Turning the lives of characters into the moments they'll never forget, not because of the moments themselves, but for what happens before and after.
So Mrs. Feldman is the one to blame for the misanthropic mob that now overwhelms the street at 8:00 on Thanksgiving Thursday. All the uninvited souls, all the insatiable appetites, the necromancers and the cross-dressers in their robes and slippers, impatiently puffing away with crooked arms and elbows at the insolence of having to admit to the world this very sorry state of affairs, hairnets and curlers and hastily smeared fire engine red lipstick and the chest hair curiously curling out the collars of the t-shirts of old, hairy, gluttonous men. This conglomeration of living souls scattering like insects from the withered roots of civilization’s efforts; this monument to misuse, all scraps of soft paper held together by a fistful of faith and Elmer’s Glue.
And Jacob is their leader.