The H-Bomb and the Jesus Rock by John Manderino Page A

waiting for him. I’ll have the porch light on, to make sure he sees.”
    I looked at Lou.
    She shook her head, no.
    “We’ll come back later on,” I told the woman, and put the head back in the wagon.
    “Why don’t you do as I tell you?”
    “We’ll bring it back later,” I said.
    “You don’t understand. Father is very busy. He doesn’t have time for this sort of thing, not today. Don’t you read the newspaper? Don’t you watch television?”
    “You mean, about—”
    “Don’t you read the Bible? Revelation ?”
    “We’ll come back later.”
    “Chapter seventeen?”
    We walked away, me pulling the wagon, Lou alongside.
    “‘These shall make war with the Lamb!’” the woman hollered out. “‘But the Lamb shall overcome them!’”
    “Don’t look back,” I told Lou.
    “‘For He is Lord of lords and King of kings!’”
    “Just keep walking.”

Toby
    I knew they lived on the other side of the viaduct, around Parnell somewhere, but I didn’t know the address, so I stopped off at home to check the phone book.
    Mom was napping, worn out from being scared, I guess. I stood in her bedroom doorway looking at her there, on her back, in her muumuu, slippers off, holding a rosary on her stomach, practicing being dead.
    Poor thing.
    But you know? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a tiny part of her that kind of wished she really was dead. She’s been acting all scared and hysterical about these Russian missiles coming to get us, but I think there’s a little tiny part of her that wouldn’t mind. I mean, what would she be leaving? What’s she got down here?
    Cake and candy, TV, and me.
    And she’d finally be back with my father. Which is all she really wants. She’s always talking about it, how happy they’ll be, how “joyful.” So I don’t know why she doesn’t just paint a great big bull’s-eye on the roof:
    Right here, Mr. Khrushchev.
    I looked up “Cavaletto” in the phone book, for their address. Nothing. They probably didn’t have a phone, or a toilet, or silverware. I’d have to go looking around for their wagon, that’s all.
    I washed up and put some clean clothes on. Then I put together a couple of sandwiches to eat on the way: baloney, lettuce, relish, and lots and lots of mustard.
    I love mustard, don’t you?
    I’ve never been much of a ketchup fan. I think it’s a boring thing to put on your food. I’ll put it on my french fries, sure, but that’s about it. And mayonnaise. Don’t get me started. I hate that stuff. In potato salad, fine, go ahead. But people who put mayonnaise on a sandwich? On an ordinary sandwich? I don’t want anything to do with those people.
    I’ll bet my little gypsy friends put it on their toast in the morning. I’ll bet they spread it on their pan cakes.

Lou
    Our mom didn’t see us, she was out in the kitchen ironing. She does a lot of ironing, mostly for other people, for money. We knew she was ironing because she was singing. She always sings when she irons, I don’t know why, she hates ironing. But maybe that’s why she sings. I sing when I’m doing my homework, like I’m way far away from it, out there singing. She was singing Johnny Cash, but in a high shaky voice. It sounded funny that way:
    “‘I keep a close watch on this heart of mine...’”
    Anyway, that was good, her being out in the kitchen. We didn’t want her to see the Jesus rock. She wouldn’t make us put it back , but she would make that face of hers, with her mouth to one side.
    Even the rectory lady didn’t believe, you could tell. She was going to leave it on the porch, like a jack-o’-lantern.
    Daddy said he was going to bring a pumpkin home tonight and carve it. I hope he remembers.
    I’ll probably go this year as a hobo again. I don’t know about Ralph, if he’s even going. Last year nobody knew who he was supposed to be. His costume was just his pajamas and bathrobe, a rubber cigar in his mouth and a paper crown on his head. People kept saying,