and her big mouth.â
CHAPTER 14
Inside one of the apartments of the Yellingsâ house sit Minnie and Sister. It is decorated in the psychedelic style of the sixties: attractively decorated pillows for seats, oddly shaped chairs and an old table picked up from a flea market. There are posters on the wall. One reads, âVisit Bulgaria,â another, âFree Anything,â under which is drawn the picture of a rattlesnake preparing to strike. Minnie, however skinny, has matured into a good-looking woman: A little mama; worldly, sophisticated and often impatient with her ignorant followers who believe anything she tells them. Sister is a âwee plump,â modest legs, butt and breasts. She is solid and in the old days would have been called a red hot. Sister is wrapped up so in long skirts, jewelry and a white turban that much of her original self is hidden. Minnie, this time out, is in denims, sandals, and wears an unassuming sweater. She doesnât wear just one thing. Her fashions change as much as her mind. Sister doesnât belong to Minnieâs cult, though Minnie has been working on her over the years.
âI saw our brother this morning, driving that old Oldsmobile of his down Shattuck. He didnât even honk his horn.â
âHeâs probably mad at you because you and them Moochers tried to close down his Solid Gumbo Works.â
âWell, what were we suppose to do? Heâs so aloof, so jive. And that LaBas. Where did they get him? From the east, huh. Talking about âour profits are intangible and so we donât have to keep any books,â and then he had the nerve to point to his forehead, âThe books are in here.ââ
âHe must know something, though. Your Moochers couldnât get past his guard, even when they tried.â
âWeâll get him sooner or later. Nothing can stop my Moochers. Next time the sacrifices will be more terrible, bloodier.â
âWhy is there always the need for blood, Minnie? Why do you always see âmany casualtiesâ as being victorious?â
âWe Moochers understand nothing but blood. Blood is truth. Blood is life. Drink blood, drink it. Blood. Blood.â (With this, a distant gaze)
âI ⦠I ⦠understand, I think, Minnie, but itâs still â¦â
âO Sister, youâre so dense. You know, I was always the one in the family who was good for theory. Our father was the poet. You and Wolf were the ones who didnât fit.â
âMinnie, letâs not go through that again. I sympathize with your aims as far as I can understand them, but why are you so hard on Papa LaBas and Wolf? People say that he prevented the Business from going under with Dad.â (Minnie nervously mashes out her cigarette in an ashtray and swings around.)
âNow look here, Sister, donât you dare say such things even if you mean them. LaBas and our kïnd will be locked in interminable struggle against the fascist insect! Itâs inevitable.â
âSee? There you go.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âMinnie talk (bites into a fruit). It sounds the same whoever says it. Who says everything has to be that way?â
âMy slogans.â
âYour what?â
âMy slogans (distantly). They tell me. My slogans know everything. With my slogans I can change the look of the future any time I wish.â
âAw, Minnie, thatâs sick. How can you change something thatâs only about to be?â
âWe have our tested ways. Tried and true; now with my slogans weâre able to match wits with the best of them. All this, due to our slogans. My slogans be praised.â
(Sweet lovable Nanny enters the room.)
âI jus hears you chirren carrin on, so I knows I jus had to bring yawl some good ol cream of wheat. Piping hot. Now dig in, girls.â She rests the service on the table.
âO Nanny, how sweet of you.â (Minnie goes over; kneels
Alaska Angelini, A. A. Dark