The Opiate, Winter Vol. 8
So Jung Kommen Wir Nicht Mehr Zusammen Cooper Wilhelm
A
t the outset I had no reason to dislike Johannes in particular. Like most small children, he was boorish, and selfish, and frequently sticky or wet or both. He had the repugnance of an animal without the nobility of beasts, but in a manner that would have been entirely unremarkable for a child had it not been for the sweets. Every day at the kindergarten that Frau Grussholdt tended on the frontiers of the Black Forest, Johannes would appear before us laden with sweets, which he consumed in full view of the other viciously hungry and envious children. Even as a six-year-old, I knew this ostentatious display of wealth was no marvel. The father of Johannes owned vast estates from which he extracted rent and influence. But once Johannes had exhausted his apparent supply of bonbons for the day, he could be found moments later with yet more. How? Was Frau Grussholdt giving them to him? Had he worked out a pact with other students in which they would act as his sugar mules? Or were there, perhaps, small caches of chocolate bits hidden strategically throughout Frau Grussholdt’s humble cottage and the surrou-
40.
ding wald for Johannes to find? The mystery was unbearable. I found myself unable to concentrate on a child’s rightful pursuits of letters, numbers or memorizing the various grunts and whistles farm animals use to wail their lot or announce themselves. One afternoon, as I watched him pull a lollipop from his pocket and pop it between his insufferably puckered lips after making a trite proclamation about the relative cuteness of ducklings compared to other edible birds, I knew I could no longer tolerate the burden of Johannes’ happiness. I determined to use the full powers of my fastidiously logical mind to divine the source of his confectionary magnetism, and take his sweets for myself. As any six-year-old worth his apple gruel will tell you, asking for a piece of information outright is the easiest way to be denied the answers you seek forever. One must approach at an angle, like some sort of devious fish seeking to steal morsels from a distracted crab. One must stare and wait for one’s moment. And so whenever neither Johannes nor
