There was
something morbid in his cruel passion for young flesh something
perversely related to sex, perhaps. He was a young man with a
wide, sneering mouth
He would pinch me black and blue till my heart contracted with
pain. Yet I never uttered a murmur. I was too profoundly aware of
the fact that I was kept on sufferance to risk the slightest
demonstration. I had developed a singular faculty for bearing pain,
which I would parade before the other boys. Also, I had developed
a relish for flaunting my martyrdom, for being an object of pity
Oh, how I did hate this man, especially his sneering mouth! In my
helplessness I would seek comfort in dreams of becoming a great
man some day, rich and mighty, and avenging myself on him.
Behold! Shmerl the Pincher is running after me, cringingly
begging my pardon, and I, omnipotent and formidable, say to him:
"Do you remember how you pinched the life out of me for
nothing? Away with you, you cruel beast!"
Or I would vision myself dropping dead under one of his
onslaughts.
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