суббота, 27 октября 2007 г.
Omas old bread knife
The first part saga
The altersmüden iron springs of his Ohrensessels quietschten as Gregor had to fall. "If you have what could only smear," he grumbled. Then again spread the previous silence. Schlaff and sluggish Gregor hung in the cushions and stared out the window down. Long minutes. Below: the dark Ereignislosigkeit the street below his apartment. Street lanterns langweilten the regenfeuchten paving stones with their cold light cones, close to densely parked schlummerten small car parked at the kerbside. No hint, no sound.
Even he himself remained motionless, half of a Dämmertraum umfangen, undecided. None of his friends had time tonight, let alone desire, do something about it - although he once previously Feierabend them. Although he had not yet reached Jörg tries. Focusing on one or two of Guinness in "St. Patrick's "meet around the corner, that would be fine ne thing. Gregor loved the dark brew with his moorbrackigen consistency. His fingers huschten on the telephone keypad. Patiently waiting Gregor travels spaces. Then finally.
"Hello? Oh hi, Stephan! Is Jörg also there? ... Who is? ... When Janine? Janine, Janine ... Who is going to the executioner achja again ... .. oh ... . and that's er, I mean ... who are now really? ... Yes, manure, I just wanted to ask him if he ... well, it also does not matter ... nee, was nothing urgent ... . well, do love him nen greeting. "
The sparkling passion, Jörg they felt understood Gregor not. But how both had found each other on the outcome of an opening for contemporary art. Briefly rustled a smile in Mundwinken Gregor. Janine is not interested in art. But she was happy to exhibition openings, because it's free to drink champagne was her favorite drink, which she loved so not least because of drinking "so funny tingling in the nose." This time, they sneaked into the gallery and immediately in the direction of the lean-oriented glasses, in which they are amply served, while the art gallery owner interested in the exhibits brought closer. Fluxus. Sound like luxury, was Janine. And Luxury was exactly her thing.
What Janine was not good, was level. And so they had within a short time nearly a half bottles of sparkling wine in her sparkling glass and poured behind her bandage was with their high-Stöckelschuhen on which they are moving very awkward, as it was sturzbetrunken, stumbled and in the cold buffet offerings. Directly between grits and red Matjesplatte. It had a markerschütterndes Geschepper given, and until they are held, Janine was on the floor, verkeilt wallpaper in the table, on the buffet was draped.
From her flowing, dauergewellten red curls troff grits; In their brief and deeply cut dress klebten evenly Remoulade, shrimp and Ziergemüse. For her décolleté towered the tail of a mackerel. From their own adversity touched by alcohol and woozy, Janine began to laugh hysterically. Rather they have shrieked.
The hochwohlgeborenen visitors to the opening solidified horrified, and threw her reproachfully verständnislose views, rümpften pikiert their noses, turned from happening and tuschelten with excited faces. The only amused by the whole thing was Jörg. Actually on the way to the post, he was only coincidental to the gallery vorbeigeschlurft. Spontaneously, he had the view through the window of his plans umgeworfen, and decided, as Kunstinteressierter but first a look at the newly opened exhibit to throw.
He had a small packet in the arm. That put an old bread knife, which he was raised by his grandmother had inherited. It had a silver handle and concave chases eingravierte fine illustrations of old English roses. Rare, valuable antiquated. Jörg had from the beginning is not liked. It was only years around located in his apartment. Unused. And so he had summarily auctioned on the Internet.
Jörg bent over the still helpless herabgefallenen between the bowls and plates in the trestle trapped, clangorous Janine laughing, and helped her get back on its feet. Suddenly he pulled his kurzentschlossen packet again. He rejected the idea spontaneously, the packet with a knife right now to bring to the post, but it was also started for a couple of shrimp Janines dress to scrape and then pushed her with the knife tip the delicate seafood in the half, verdutzten mouth . "Let us savor the delights on your dress and then each other ways," he had whispered into the ear. His words verhallten not unheard, he took her by the hand and both left under the indignant glances of the other visitors, Janine still uncertain step, the gallery. "I am a Mackerel!" Had they Hinausstolpern hinterhergegrölt the room. Remained understood. They tottered, they giggled, they metal in his arms.