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Twice
a
year
they
brought
the
big
flapping
rugs
oui
into
the
yard
and
laid
them
where
they
looked
out
of
place
and
uninhabited
,
on
the
lawn
.
Then
Grandma
and
Mother
came
from
the
house
with
what
looked
to
be
the
back
rungs
of
those
beautiful
looped
wire
chairs
downtown
in
the
soda
-
fountain
place
.
These
great
wire
wands
were
handed
around
so
they
stood
,
Douglas
,
Tom
,
Grandma
,
Great
-
grandma
,
and
Mother
poised
like
a
collection
of
witches
and
familiars
over
the
duty
pattens
of
old
Armenia
.
Then
at
a
signal
from
Great
-
grandma
,
a
blink
of
the
eyes
or
a
gumming
of
the
lips
,
the
flails
were
raised
,
the
harping
wires
banged
down
again
and
again
upon
the
rugs
.
"
Take
that
!
And
that
!
"
said
Great
-
grandma
.
"
Get
the
flies
,
boys
,
kill
the
cooties
!
"
"
Oh
,
you
!
"
said
Grandma
to
her
mother
.
They
all
laughed
.
The
dust
storm
puffed
up
about
them
.
Their
laughing
became
choked
.
Showers
of
lint
,
tides
of
sand
,
golden
flakes
of
pipe
tobacco
fluttered
,
shivered
on
the
exploded
and
re
-
exploded
air
.
Pausing
,
the
boys
saw
the
tread
of
their
shoes
and
the
older
people
’
s
shoes
pressed
a
billion
times
in
the
warp
and
woof
of
this
rug
,
now
to
be
smoothed
clean
as
the
tide
of
their
beating
swept
again
and
again
along
the
oriental
shore
.
"
There
’
s
where
your
husband
spilled
that
coffee
!
"
Grandma
gave
the
rug
a
blow
.
"
Here
’
s
where
you
dropped
the
cream
!
"
Great
-
grandma
whacked
up
a
great
twister
of
dust
.
"
Look
at
the
scuff
marks
.
Boys
,
boys
!
"
"
Double
-
Grandma
,
here
’
s
the
ink
from
your
pen
!
"
"
Pshaw
!
Mine
was
purple
ink
.