacker, the defender must never let down its guard, not for a minute.
Suddenly the hawk swooped down like lightning, and the little demon reacted by rushing valiantly to the tail-end of his troops to butt and bite and scratch until the targeted child was wrenched free of the hawk’s grasp. The other children whooped and hollered, excited and frightened at the same time, as they fled from the hawk. The little demon nimbly threw himself between hunter and prey. The glare in his eyes conquered that of the stunned hawk.