“What have you done, what have you done?” she screamed.
“You look like a scarecrow. No mensch looks like that,” she almost cried with anger, “no mensch looks like that, not one – only scarecrows, black scarecrows.”
She hit him over the head, accidentally knocked over the milk jug fully, and started to cry.
“My blonde little son has become a black scarecrow. How terrible!” She cried uncontrollably.