by Bi Feiyu
“Little Fish, Little Fish! What’s happened to you?”
As he shook my hand with his left hand, Seventh Uncle smacked the back of my head with his right. In my head, the thumping sounded like a chipped brick or a splintered roof tile breaking the placid, mirror-like surface of a pond; the water splashed in all directions, raising ripples that tumbled upon one another. The picture shattered, and my mind went blank. Angrily, I shouted, “What are you doing? What are all you people doing?”
They gazed at me anxiously. Seventh Uncle said, “Are you dreaming, boy?”
“I’m not dreaming. I saw the Branch Secretary, the Brigade Accountant, the Head of the Women’s League, and the Militia Commander. They were all drinking, and they were dipping legs of lamb into garlic paste, under a gas lamp, around a square table.”
Seventh Aunt yawned grandly.
“Hallucinating,” she said.
“I saw them clear as day!”
Big Man Liu said, “When I went down to the river to fetch water this afternoon, I did see the Head of the Women’s League and two old ladies washing legs of lamb.”
“You’re hallucinating, too,” Seventh Aunt said.
“I really did!”
“Really, my ass!” Seventh Aunt said. “I think you’re crazed with hunger.”
The young stove repairman tried to make peace. “Stop arguing. I’ll go take a look. You know, investigate.”
“Are you crazy?” Seventh Aunt said. “Do you believe in hallucinations?”
The little stove repairman said, “You folks wait. I’ll run out there and run right back.”
“Be careful they don’t catch you and beat you up,” Seventh Uncle cautioned him. The little stove repairman was already out the door. A gust of cold wind blew in, nearly snuffing out the lamp.
The stove repairman came rushing back in, gasping for air. A gust of cold wind nearly snuffed out the lamp. He gazed at me with the look of a simpleton, as if he’d seen a ghost. Seventh Aunt asked with a sarcastic grin, “What did you see?”
The stove repairman turned and said, “Fantastic, fantastic, Little Fish is an immortal, he can see everything.”
The stove repairman said that everything was exactly as I had described it. The banquet had taken place at the Branch Secretary’s house. He’d climbed the low wall to see.
Seventh Aunt said, “I don’t believe it.”
The little stove repairman went outside to get a frozen sheep’s head, which he held up to show Seventh Aunt. One look stopped Seventh Aunt’s hiccups.
That night, we busied ourselves with cleaning the sheep’s head before tossing it into the pot. Our thoughts were on liquor as the sheep’s head stewed. Seventh Aunt was the one who came up with the idea: drink ethyl alcohol. Seventh Uncle, a veterinarian, had a bottle of alcohol he used as a disinfectant. Needless to say, we diluted it with water.
Thus began an arduous tempering process.
People who grow up on industrial alcohol will shy away from nonalcoholic drinks.
Sad to say, the little stove repairman and Seventh Uncle went blind.’
He raised his arm to look at his wristwatch. ‘Dear students,’ he said, ‘that’s the end of today’s lecture.’
