The light also illuminated Stanley’s hole. He glanced downward and had to force himself to suppress a scream. He was standing in a lizard nest. He felt the scream explode inside him.
He steadied himself, then reached down, took hold of Zero’s arm, and helped him slowly to his feet. Zero still held the suitcase. The lizards, which had been hiding under it, scurried quickly into the hole.
“Just remember,” Sam told the men before they left. “It’s very important you drink a bottle tonight. You got to get it into your bloodstream. The lizards don’t like onion blood.”
Stanley’s mother insists that there never was a curse. She even doubts whether Stanley’s great-great-grandfather really stole a pig. The reader might find it interesting, however, that Stanley’s father invented his cure for foot odor the day after the great-great-grandson of Elya Yelnats carried the great-great-great-grandson of Madame Zeroni up the mountain.
Her eyes seemed weary, as if she’d seen too many things in her life that she didn’t want to see. And when she smiled, her mouth seemed too big for her face. Very softly, she half sang, half hummed a song that her grandmother used to sing to her when she was a little girl.