I know that, missus. If I had to do it, I wouldnt.
Mam says she has a pain in her back, that Ill have to carry the pigs
head. I hold it against my chest but its damp and when the newspaper
begins to fall away everyone can see the head. Mam says, Im ashamed
of me life that the world should know were having pigs head for
Christmas. Boys from Leamys National School see me and they point
and laugh.Aw,Gawd,look at Frankie McCourt anhis pigs snout.Is that
what the Yanks ate for Christmas dinner, Frankie?
One calls to another, Hey, Christy, do you know how to ate a pigs
head?
No, I dont, Paddy.
Grab him by the ears an chew the face offa him.
And Christy says, Hey, Paddy, do you know the only part of the pig
the McCourts dont ate?
No, I dont, Christy.
The only part they dont ate is the oink.
After a few streets the newspaper is gone altogether and everyone
can see the pigs head. His nose is flat against my chest and pointing up
at my chin and I feel sorry for him because hes dead and the world is
laughing at him. My sister and two brothers are dead, too, but if anyone
laughed at them Id hit them with a rock.
I wish Dad would come and help us because Mam has to stop every
few steps and lean against a wall. Shes holding her back and telling
us shell never be able to climb Barrack Hill. Even if Dad came he
wouldnt be much use because he never carries anything, parcels, bags,
packages. If you carry such things you lose your dignity.Thats what he
says. He carried the twins when they were tired and he carried the
Pope, but that was not the same as carrying ordinary things like a pigs
head. He tells Malachy and me that when you grow up you have to
wear a collar and tie and never let people see you carry things.
Hes upstairs sitting by the fire,smoking a cigarette,reading The Irish
Press, which he loves because its De Valeras paper and he thinks De
Valera is the greatest man in the world. He looks at me and the pigs
head and tells Mam its a disgraceful thing to let a boy carry an object
like that through the streets of Limerick. She takes off her coat and eases
herself into the bed and tells him that next Christmas he can go out and
find the dinner. Shes worn out and gasping for a cup of tea so would
he drop his grand airs, boil the water for the tea and fry some bread
before his two small sons starve to death.
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