Seven Days Spain (5) "This is a friend of mine," I explain. "Yes, and if you want to ride a cock tonight, take a British bitch," Karl-Heinz warns him. Bitch, yes I understand. I learned this word from Lady Gaga and the older Germans like Dieter learned it from Frank Zappa. Bitch, yes, I understand that, but not the complete inherent sense. "Piss off, or Iīm gonna kick your ass!" Jack threatens and starts to apply lotion on me. "Hand offs that girl, or Iīm going to rub your tattoo away," threatens Karl-Heinz and flips him the bird. Now we got the ball going. Jack is trying hard to grab the object of this obscene gesture, but he doesnīt manage. After this totally failed attack, the Englishman gets up again and does swing his balled fist, towards Karl-Heinz, but he manages to avoid the hit. Attack was always the best way of defense, clearly known to Karl-Heinz, and he is kicking Jack more than violent in his private parts, man, if there the hydraulics didnīt get damaged and causes some lifelong sexual dysfunction. Jack drops in the sand. The friend of the fat ugly whale next seems to have noticed nothing; he is comfortably lying around plain just as before. Iīm packing fast my bundle of things and talk sweet with Karl-Heinz, to leave the beach as fast as can direction Hotel Marsal. But Karl-Heinz is only able to hobble. "Damn fuck, my foot is killing me," he caws and his face is distorted with pain. "Hey, man, itīs going to be ok. They should call you a ambulance in the hotel." I try to soothe him out. "This damn friggin wanker of a nut job, if he shall come across me again, man, Iīm gonna get it out on that one!" Karl-Heinz is having some more than mad rage fits. Wrath back - wrath forth. My father would probably say, hey cīmon, forget about it, this ever vengefulness and good mar god will take care of it and straighten it out. People being able to indulge in any kind of self-control, are strong personalities, because self-composure is controlled power. May 6, 2009 - 1:05 p.m. "Dieter darling, then the ambulance came and one brought him to the clinic. I donīt know any more." Iīve told the story and Dieter means: "But Karl-Heinz made a mistake. He should have rather had his teeth knocked out, that way he makes it to any dentistīs." This saying makes me a smile and I change the topic. "Great, that you could handle all things so uncomplicated with Mrs. Sackmann, that we can just stay here in the hotel. Iīm happy." "Iīm happy about that myself, that all worked out that easily and well." Kitty is lumbering into the restaurant. Why do such chubby women like Kitty always have to wear leggings that they rather shouldnīt wear? That has nothing to do with any fashionable despair, but it is for me a kind of visual death penalty, the end of any erotic. My friend joins us and is warbling the refrain of the newest hit of Kelly Clarkson. I report to her the Karl-Heinz matters. "Iīm so sorry to hear that," says Kitty full of compassion. Shortly after two p.m. Kittyīs date shows up, the guy from Berlin. One can already feel, how Kitty is dangling, to be alone with the guy. Both of them fuck off fast. "Iīm going to bet that Kitty has something going on tonight. She is such hot ..." "Hey youīre crazy!" I go at Dieter, "Kitty is a nice girl. She isnīt a wild girl." "How many percent are you sure? Cīmon. Iīm going to ask this Berliner tomorrow, whether he scored with her, I say yes. Whatīs your bet? And how much?" Such an extraordinary bet, weīve never had one like that. "35 euro!" "Agreed!" May 6, 2009 - 7:10 p.m. Karl-Heinz lives! Heīs back and we are eating together. Karl-Heinz, Dieter, Kitty and my humble self. Meanwhile Kitty met Karl-Heinz in person. She is all of dither, because there is her second date with the one from Berlin around eight p.m. Karl-Heinz is happy, that his foot is no longer hurting that badly. He was really lucky again, nothing was broken, diagnosed the Balearic x-ray expert. Communication was easily possible, as this doctor passed his studies in Germany; the disadvantage was only, that he had to wait for some half semester for him, according to Karl-Heinz. Even an insurance company pays faster. They just had his little foot creamed with ointment in hospital and after that, well and thickly bandaged. Karl-Heinz is already again disposed and starts joking. "On the beach I saw a girl with a tattoo like an antlers above the backside. Hey peeps, if you want to know the taste of blowjob done by an elk, youīve to take this chick in doggy-style." Shortly after eight, Dieter and I are on the way. We leave the two alone. Kittyīs guy hasnīt yet shown up and thus my friend is a little worried. But to be worried means, to fear that expectations wonīt be fulfilled. My inner shrink knows that well. Holding hands, I schemer with Dieter down to the haven. The temperature is still acceptable and from the ocean, a slight and tender breeze is blowing. We enjoy this wonderful evening, take some look at the waters and stroll through the old parts of town. We find some bench and spread out there. Only a little tiny cloud is to be seen in the sky and I plantain, itīs the veil of a miraculous little fairy. Around ten weīre on the way back to our hotel. May 6, 2009 - 10:15 p.m. Without any little detour to the bar, we take the elevator to our rooms. Just when Dieter was standing under the shower, a knock at the door. I open and a slightly crocked Karl-Heinz has some request. "Hey you, just a question ... Have you ... Have you got a condom? Or two? Or maybe as well some three or four?" Iīm a little bit perplexing for some moment. "Oh... no..." Iīm answering very gentle. "We canīt help you out with any." "Damn fuck!" Karl-Heinz is disappointed, but he wishes me a good night, before he vanishes hoobling into his room. Hopefully he wonīt get the fixed idea with the plastic wrap. Shamelessly naked like Adam before the fall of mankind, Dieter returns from the bathroom. I shortly take a glance onto his very interesting body part which I canīt exhibit. "With whom did you speak right now, magic mouse?" It seems he has picked something up. "It was only Karl-Heinz" "Karl-Heinz? What did he want?" I think about whether I would tell him the true reason, but I skip that part for the time being. "Nothing." "What nothing? But its knocking late night at our door and the one wanted - nothing?" "Er, well , he wanted a condom." "A condom? You mean Karl-Heinz, this desperate jerk, wanted a condom, a preservative? Hey, whatīs the hell the matter? Did he pick up a bitch?" "How could I know? I didnīt notice anyone." "Just a moment, I think, maybe in my travel bag could be a pack." Again Iīm perplexed. "Since when do you have condoms? Youīve never told me about that!" Dieter isnīt giving any answer, and just goes quietly through his luggage. "Voilā, Iīve got it, the pack. One is still left over." "Why is there only one left? Whereīs all the rest gone? You owe me some explanation!" That I demand very loudly and watch him being very serious. "Hey, stop it! Yes, relax, please. I bought them last year during my summer holidays, when we werenīt even been together." Okay, I got to accept that. Well, maybe he got laid some blond Scandinavian backpacker on the beach during his last holidays. Okay, enough already. The plantain of a woman is the best fertilizer for her jealousy. Still, he seems to be reasonable enough and is taking care of all protected intercourse, uses condoms. It wonīt have too much to do with any real love, I think, additionally plain sex without any real love would be something like raw violence. I wouldnīt even have any of that with any one-night-stand. But a more than wild acquaintance of mine will. She is only talking about some hot and fabulous affair. For me, they are nothing but beasts, they treat men like trophies, much fun and entertainment in bed this never-get-enoughīs want to have, thus they never marry. "Cīmon, gimme, I hand it over to him. You can already jump into your ill bed for good." Dieter throws the package in my direction, and I throw a short glance onto it. THREE LUBRICATED CONDOMS. Wait a sec, didnīt he confess on his last birthday, he would have had, in the year 2000, the year I had my first sex, his last one? I donīt know, what you did last summer, but Iīd love to know, my best pal. I step out and knock at the door next door. "Hey Karl-Heinz. Man, open, pleas? Itīs just me." The door opens. "Look, what I ..." A happy Kitty steers at me with her eyes wide open and tears the package out of my hand. Without exchanging one word, she is closing the door fast and I myself donīt get my door locked. Back in my room, I get immediately asked by the Dieter, still lying in his bed, how Karl-Heinz would have reacted. "Er ... yes," I stutter. "Karl-Heinz ... Karl-Heinz He was of course more than happy." I lie and shut the lights off fast to make sure he canīt see how I get red in my face. Twenty minutes later, we try to sleep, the groaning begins. "Hey man, listen, Karl-Heinz really found a bird." "So what?" Iīm snarling, and turn my back towards my friend. Iīm not happy about Kitty getting into bed with Karl-Heinz that fast. For me, she was a hopeless romantic, and was talking about the deepest love and that takes time, and has to develop. But she is acting like a little slut. Sex is the beginning of the end of any romantic, any marriage the end of the sexual life. Kittyīs moaning gets louder and louder, it will even entertain the night porter on the ground floor. "Galactic, itīs all happening there," giggles Dieter and is more than curious. "With what kind of a bitch does he do it?" "No idea, I didnīt see anything." Oh God, unmistakable Kitty has a ball and I can defiantly not hold up that. She is sure enough not only a good prompter, but has all the qualities to be some synchronizer, best for all the new films about Josephine Mutzenbacher. Now ok, nevertheless the last Iīd have expected that she has sex with some guy, without even knowing his full name. I thought that to be as impossible, alike the times during the cold war any six point zero from some Soviet scoring judge for some US-American figure skater. Lust back, lust forth. My father pointed out already today, that sexuality would be more than a genuine component of creation, and otherwise men wouldnīt even have the idea to reproduce. But that sex outside any marriage would be a sin. I believe him, but I donīt follow. No sex before any marriage, who can handle that? And plain trying convulsively to abolish the natural sex drive, doesnīt make any sense either, or? My father always said, only someone can have that, which has a deep connection with his creator. This is the one who gives him the power to avoid any sexual appetite. When the relationship to someone like God is only that superficial as to maybe one of hundreds of facebook friends that one has lately as some kind of average, then this wonīt work out either. Indian gurus do know about Ojas, a spiritual power, the fruit of virtue. The more a man has of this power internalized, the healthier he will be. Such gurus are full of Godīs spirit and become more and more like him. God is a spiritual being and created man according to his elegy. The interest in any things like richness, fame or satisfaction of his lust vanishes for such gurus more and more. My father always said, that this isnīt to be understood for any from some dark worldly spirit influenced inhabitant of the earth. But the one who has no intense relationship with his creator, doesnīt have to be at all surprised, when God leaves him unexpectedly. And when he allows one to suddenly be in need. My father does claim himself to be at the same time a saint and a sinner. A contradiction in terms, but a plain clear-cut awareness. No man in this world is without sin, because everyone has his very own tricks, thatīs what I do know for sure. One lies, cheats, deludes, manipulates, has all kinds of subterfuge. A subterfuge is nothing but a lie. Dieter did once tell me about his very heavy traffic accident, where he total his first car. For this BMW he paid 3000 Deutsch Mark back yonder. He was 18 years old and his driving license he only had for two weeks. In some funky mood, that was deeply characterized by all being wild and an overestimation of his capabilities, and was caused by some joint, he took some curve too fast. He was lying six weeks in hospital. Dieter meant that when youīre seriously injured in some hospital, then you just go for one thing, and thatīs to feel well again. The loss of the car wonīt be of any importance alike the results from the last soccer game do lose all their importance additionally, they wonīt interested you any shit at all. What does really interest you, will be, that you jumped off deathīs shovel and that you get well again. God bless, the two donīt feel utterly sportively challenged and they donīt work their way through the Kama Sutra, the beggarīs acrobatic stops finally and the condoms are just smack used up. I just dive into deep sleep. Though I shortly awake in the middle of the nights, when the homecoming guests are that loud in the corridor, so that all really get it, especially the ones, already in deep sleep. May 7, 2009 - 8:00 a.m. Altogether Dieter and I did sleep well last night. To drive out the last bit of the tiredness, we preferred to hop down the stairs down to the ground floor instead of taking the evelator. We donīt go towards the breakfast buffet, instead we left the hotel, because my darling has suggested some little spontaneous walk to the beach. I join in, as Iīm not totally hungry yet, itīs still way too early for any of that. Though Dieter didnīt take a sip of coffee yet, heīs already in a good mood. A real nice holiday really does create nothing but miracles. No one is at the beach. We deeply take the calm and loneliness in. Itīs wonderful, plain fantastic. This place could be a part of the Garden of Eden. Sadly, this little location here is no paradise any longer, since that brutal assholes of an Englishman. Again, Dieter offers some kind of deal, that I can easily accept. We simply go to the complex of the Hotel Marsal. We discover a side entrance. Okay, the admittance is only allowed for guests. But this is being ignored. First we pass the big pool, then up the stairs, approaching the booking hall with the main entrance. In front of the hotel a little French car stops. "Look," says Dieter, "thatīs the car of our tour guide." "Sure enough, you do know all about her," I grumble. My mood is changing drastically into the most positive moods, when the guy from Berlin jumps out of the yellow car, throwing lots of little kisses at the chauffeur as his good-bye. Better said, Chauffeuse, because behind the steering wheel there is our blonde nymphomaniac Mrs. Sackmann - no doubt about that. "Man, you can be sure, that there was more than something going on between those two in the last night," the clear-cut analysis of Dieter. "You can see how much she is caring about the well-being of her vacationers." "Yes, but apparently only about the well-being of the male ones," I correct my honey pie. "Yesterday this guy from Berlin had another appointment, a better one than with Kitty; Iīm rather sure about that. I think, your best friend wasnīt amused." As if! If he would know, what was going on there ... In the foreign hotel, we take a look around and find out, that the Mrs. Sackmann was here yesterday around 11:30 a.m. and that yesterday was Wednesday. "Well, I think, she met this Berliner during her consultation-hour and she obviously immediately annexed him." I assume. "Well, then our little Kitty will have probably spent the night alone, and Iīd have sworn, that she will be fishing this guy and just gets him convinced in some minutes. Thus you won the bet, my magic mouse." "Which bet?" I murmur and pretend, as if I would have forgotten. "Our 35 euro bet. Well, with your reputable Kitty - nothing went on this night. Thus youīre completely right." "Right ...," the only thing I get out at all and feel some very fat frog in my throat. I love cats. Kitty loves cats. I donīt think well about any one-night-stands, and Kitty doesnīt think well about any either. Did she now constantly lie to me? Women have their secrets, but they will be all exposed one day, my father used to say. On the internet, more and more is being published, who is not familiar with Wikileaks? That I accidentally dropped my cell phone into the toilet, no one knows that yet. This is still more than embarrassing and I rather keep it for myself. I always thought that Kitty was a reputable girl. Ok, well, even reputable girls want to have their fun from time to time. With the boys. Well, Iīm nothing but some reputable girl myself. Was that been now just a plain accident for my friend, or did love strike Kitty like some lightning? Shall I accept the money won from Dieter or shall I not? Kitty wonīt surely confess this night with Karl-Heinz to Dieter, but Karl-Heinz will surely shoot the bull about it with his buddies, and then everyone knows. At the latest, tonight at the bar. And if there will be more happening between the both, when the heart will get involved, then it will be just a question of time, when all will be public. At the latest at the bar this evening, when they will be whispering sweet nothings. "Here, the 35 euro." Dam shit, what the hell am I doing? How the hell do I get out there? "Eeeeeeer ... Yes ... Yes ... Yes ... Do you know something my darl? Weīll just forget this stupid bet." "What? Plain forget?" "Yap. Plain forget. We plain forget the bet and keep the notes. Just plain take them back again, ok? But you have to answer one question, ok?" Dieter is fetching the dough. "Okay, go ahead, Iīm curious." "Ok my darling. What happened with the two lacking condoms? Iīd really love to know." Dieter starts to laugh. "No really, of all things ... Oh man ... Alright, alright. You really want to know? I mean sooner or later Iīd tell you this anyway. I I bonked Kitty. " "What??? You bonked Kitty???" "Sure!" "And when was that again???" "Hey, we agreed about only one question, didnīt we?" "Cīmon now, tell me!!!" I rudely address him and threaten him with my right fist. "Okay, okay, relax. Iīm going to tellya. That was in the middle of the night, when she drove me from the Disco to the hotel, when I had my foot injured, you remember? Last year in Osnabrück." Kitty plays the wild slut of some nurse and seems to have a weakness for guys with some foot injuries. Now the bet is completely clear to me. Dieter did knew it more than well, that youīd get Kitty easily in bed, when one plain wants it hard enough. "Wait a sec, these condoms werenīt planned for Kitty, and they were planned for me. You wanted to have sex with me the first time we met and inspite of that, you did it with my best friend." Well, things never turn out the way you expect. "Sorry, but it was Kitty who abused the situation. And to test, that Iīm no fag, we had wild and animalistic sex." Okay, I remain closed. During a rehearsal I once mentioned that the writer, for whom I made the illustrations, must be gay, because he hasnīt hit on me yet. May 7, 2009 - 9:15 a.m. After our little hassle, Dieter and I share a table and are having our breakfast. A bouncy Kitty enters the dinning room and a Karl-Heinz in good spirits hobbles along, too. I greet them with some "Hey, you two beauties - did you sleep well? Pretty hot, tonight, wasnīt it Kitty?" The two shortly throw some sparkling smiles at me and head to plunder the buffet, while Dieter doesnīt even understand any of my allusions and keeps on wondering about any nightly hotness. "But, it wasnīt that hot tonight???"
Copyright © 2011 Elvira Frankenheim |