Everything Is Illuminated by Jonathan Safran Foer

do not eat any sausage?” “No sausage.” “No sausage,” I told Grandfather. He closed his eyes and tried to put his arms around his stomach, but there was not room because of the wheel. It appeared like he was becoming sick because the hero would not eat sausage. “Well, let him deduce what he is going to eat. We will go to the most proximal restaurant.” “You are a schmuck,” I informed the hero. “You’re not using the word correctly,” he said. “Yes I am,” I said.
    “What do you mean he does not eat meat?” the waitress asked, and Grandfather put his head in his hands. “What is wrong with him?” she asked. “Which? The one who does not eat meat, the one with his head in his hands, or the bitch who is masticating her tail?” “The one who does not eat meat.” “It is only the way that he is.” The hero asked what we were talking about. “They do not have anything without meat,” I informed him. “He does not eat any meat at all?” she inquired me again.
    “It is merely the way he is,” I told her. “Sausage?” “No sausage,” Grandfather answered to the waitress, rotating his head from here to there.
    “Maybe you could eat some meat,” I suggested to the hero, “because they do not have anything that is not meat.” “Don’t they have potatoes or something?” he asked. “Do you have potatoes?” I asked the waitress.
    “Or something?” “You only receive a potato with the meat,” she said.
    I told the hero. “Couldn’t I just get a plate of potatoes?” “What?”
    “Couldn’t I get two or three potatoes, without meat?” I asked the waitress, and she said she would go to the chef and inquire him. “Ask him if he eats liver,” Grandfather said.
    The waitress returned and said, “Here is what I have to say. We can make concessions to give him two potatoes, but they are served with a piece of meat on the plate. The chef says that this cannot be negotiated.
    He will have to eat it.” “Two potatoes is fine?” I asked the hero. “Oh, that would be great.” Grandfather and I both ordered the pork steak, and ordered one for Sammy Davis, Junior, Junior as well, who was becoming sociable with the hero’s leg.
    When the food arrived, the hero asked for me to remove the meat off of his plate. “I’d prefer not to touch it,” he said. This was on my nerves to the maximum. If you want to know why, it is because I perceived that the hero perceived he was too good for our food. I took the meat off his plate, because I knew that is what Father would have desired me to do, and I did not utter a thing. “Tell him we will commence very early in the morning tomorrow,” Grandfather said. “Early?” “So we can have as much of the day for searching as possible. It will be rigid at night.” “We will commence very early in the morning tomorrow,” I said to the hero. “That’s good,” he said, kicking his leg. I was very flabbergasted that Grandfather would desire to go forth early in the morning.
    He hated to not repose tardy. He hated to not repose ever. He also hated Lutsk, and the car, and the hero, and, of late, me. Leaving early in the morning would provide him with more of the day aroused with all of us.
    “Let me inspect at his maps,” he said. I asked the hero for the maps. As he was reaching into his fanny pack, he again kicked his leg, which made Sammy Davis, Junior, Junior become sociable with the table, and also made the plates move. One of the hero’s potatoes descended to the floor.
    When it hit the floor it made a sound. PLOMP. It rolled over, and then was inert. Grandfather and I examined each other. I did not know what to do. “A terrible thing has occurred,” Grandfather said. The hero continued to view the potato on the floor. It was a dirty floor. It was one of his two potatoes. “This is awful,” Grandfather said silently, and moved his plate to the side. “Awful.” He was correct.
    The waitress returned to our table with the colas we