Three days to go until the weekend, and she was looking forward to it. A new chance for Pia Plappermaul to get in touch with the opposite sex. Is there anything more beautiful for a woman than a delicious man? Hopefully these days off will not be as disappointing as last time, when she went out alone and tried something new for a change. What exactly happened?

The pub had only recently opened and was called Robbers’ Den. The owner had gone to a lot of trouble to make the saloon very cozy. Pia found a quiet spot at a small round table right next to an old Wurlitzer jukebox, which was only there for decoration. The music played here was mainly from the time when her mother was growing up. When Pia was a teenager herself, she really enjoyed listening to the music of the time on her mother’s records. The record player they had at the time was a Philips and stood in a cupboard in the living room.

At the bar, she spotted Lukas. He attended the same school, but they were not in the same class. Lukas quickly realized that a certain amount of risk was necessary to make a profit. During his time at school, he stole car radios and made a thriving business out of them. Luckily for him, he was never caught. An entry in his criminal record would have stood in the way of his future career. His course took him to a bank, where he learned how to get hold of people’s money without fear of ending up behind bars. This scoundrel really lived up to the name of this pub.

Pia was getting bored. Between the second cocktail and her third big yawn, Lukas stopped by on his way to the loo.

  »Hi chubs, you’re here and not at the gym?«

  »You’re here and not behind barred windows?« she countered, surprised by her successful retort.

  »Come and see us on Tuesday; there are some nice surprises waiting for our customers—it’s World Savings Day.«

  And he buggered off and left her alone from then on. Flirting is fine, Pia thought; that’s why she was here, but please, not with him. No, not with a varmint.

Fifteen minutes later, a small gentleman with thinning hair, who could have been her father, approached her. He wanted to know if he could keep her company at the table for a while. He did not offer any great visual stimuli for wild dreams. But the man seemed sober. You could almost tell that the other male guests had already consumed a certain amount of alcohol. Pia agreed before her burgeoning boredom forced her home.

The midget bought Pia a fresh drink and torpedoed her incessantly with the adventures of his life as a sales representative, and Pia did not get a word in edgewise. He raved about the French, who had a penchant for good food, good wine, and love. Pia had already had her experiences with the French. In the land of gourmets, love means sex. The stories Pia heard from the man gradually became more and more frivolous. It was a nice try to turn her on, but it did not work on her. The old man had not invented the art of flirting; he’d probably learned this trick from dodgy clubs. What’s more, the guy kept staring bluntly into her cleavage and smoking one cigarette after another. How awful these smelly weeds are! Of all people, these French cancer sticks!

Pia couldn’t stand smoking, and the atmosphere in the pub became increasingly unpleasant for her. The delegation of bald guys in bomber jackets from a neighboring dive bar, who surprisingly turned up and made it unmistakably clear how obsessed they all were with national pride, broke the camel’s back. Pia left the pub in a hurry and was disappointed. So that’s what happened last time.

The moon hid its face behind thick clouds. The diffuse light from the lanterns and gray wafts of mist bathed the square in the historic old town in a mysterious melancholy. Not a soul to be seen, Pia sat alone on a bench. There were still three days until the weekend. Then she wanted to meet up with her friend Lisa, a freaked-out blonde, at Café Papillon and do something together.

It was slightly chilly on this Tuesday night, and she felt goose bumps. Pia felt lonely. She snacked on sweets to bring her some joy. A calorie-laden sin that she couldn’t give up and that she cultivated after her break-up with Hans, which led to her gaining another five kilos in weight. Her evening walks were far too short to burn off the calories she had consumed.

Her breakup with Hans. It all started with that terrible summer vacation. Her boyfriend really wanted to go to France by car, but she would have liked to go to the Italian island of Sicily by plane. »Terrible, those French people!« she grumbled. »They don’t like us Germans, can’t be faithful, and love to nibble on the lower extremities of toads. Is that where you want to go, Hansi?« That’s right, her boyfriend Hans really wanted to go there with his roly-poly. Pia had a talkative nature but did not like long discussions. Thus, she gave in, and they set off in mid-June, the beginning of the end of their relationship.

On the outward journey, they first made a stopover in Paris. The capital of France is generally known as the city of love—but not at all! It was a city of thieves! There are about as many pickpockets in the hustle and bustle of the Paris metro as there are salmonella bacteria in a bad tiramisu. Her watch would almost have been lost on the very first evening if she hadn’t been careful. That did not even happen to her in Italy. Instead, in Italy, there were plenty of Casanovas hanging around in a piazza in the evening who couldn’t wait to steal her innocence.

Her job was dull, her apartment was no luxury, and there was no new boyfriend in sight. But someone had to come along as soon as possible. An honest, passionate, and courageous guy who loved her to bits. The silence was disturbed by the chiming of the church clock; it was eleven. The witching hour was approaching. Why was she repeatedly rejected by nice men? Only old dwarves, weaklings, or spirited, adventurous Italian ragazzi seemed to be interested in her. Pia was only 25 yet and had a pretty face, without question. Was it because of her plump figure? Or her chatty mouth?

A small plate indicated that the bench was sponsored by Municipal Savings Bank. She remembered the World Savings Day that Lukas had mentioned. Pia looked over to the fountain. A bronze goose statue has stood on the town square near the fountain since 1795. Nobody knows exactly who put the figure there. The town square is also known as the geese market because of the poulterers in times past. There were various legends about this place back in the Middle Ages. Many of these stories have probably been embellished over the course of time to such an extent that today we have to ask ourselves whether there is even a shred of truth to be found in them. One story tells that a man tried to catch an escaped goose on this square, but he failed. Hundreds of years ago, this was a talking point and amused the villagers. Later, the higgler grew horns and disappeared without a trace.

Throwing coins into a fountain is supposed to make wishes come true, thought Pia, wistfully remembering beautiful days in Rome. In the summer of 2006, she spent two weeks exploring Italy with her nutty friend Lisa. They were both nineteen at the time and full of expectations and hopes for life. Lisa always said that in order to survive in this crazy world, you have to lose your mind. A year later, Pia met Hans. Basically, the first boy she had a steady relationship with. And the last one so far.

A first boyfriend at twenty sounds a bit old-fashioned in this day and age. But that’s the way our Pia was—just like her mother. Mom did not submit to the zeitgeist of that generation and is still proud to say that she never got stoned or drunk at the legendary basement parties and only made out a few boys—if at all. Therefore, Pia’s mother had been a relatively pious girl. That was a tradition in the family. It was the same with Pia’s 91-year-old grandmother. She always warned her granddaughter about strange, tempestuous men, just as she had done with her own children.

Before Hans, Pia had already made out with boys. Hans had immortalized himself in Pia’s annals as the pioneer who was the first to explore the zones below her belly button. An area that she had bravely and stubbornly defended against all attacks from outside, mainly those from spirited, adventurous Italian ragazzi. So Pia lived up to her name. After all, the name Pia is Latin for godly, as well as pious, dutiful, and just. After the loss of Hans, the desire for a man softened her old-fashioned principles. In the meantime, she was not averse to a one-night stand. With a pack of condoms, Pia was always well-equipped against an unwanted pregnancy. Pia wasn’t surprised that condoms were also called Frenchies. In France, there doesn’t seem to be much difference between genuine love and wild sex.

Throwing coins into a fountain is sure to make wishes come true. Pia took one out of her wallet. At least it gave her a little foretaste of catching the bridal bouquet. This custom has a long tradition. In the church, the groom gives the wedding bouquet to his future wife. She then throws it over her shoulder after the ceremony—not into a fountain, however, but into a bunch of screaming hysterically, unmarried girls. The one who grabs the bouquet can count herself lucky; the wedding bells might soon start ringing for her.

Bang! A flash of inspiration struck Pia. No saving today, Pia! Today we’re wasting! One woman, one word! This wasn’t the Fontana di Trevi, but who cares?! She got up, walked a few meters, and stood with her back to the fountain. She threw the coin over her right shoulder with her left hand. Splash! Direct hit! Pia turned around and looked. She bent over the well in order to find the coin. However, it was too dark, and the water was too cloudy to see to the bottom.

»If you throw all your money down the well, your wallet will be at a low ebb, and I’ll be forced to invite you to my place for dinner on the weekend. A fatty roast is on the menu.«

  Well, who was that?

  Startled, Pia turned around and was pleasantly surprised.

  »You want to invite me to dinner?« said Pia.

  »Just don’t go on a diet; it would be a real shame to lose that pudgy figure.«

  »Who are you?« Pia wanted to know.

  He looks really appetizing! And he was dressed in an unusual but exquisite wardrobe. Like a prince! All respect!

Pia could hardly believe her luck. She’d invested just fifty cents and immediately got this return—a priceless specimen of beauty! She’d have to tell that fart Lukas; he’d burst with envy like a soap bubble. Was there magic involved?

  »Thomas«, he replied, emphasizing the last syllable.

  »And what is the name of our fountain fairy?«

  »Our fountain fairy is called... Well, what do you think her name is? I’ll give you three guesses!«

  »And if I guess right, is there a prize?«

  A prize? He wants a prize. Hm, he should get one—a delicious one.

  Somehow, Pia couldn’t shake off the feeling that she had to take a big chance here. Hence, she went all out.

»You can kiss me.«

  »On the hand?«

  »Oh, how charming! No, even on the mouth, not everyone is allowed to do that.«

  »A delightful idea; I’m thrille«, he said cheerfully, and walked towards her. Pia also thought it was great, very exciting, and very tingling. Now he was standing two meters in front of her.

  »Really a delightful idea«, he repeated. »Okay, I’ll say... Sandra?«

  »I’m afraid you didn’t win.«

  »Then... Anja?«

  »Another blank.«

  He’ll never find out. Pia, you have the prospect of a kiss, and you’d be a loser yourself if you did not give him a hot tip.

  She looked drolly at him.

  »My name is short; it starts with a P and ends with an A.« There’s only the letter I in between, you galoot!

The stranger looked deep into her eyes.

  »Pia, perhaps«

  »Bravo, Mr. Thomas«, she said happily, emphasizing the first syllable of each word and never the last, as the stupid French would do.

  »Pia, that’s right! Mr. Thomas, you’ve won! Congratulations. Pia is correct!«

  »Good friends call me Tom.«

  »I see, we’re on first name terms. Good guess, Tom.«

  »Not necessarily a good guess«, he confessed to her. »No saving today, do you remember?«

  »Today we’re wasting! Hey, you—uh, you just overheard me!«

  »I wouldn’t say that so directly. I’ve just been following your behavior with great interest. And I’m not deaf, either.«

  »Of course you are. I think so. I can well imagine that you’re not deaf. Just as I’m not mute, I was just talking to myself out loud. Happens sometimes. Okay, enough of that! Now go and get your winnings!«

As he sought physical contact, Pia’s body suddenly heated up. First, he took her hands in his. Pia could hardly wait. Lately, she had only known kisses, tenderness, and exquisite sex from her dreams. Were all her wishes now coming true? She closed her eyes expectantly. No saving today, Pia. She hadn’t really said that, did she? Had she thought it out loud? She did not remember, and it no longer mattered to her. She was aroused, and her stomach began to tingle violently. It was pleasant and much more important to her.

Their lips were only a few centimeters apart when, much to her chagrin, he stopped and pulled back.

  He looked past her face.

  »I have one more thing to confess to you, Pia.«

  She opened her eyes and looked at the object of her desire in astonishment.

  »And that would be? You’re gay? You practice celibacy?«

  »Neither«, he replied, and he let go of her hands.

  »I was just kidding.« Pia tapped her finger briefly on his nose.

  »There’s a spell on me«, he said in a worried voice.

»A spell? What kind of spell?« This caused confusion for Pia.

  »Let me explain. When a woman kisses me, I am going to change into a frog.«

  »You’re telling fairy tales.« Pia laughed with relief because she didn’t take him seriously. According to science, it took 300 million years for an ugly toad to turn into an adonis. Pia very much doubted whether the reverse would work in just a few seconds. And for Pia’s devout grandmother, there was no evolution but a divine creation, where God created the beasts of the earth on the sixth day and then man. This, in turn, is strongly doubted by science.

»Stick to the truth«, said Pia. »I like honest people. You’re joking, aren’t you?«

  »No, not at all«, he replied. »There’s a spell on me.«

  His words sounded serious and not at all like a joke.

  »Since when, may I ask?«

  »For a good thousand years.«

  »Congratulations, my little weirdo. Finally, someone I’ve met in person who’s older than my granny and crazier than my friend Lisa.«

  »So, you don’t believe me?«

Pia took a deep breath and did not think twice.

  »My dear Tom. Then the delicious fat roast will be cancelled on the weekend, and I’ll put you in the oven. I’ll make do with measly frogs’ legs on my plate. The French will envy me. They’ll go into ecstasy with every bite of this specialty.«

  »Do you like the French too? I love them! I love their language! I love their food!« He gushed, and the melancholy in his voice was blown away.

  »Yes, yes, yes«, stuttered Pia. »Of course, I like the French. Who doesn’t like them?«

  First, suck it up; the bitter truth takes time.

  »You like them? That’s fabulous!«

  »Yeah, sure«, she feigned.

  »Pia«, he said, looking deep into her eyes again. »I lied to you earlier.«

  »What did you do?« Pia became angry.

  »Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t change into a frog when I kiss you.«

Her grandma had always known it; she was right: be careful with strange, stormy men.

  »This is getting off to a good start«, said Pia. »We’ve known each other for less than five minutes, and you’ve already lied to me. I don’t even want to know how this is going to continue. The thing with the frog was really strange.«

  »I wanted to...«

  But she did not let him finish.

  »I...« Pia nagged and looked at him condescendingly. »I definitely...« She had to swallow briefly. »I would never lie to you.« Pia said brazenly, and she immediately regretted her mendacious nature. She did not know herself like that. She was embarrassed; she was in a stupid position. And because attack was always the best defense, she did it.

  »Poppycock, enough with the mumbo jumbo. Little lies add the necessary spice to any event«, she placated. Her tone sounded better again. »If a woman kisses you, then«, she whispered, »she’ll be enchanted by you and will definitely succumb to your cooking skills.«

A broad grin spread across Pia’s face when she was determined to succumb to him too. Overwhelmed by her appetite for a lover, Pia set her bod in motion and attacked.

  »But Pia«, he warned her, »the woman who kisses me—«

  Too late! Her lips pressed stormily against his. It was a delicacy for Pia. This appetizer already tastes so delicious. How must the main—

  A light blue aura surrounded the two of them for a brief moment. Bang! Like a bolt from the blue, there was an acoustic shock, and the aura fizzled out.

  Pia looked up at him with her long neck in bewilderment—there was indeed magic involved. However, he hadn’t changed into a frog, not at all, but she had been transformed! Unfortunately, the poor thing was now the object of his desire.

»Terrible, that goose!«

Prince Charming spoke with an unmistakable French accent now.

  »She won’t let the galoot finish, and she doesn’t believe a word he says. She had that coming.«

  He then pulled a gunnysack out of his jacket pocket, and with a thousand years of experience, the fowl disappeared into it in a flash before it could even start chattering excitedly. He was looking forward to the weekend; the poultry roast was guaranteed. Is there anything more beautiful for a man than a delicious fried goose?