有個老人坐在桌子旁等待他妻子準備晚餐，他聽到他妻子不知道打破什麼罐子，弄傷自己所發出的叫聲，他厭惡罐子碎裂的聲音，他妻子故意發出的那些哀嚎，令他更不愉快。

　　他開始打自己的臉，他的手指關節紅了起來。他多麼討厭發紅的手指，刺眼的顏色，比傷口更令人反感。

　　他聽到那些叉子、湯匙、杯子、盤子被丟在廚房地板時哭叫了起來。那些餐具像鬼哭神嚎一樣，讓他很難受。

　　他毆打自己，神智恍惚使他更加生氣，他暈眩，打自己的頭，去撞牆，他說「你想要瘋狂我就讓你瘋狂」，他跌坐在地板上，他開始捏自己的腳，他要給他的頭、他的腳一個教訓。

　　同時他聽到他妻子打碎剩下的餐具，那些餐具正在高聲哭號尖叫！

　　他看到牆上鏡子裡的自己，他說「你在笑我吧，去死吧！」他拿起椅子擊破了鏡子。椅子壞了，他對椅子說「你不想當椅子了是不是？你是給人坐的太舒服了是不是？」

　　他聽到他妻子拿斧頭敲打東西的聲音，他說我們究竟什麼時候可以吃飯，然後他竟然就吃起蠟燭了！

　　「當我準備好的時候你就可以吃了！」他妻子咆哮。

　　「我要扯光妳的頭髮！」他也咆哮。

　　「你過來，我要把你的眼睛挖出來！」　

　　「我會割掉妳的耳朵！」

　　「我給你一巴掌打醒你！」　　

　　「我把妳塞進去菜籃裡！」

　　「我把你撕成兩半！」

　　這個老男人最後開始吃自己的一隻手，那個老女人罵「他媽的愚蠢！你為什麼不先煮過再吃，你就像野獸一樣！」

　　這個老人吃掉湯匙，他妻子說「很好，我們現在又少了一根湯匙了。」

　　最後這個老人吃掉了他自己。

　　他妻子說「很好，你終於辦到了。」

原文：

An old man sitting at table was waiting for his wife to serve dinner. He heard her beating a pot that had burned her. He hated the sound of a pot when it was beaten, for it advertised its pain in such a way that made him wish to inflict more of the same. And he began to punch at his own face, and his knuckles were red. How he hated red knuckles, that blaring color, more self-important than the wound. 

He heard his wife drop the entire dinner on the kitchen floor with a curse. For as she was carrying it in it had burned her thumb. He heard the forks and spoons, the cups and platters all cry at once as they landed on the kitchen floor. How he hated a dinner that, once prepared, begins to burn one to death, and as if that weren’t enough, screeches and roars as it lands on the floor, where it belongs anyway.

He punched himself again and fell on the floor.

When he came awake again he was quite angry, and so he punched himself again and felt dizzy. Dizziness made him angry, and so he began to hit his head against the wall, saying, now get real dizzy if you want to get dizzy. He slumped to the floor.

Oh, the legs won’t work, eh? . . . He began to punch his legs. He had taught his head a lesson and now he would teach his legs a lesson.

Meanwhile he heard his wife smashing the remaining dinnerware and the dinnerware roaring and shrieking.

He saw himself in the mirror on the wall. Oh, mock me, will you. And so he smashed the mirror with a chair, which broke. Oh, don’t want to be a chair no more; too good to be sat on, eh? He began to beat the pieces of the chair.

He heard his wife beating the stove with an ax. He called, when’re we going to eat? as he stuffed a candle into his mouth.

When I’m good and ready, she screamed.

Want me to punch your bun? he screamed.

Come near me and I’ll kick an eye out of your head.

I’ll cut your ears off.

I’ll give you a slap right in the face.

I’ll break you in half.

The old man finally ate one of his hands. The old woman said, damn fool, whyn’t you cook it first? you go on like a beast—You know I have to subdue the kitchen every night, otherwise it’ll cook me and serve me to the mice on my best china. And you know what small eaters they are; next would come the flies, and how I hate flies in my kitchen.

The old man swallowed a spoon. Okay, said the old woman, now we’re short one spoon.

The old man, growing angry, swallowed himself.

Okay, said the woman, now you’ve done it.