Der Schneckentöter 🔪

Hello, I’m Marmeladenoma. Today I’m telling you a story
from my childhood and Janik is also here, of course. We had a huge garden. The life in the garden would’ve been nice
if there wasn’t the son of our neighbours who disliked me and badgered where he could. There were six gardens next to each other
behind a row home we lived in. Every garden door lead to the same path. Everybody could stay there
who lived in this row home. I saw him many times in his garden,
sitting on the ground. And was whistling all the time. I knew what he did and I felt very bad,
fear and pity were fighting each other, but pity always won. I felt
pity with all the animals he agonised. They were escargots. He poked in the shells
with a small piece of wood, hurt them and left them. The first time I saw this
I begged him not to do this. He laughed and said “That are our snails, in our garden. I can do everything with them.” And he hit me. He was three years
older than me and much stronger. I couldn’t help these poor animals in this way. It occurred every time but jumped on him
and hit him on his back if I saw his animal torture. He laughed, got rid of me
and beat me. I think it was all summer long. – Just a moment. Finally they moved away and
new persons moved in. The next day I collected the dead snails and buried them in my animal cemetery,
covered in flowers. I don’t know why I didn’t tell
my three older brothers. They could’ve ended it quickly. – Nowadays I don’t understand why I’ve done this
but I had a reason for it, as a child back then. There was a big tomb on this
animal cemetery for the bones of slaughtered rabbits
we ate every Sunday. But that’s a story for its own. When I think of the summers
of my early childhood I always think of these heavy
thunderstorms after a hot summer day. We sat intriguing at the window
and had a look at all of the elements. Lightning, thunder, heavy showers,
wind whipped against branches of trees. Little birds’ nests fell onto the ground and it was very warm as well. When rain stopped we ran
out in our swimsuits and barefoot and had a look at the damage. I collected all the birds which were still alive. I carried them home, they were wet and looked dead, dried the birds and laid them on
the ground of a giant birdcage. It were few which recovered, got on their little feet and started
to peck some grains and drink water. This was an indescribable sense of pleasure for me. The dead birds were buried ceremonially
at the animal cemetery, covered in flowers. Because of that a fierce fight
between my brother Erwin and me started, he was six years older than me. Well, actually he was my favourite brother but had some opinions which
were repulsive to me. “This is nature’s law.
The strong eat the weak. These birds fell from the sky
to be the food for my snakes.” His pets were ring snakes he kept them in a big
terrarium in the loft. But to his despair his snakes
ate live food, so he bred white mice. And that were my feelings for him:
Love and rage and tears. We all had a favourite pet. – He hasn’t got the birds, my father came in cases of doubt. We all had a favourite pet
and they were ours. Dogs, cats, birds, rabbits,
guinea pigs, Erwin’s snakes, a greenback which sat in a big fruit jar;
it had water, moss and a ladder and was fed with flies. It was a so-called “weather frog”
because we thought it will show us the weather. If it climbed up the ladder
the weather got nice. There were no flies in winter; it was fed
with mealworms and a tweezer instead. When I was older and my beloved
mother was dead, during the war, my favourite pet, my friend,
was a goose, my goose my father received as a gift so
we had a good roast again. I begged him, I cried and then
he gave it me and it could live. But that is another story I’ll tell next time. That’s it for today. Next time you’ll hear childhood stories again by your Marmeladenoma and her grandson Janik. Goodbye.

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