Get Your Free Goodie Box here

Seven Days Spain by Elvira Frankenheim - HTML preview

PLEASE NOTE: This is an HTML preview only and some elements such as links or page numbers may be incorrect.
Download the book in PDF, ePub, Kindle for a complete version.

skirts and trousers, I threw them onto, before I found myself this evening’s winning outfit. I throw the rags into the shelf and me into my bed.

I can hear steps in the corridor. And voices. Dieter and Karl-Heinz seem to say good-bye to each other. Yes, exactly, the door opens and my darling lover is there, but he immediately vanishes into the toilet.

The next room I can hear, how Karl-Heinz palters into his. Rather clairaudient, this here. But for some south European standards still pretty normal. I can hear, how Karl-Heinz passes gas or was it my friend? I can hear how Karl-Heinz has his TV going. I just hope that Dieter doesn’t suddenly come up with the idea, to start something up with me. I really need sleep. In case he would start to fumble, I would directly cancel his procuration.

May 6, 2009 - 9:10 a.m.

No complaints about the breakfast, only Dieter is grumbling, the coffee taste awful. Nevertheless, he drinks and it inspires and his mood just appears to become a little better after the third one. Along the way, he’s testing, whether he would be able to manage some seven eggs, supposedly good for the potency. Supposed to save one from having blackouts while lust and love. It’s alright with me. Allegedly, the self-burned liquor of my grandpa was supposed to have the same effect. Gramps was always sure, that his self-distilled licorice schnapps would do nothing else but increase each and any potency, to sharpen the senses and to make sure of a healthy action of the bowels.

My granny stated, only the last to be true, actually. Nevertheless, my grandpa always tried some new tricks, till he had the optimized result.

Better to test than to study and more fun to self make than to buy.

I’m watching out for Karl-Heinz, but I can’t locate him anywhere.

Some tables further onwards, a very thick and ugly woman squatted with her husband, as well not necessarily any erotic decoration, and along with their two kids. »And that you will behave during this holiday here!« she bosses her son around and the daughter alike then stirs some pound of sugar into her coffee.


Some half an hour later, Dieter and I leave well-fed and in a good temper the dining hall, while the boy finally managed to rip out some bushels of his sister’s hair. In return, she now tries to scratch out his eyeballs, just happily checking out the knives and forks around.

»Hey I know this one! Isn’t it your bosom friend Kitty?« I’m asked by my darling honey pie, while we are approaching the reception counter.

Of course it is her. What a coincidence, that plump being is just taking quarters in our hotel. Quietly we steer toward Kitty and I address her smack from the side. Kitty can’t see me coming, as she is filling out the registration form. »Howdy …«

My best friend is shortly puzzled and then falls screaming with joy around my neck. »But, but, but …«, she stutters and can’t omit one clear sentence at all. I tell the story, why we’re here at all. I didn’t tell her before, as I plain forgot, to answer her SMS. »Imagine, I met a totally cute guy from Berlin during the transfer here on the bus«, she twitters, after having gotten herself together fast again. »A guy from Berlin? What’s his name?« »I’d love to know that myself.« »What?

You don’t know his name?« »I thought he would ask for my name first, but he didn’t. He’s in the advertisement.« Just like Germans.

When you meet somebody for the first time, you ask for the profession and then for the name. However Karl-Heinz breaks ranks. Now Kitty notices Dieter. »Oh, hi Didi.« »Hi Kitty, you’re here and not in Bollywood?«

We arrange a dinner date with Kitty at one p.m. Around two p.m. her new acquaintance would show up, he was set up in some other hotel in the village, but he would come over to fetch her here. Kitty is looking forward to that rendezvous and is beside herself with joy. Good chance for Kitty finally to tell her single-life good-bye. Dieter once stated concerning those matters: »Either Kitty is going to find some stupid freak soon, which makes her three kids; otherwise you will see her sitting lonely on some park bench some 15 years later. Legs weed spread, skirt drawn up high, so that all can adore her passion killer. Or, when all else fails, she can still go lesbian.« The shrink in me is sure, that deep in Kitty sleeps some fragile, slim beauty, but she is keeping her away with the help of loads of chocolate. Of course in the first 35

place she wants to fight the utter frustration about her lonely single life with this shit loads of chocolate. What a vicious circle and of course only some prince charming can save her out of that all.

May 6, 2009 - 9:45 a.m.

When it should be somehow possible, then we will plain stay in this hotel. Shall Dieter takes care of all the other things. He wants to gape again into Mrs. Sackmann’s blouse, anyway. Shall he clear all with her at 11 a.m. I will just happily head off to the beach. Close to the reception, I discuss everything with him. Ok, he stays, and he is going to talk to the tour guide, whether we can stay here until our departure.

He will find me at smack at the beach. Dieter is saying Bye-bye to me with some little kisses on my cheeks and runs to the outside. No idea, where he wants to run to.

I just stroll some more through the hotel. At the bar I find Karl-Heinz drinking beer and he looks terrible, like Donald Duck on bird flu. »Hi Karl-Heinz. How are you? Did you already check out the offers of the alcohol department? Again fit as a fiddle?« As an answer, firstly I receive a well cultivated gulp and then he says: »Fit only for a knacker’s yard. Got some plain nice hangover!« That seems to be the starting shot for some further alcoholic escapade. »I see, a nice hangover, I was already guessing so. By the way, what actually are you doing for a living, Karl-Heinz?« »Waiting. Waiting for chances.

Waiting for better times to come up.« »Ok, means nothing right?«

»Yes, exactly!« »And how does one finance one’s holidays that way?«

»By making debts.« Karl-Heinz is laughing but then gets to the point.

»Luckily I have a rich aunt, that on and off helps me out with some little financial injection. But the debts of course, they stay, but I’m rather Mr. Spender.« »So that’s the reason you wanna fuck off in the foreign?« »Not really, I’d like to pay my debts.« »And what about going to work? Already ever tried?« »Well, going to work isn’t necessarily my hobby-horse.«


Sloth back - sloth forth. Man has to work, has to do something. To work means, to do something for someone else, everyone has some God-given capacity, knows my father, the only thing, he’d never do, will be indulged in any sweet idleness.

»But I’m still on the search to find the right job. I’m still on the search to find my place in this world.« Karl-Heinz orders another beer.

»Sometimes for me life can only be understood as wickerwork of never-ending absurdities«, cries Karl-Heinz. With a statement as such, during his life crisis my father would have stood up straight on some bar stool and would have donated an endless happy scenic applause for such a counter philosopher in some completely smoky bar.

I hurry to order some Coke. From the sad undertone in his voice, the shrink in me deduces instantly that Karl-Heinz just wants to over cover his insecurities and annoyance with this kind of stupid gibber-ish. But still better than all the damn crank yards, that constantly have to take out their own inner discontent on others. Another reason to gossip about the life of others, to have some better light cast on oneself.

»Whether or not ever cocaine was a serious ingredient of Coca Cola, will probably stay one of those ever unsolved riddles on this planet«, states Karl-Heinz himself, a Karl-Heinz, suddenly a little incarnation of happiness again. »And the thoughts of a woman will always be of a deep mystery for me«, he confesses. »A few secrets are a kind of effective aphrodisiacal, too. I’m going to the beach soon. What’s up with you?« »I’ll just drink some little more, I mean, doesn’t cost anything, right? And then I might be going to the pool, armed with some bath towel, and find me to challenge holiday-maker into some serious duel about the last sun chair as such, or something like that.« I honor this ill rap with a grin, which I can’t plainly avoid wearing.

To challenge the so called intelligence of Karl-Heinz a little, I ask him about Bucharest. »Bucharest is the capital of Rumania. I know this accidentally.« »Right, I nearly forgot«, I add and fumble around in my hair. »Though school. Talk about geography, what I say. To read anything was never my cup of tea in general. The most intellectual 37

artifact of any print matters was for a pretty long time a soccer mag.

Later I actually did add a dictionary, a Spanish dictionary. Talk about any learning, I’m still able to know all the determined schemes of all Taekwon-Do belt exams right away by heart.«

A man dressed up as can, joins us at the bar. A more than captivating smell finds its entrance into my nose, a mix of a very expensive shampoo and exclusive fragrance. He seems to be as old as Dieter and wants to force us into some discussions. »Does anyone know Seville?

Have you ever been to Seville?« Neither Karl-Heinz, nor me are able to answer that question. »It’s really beautiful there, really. Seville is the capital of Andalusia and the fourth biggest town of Spain.« »Well, exactly there, the Barber invented the hair-do«, added Karl-Heinz dryly. The man plain ignores the remark and keeps on lecturing:

»Seville is the home of Carmen, Don Giovanni and Don Juan.« »And of Donald Duck«, adds Karl-Heinz and wants to know: »And what about Don Quixote, the knight of the sad countenance? Didn’t he come from Spain, too?« »Sure enough, but strictly speaking he came from Castilla-La Mancha. However the author wrote his novel in Seville - in jail. Yes, Don Quixote, the incarnation of an antihero. In the end, finally he dies of melancholia.« »And I will die of a water lack«, fears Karl-Heinz, taking a hearty draft of beer and pose a question. »You really know something about this planet, right?« »I’ve already been to so many countries all over the world«, the man ensured us. »Among others like eleven times in the USA«, he proudly adds. »But this is only one country«, corrects Karl-Heinz and puts a new question. »Have you ever been to New York? - Rio? - Tokyo?

This would have been three countries.« »I’ve been to New York for the second time, I have once been at the Copacabana and of course I more than adored all the coffee-skinned ladies from Brazil.« »Well, you can find hot women everywhere, hmm?« continues Karl-Heinz and starts telling a story.

»Once I knew one in our town, she was some kind of black-haired, and man, she was so utterly hot, she would just plain put her finger into some pot and the water would boil up in a second, you know, like an immersion heater. But she was so damn naive. She married some kind of a dazzler. Could I fool some women, I’d have been already 38

married, but I’m a more than a miserable actor. When I was a kid, I was more than sure, that each and every black-haired woman was some kind of nymphomaniac scorcher. It took me sixteen years to find out that’s right. Listen, this amouros tete-a-tete wasn’t unperilous, that was a close shav.« »Why - what did happen?« I get prying. »Well, in the middle of the night, the lover of the black-haired came home. I really didn’t know anything about him, and of course he was as damn welcome as any controller in the tram. He wanted to come to blows, luckily I could escape.«

Now it’s again the turn of the well dressed man. »Already next month, I’m going to Denmark. There, I won’t spend any holiday, but I want to have my eye problems taken care of in some private acupuncture praxis.« »You go to Denmark? That shows a lot of fantasie. Next month I’m going to my personal quarry pond and will have me bit by as much mosquitoes as can.« After this rap, Karl-Heinz orders a slug, of course only with the intention that the beer in his belly doesn’t feel that lonely.

»Are you alone here?« I ask the man, from whom I know neither name nor where he comes from. »I’m married, and this for the second time, but I left this wife back home. My first wife died some seven years ago, she was from the Philippines. After I had my tears dried, three days later, I went on some quest for a new one.« »You did get on some plane and flew to Asia, to the islands?« asks Karl-Heinz. »No, I had myself shown the new catalogue.« A wife out of a catalogue?

What kinds of jokes is this supposed to be?

The man proudly shows off his wristwatch. »Look, a real Rolex. No imitation from Turkey.« »Look«, says Karl-Heinz and points onto his mouth. »Real teeth, no imitation. No gold teeth.« The definitely isn’t losing his calm and keeps on jabbering. Pride back - pride forth. Pride is nothing but the crutch of the insecure.

I’m not at all any happy listener, it plain sucks. My inner deft of enthusiasm simply tells me to fuck off. I’d love to chill out this beautiful morning at some undisturbed place, and thus I tell the two good-bye. Ascend to my room, to pack all and everything for some 39

serious sunbathing. A person that buys a bride, is more than suspect to me. Alike Disaster Detlef’s sister. My sister told me stories about her.

She had a very suspect cleaning pratice. With a cleaning rag the dishes were washed, the bathtub and the cat litter pan were cleaned, but chronologically seen in the converse sequence.

May 6, 2009 - 10:00 a.m.

Wearing flip-flops I dilly-dally in some long white cotton trousers and in some still pink flowery H&M-top from our hotel to the beach. For a short while, I’m escorted by a bunch of tiny insects that whirr around my head. I don’t need more than a quarter of an hour to get to the bayou of Cala Marsal. The bay claims to have received its name from this hotel, which is only separated by some road from the beach. Just about as if the metropolis Istanbul has been straight named after this little joint with this arbitrary delicious doner kebab. Or like a prison wing named after Disaster Detlef. For some convict, this has the same significance, as if some artist is honored with a star on the Walk of Fame.

To find some free little spot isn’t that hard, and it’s early and its more than early season anyway. I get this big towel out of my beach bag and spread it. Then I take off my trousers and top and get comfy. Well, here I go, lying on my back in some yellow bikini and think about my future, well, with the result that things never turn out the way you expect. Right, Mr. Columbus? Man proposes, God disposes. These pieces of wisdom should be well known. Why is that so? Men who love God, like my father, are more than sure that God always has some better plan in the back, then the one you expect. But again, it is a question of time, when this becomes clear to you. This can take some weeks, months, years, or, well, a whole life. Sometimes this will never be clear to you, well; the ways of the master are more than unfathom-able. This is nearly like, well, if men would have to understand all and everything that goes on in the head of the girls, they’d never find any end.


On my right hand side I observe two boys. One of them lies on his belly and has a more than an attractive body. His face, I can’t recognize it at all. I’m asking myself seriously, will this face look like what the body promises? His fat friend seems to be the total opposite of him. He lies there like some sort of stranded whale and additionally he looks bad, another of those horrifying mutants of this species man.

On my left hand side, in some distance, two German girls take their bikini tops off. I discover above the backside of one girl a tattoo like the antlers of an elk. The other with the thick bells wears some G-string. When she has something between her teeth, she still can make use of her thong, being as thin as some dental floss. Topless isn’t anything for me. Better some snow-white tits, that will be tenderly massaged by some man, than this burned brown tits, that nobody cares about that are only an object for horny men’s eyes or envious lady’s eyes. Envy back - envy forth. I’m very proud of my optimized bust size, as nature, sorry God, really meant it well with me. Though my breasts are surely still underlying gravity, too. My sister always says: Time is poison for the beauty of a woman.

Meanwhile the whale with the ugly mug sat up. Now he starts to smoke, is drawn with the despair of some crack junkie his cigarette and focuses hard on me. Probably he hopes that I would spend alittle time of my holidays in his bed.

Only some very few had the pleasure of ever seeing my breasts naked.

I should have never shown them to my last lover. After a broken relationship I immediately started up a new one but without thinking.

It was plain frigid love at first sight. That’s my dream boy, into all eternity, that was exactly my emotion. But feelings often lie and love is blind, anyway. But when my eyes were suddenly popping open some four weeks later, what a damn frigid idiot I got fooled by, then all and everything was already over anyway. As fast as I could, I broke away from this guy, who reduces women to their tits, ass and legs. Apart from that, he thought himself to be completely irresistible.

An opinion that he seems to own the exclusive rights for.


Many men do actually cough up some kind of gentleman like behavior, when they are on a women hunt. But as soon as they got what they want, it’s like some mask dropping and they don’t hide any longer. As soon as the little meow is purring in its cage, any mimicry for the hunter is completely overdue. His real identity is now revealed clearly.

Dieter on the other hand, is completely different, he understands, is sensitive and more than passionate. This mix is really kind of extraordinary. Feelings don’t lie that’s the contents of many German pop songs. Given the idea, feelings wouldn’t lie, my father always explained to me, he would have long been a millionaire, with all his bets in horse racing. One should definitely separate between some kind of inner sureness and some feeling. A feeling is more or less vanishing as fast as it comes up. True love isn’t based on any emotions. My father knows, someone who obeys his feelings, is someone without any principles.

Oh yes, there was Tim, my first real boyfriend. Tim was the first boy that ever popped his tongue into my mouth. Well of course he would have loved to pop something else into some other parts of my body, too, but I didn’t let him, in those days back yonder. I broke away from him, when he started to make out with Caro; at those times she was my best friend and at the same time my worst rival ever. The day, that Caro for the first time met my Tim wild style, she lost three things in one go: her tongue piercing, her innocence and me being her friend.

But this is already quite a while ago and I was pretty starry-eyed and innocent then. A woman does lose her ability in a certain age to give birth to kids, but her naiveté, she’ll never completely lose. By the way, today Caro earns her full living with fellatio. Let’s drop that subject.

The sun was burning onto my skin and it is time to cream myself. My belly button turned blast furnace and it won’t take too long, till the piercing will turned fluid. I straighten up and grasp the sunscreen and start right away. While I smear that shit all over me, I take some short look to my left. He comes straight up to me, but he doesn’t see me.

Bruce Willis, at least his twenty years younger version. This time he doesn’t wear any black trousers, but a T-shirt in black. He doesn’t see 42

me, because his eyes suck themselves deep into the two topless gals.

Now he spots me and focuses on me. He smiles at me. He’s coming my direction. My heart starts to beat hart.

»May I help you?« Oh holy shit, no Englishman! Well, he is defiantly lacking the can of beer in his hand. Where can he be of any help? Ok, the art of smearing the shit all over, applying suntan lotion, wasn’t hard to guess, what I’m doing right now. Mh-hm... Why not? He can help me with some back rubs. When Dieter has this friggin’ tour guide fumble his ass, then well, I can have that guy easily grease me up, back wise. Why not?

»My name is Jack and I’m from Manchester. What’s your name?« Yet another! Sadly, the global warming still hasn’t lead to any subtropical climate on the British islands, so that the Englishman would be able to plain forget about any holidays at the Mediterranean. I tell him my name and Jack in black wants more basic data. »You’re from Russia, aren’t you?« »No, I’m deutsch ... from Germany.« I’m mumbling.

»Oh, beautiful German girl. Give me the sunscreen.« He squats down next to me and I hand him the bottle over and he is bloting some onto my shoulders.

»Do you wanna ride my cock tonight?« Eh? What is this supposed to mean? What the friggin hell shall I do tonight? Ride my cock? Cock? I think a cock was one animal on Old MacDonald’s farm. This English nursery rhyme is well known in Germany. My last English class has been quite some while ago, I do need some coaching and thus I will actually ask him for the meaning. »Eh ... Jack? What is the meaning of to ride a cock?« I hadn’t registered at all, that Karl-Heinz joined us and he overheard the conversation. »Who are you?« Jack wants to know. He asks that rather unfriendly, as he feels totally disturbed in his undertakings buys Karl-Heinz’ presence.

»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 I’m gonna 43

kick your ass!« Jack threatens and starts to apply lotion on me. »Hand offs that girl, or I’m 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 doesn’t 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 didn’t get damaged and causes some life-long 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.

I’m 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, it’s 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, I’m 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 c’mon, 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 don’t know any more.« I’ve 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 dentist’s.« 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. I’m happy.« »I’m 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 shouldn’t 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. »I’m so sorry to hear that«, says Kitty full of compassion. Shortly after two p.m. Kitty’s 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.

»I’m going to bet that Kitty has something going on tonight. She is such hot ...« »Hey you’re crazy!« I go at Dieter, »Kitty is a nice girl.

She isn’t a wild girl.« »How many percent are you sure? C’mon. I’m going to ask this Berliner tomorrow, whether he scored with her, I say yes. What’s your bet? And how much?« Such an extraordinary bet, we’ve never had one like that. »35 euro!« »Agreed!«

May 6, 2009 - 7:10 p.m.

Karl-Heinz lives! He’s 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, you’ve to take this chick in doggy-style.«


Shortly after eight, Dieter and I are on the way. We leave the two alone. Kitty’s guy hasn’t yet shown up and thus my friend is a little worried. But to be worried means, to fear that expectations won’t 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, it’s the veil of a miraculous little fairy. Around ten we’re 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?« I’m a little bit perplexing for some moment. »Oh... no...« I’m answering very gentle. »We can’t 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 won’t 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 can’t 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, what’s the hell the matter? Did he pick up a bitch?« »How could I know? I didn’t notice anyone.«

»Just a moment, I think, maybe in my travel bag could be a pack.«

Again I’m perplexed. »Since when do you have condoms? You’ve 46

never told me about that!« Dieter isn’t giving any answer, and just goes quietly through his luggage.

»Voilà, I’ve got it, the pack. One is still left over.« »Why is there only one left? Where’s 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 weren’t 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 won’t 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 wouldn’t 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-enough’s want to have, thus they never marry.

»C’mon, 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, didn’t 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 don’t know, what you did last summer, but I’d love to know, my best pal.

I step out and knock at the door next door. »Hey Karl-Heinz. Man, open, pleas? It’s 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 don’t 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 can’t 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?« I’m snarling, and turn my back towards my friend. I’m 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. Kitty’s moaning gets louder and louder, it will even entertain the night porter on the ground floor. »Galactic, it’s all happening there«, giggles Dieter and is more than curious. »With what kind of a bitch does he do it?« »No idea, I didn’t 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 I’d 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 wouldn’t even have the idea to reproduce. But that sex outside any marriage would be a sin. I believe him, but I don’t follow.

No sex before any marriage, who can handle that? And plain trying convulsively to abolish the natural sex drive, doesn’t 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 won’t 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 God’s 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 isn’t 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, doesn’t 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, that’s 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 you’re seriously injured in some hospital, then you just go for one thing, and that’s to feel well again.

The loss of the car won’t be of any importance alike the results from the last soccer game do lose all their importance additionally, they won’t interested you any shit at all. What does really interest you, will be, that you jumped off death’s shovel and that you get well again.

God bless, the two don’t feel utterly sportively challenged and they don’t work their way through the Kama Sutra, the beggar’s 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 don’t 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 I’m not totally hungry yet, it’s still way too early for any of that. Though Dieter didn’t take a sip of coffee yet, he’s 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. It’s 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, »that’s 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; I’m rather sure about that. I think, your best friend wasn’t 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 50

consultation-hour and she obviously immediately annexed him.« I assume. »Well, then our little Kitty will have probably spent the night alone, and I’d 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 you’re 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 don’t think well about any one-night-stands, and Kitty doesn’t 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, I’m 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 won’t 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? We’ll 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, I’m curious.« »Ok my darling. What happened with the two lacking 51

condoms? I’d 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 I’d 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, didn’t we?«

»C’mon now, tell me!!!« I rudely address him and threaten him with my right fist. »Okay, okay, relax. I’m 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 you’d get Kitty easily in bed, when one plain wants it hard enough. »Wait a sec, these condoms weren’t 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 I’m 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 hasn’t 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, wasn’t it Kitty?«

The two shortly throw some sparkling smiles at me and head to plunder the buffet, while Dieter doesn’t even understand any of my allusions and keeps on wondering about any nightly hotness. »But, it wasn’t that hot tonight???«

»Oh yes, Karl-Heinz«, I ask him, »what was it again, what this Englishman wanted to do with me tonight? Something like To ride my cock, or am I wrong with that now?« »I can tell, what he wanted to do with you, but I won’t. Normally I wouldn’t understand this either, but 52

due to my strong and lasting consummation of porn on American websites, call me an expert now.« Well ok, this guy now at least confesses, that he is plain watching pornos. Ruthless, without any mercy and without any respect for casualties. Yes, again, I gotta agree with my father, that a clear, straight and honest answer, a clear yes or no, is better than any beating about the bush. Better a man, that is honest with himself than someone who constantly pretends. Concerning Karl-Heinz consummation of porns, Kitty will surely find out in bed, whether this has some other benefiting effects.

Even a blind person would see that there’s something cooking between Kitty and Karl-Heinz. Their behavior can’t deny that both are more than heavily crushing. This is noticed by Dieter, too, and after the new couple retreated again, he says to me: »Hi magic mouse, did you notice something going on between them, too?« »There was quite something going on last night.« Dieter starts to laugh. »Now, that was our chuppy Kitty yesterday night groaning!?« »Exactly my honey pie, because of this Berlin guy missed the date, Karl-Heinz did comfort Kitty immediately.« »And with each glass of alcohol the two came closer and closer ...« »Guess, yep, that’s what was going on!« »Hey, wait a moment you sly old fox, then I won my bet!« »What bet again?

Didn’t we agree to forget that?«

May 7, 2009 - 10:20 a.m.

According to weatherman it will be bright and sunny for the next days.

Without the dream couple Dieter and I take the bus to Porto Cristo.

More than worth seeing there, and highly recommendable the Cuevas del Drach, the »Caves of the dragons«. They are the oldest and biggest stalactite caves in Majorca and are named after one fabulous dragon, that is supposed to take care of some treasure there. In Germany, we have a gazillion of such dragons, of women, that guard their treasure from man so that he’s not going to the corner bar, or get amused visiting some sporting event. A man, that always does, what a woman wants, will become eventually totally uninteresting, believe me. In the afternoon, we take the bus back and enjoy the rest of the day and the marvelous whether just makes that pretty easy.


May 8, 2009

The weatherman seems to be right, the day begins with a lot of sun and nearly no clouds. Again without Karl-Heinz and Kitty, we make a walking-tour heading to the ruins of the Castillo de Santeria, that finds itself on some 440 yards high ascertainment. For the way there, we need about three hours, but that is worth the trouble, as we have a more than fantastic view all over the east of the island from here.

May 9, 2009

The weatherman doesn’t lie apparently, at least not in Spain. A wonderful day is coming up, again. Something like that is hardly known in Germany. What we do know is rain. To make us a little more comfortable, we rent a Seat Ibiza Diesel. With this rental car, Dieter and I head first to Cala D’or. This beautiful little village belongs to the few spots on this island that is still in British hands.

Here, next to the domestic Spaniard, the German tourist belongs to the threatened species, too. The travel business Meckermann should start up some blitzkrieg here and should drag with utter dumping prices some Germans into this village, then it will be only a question of time, when we’ll take command in Cala D’or. From this village onwards it isn’t that very far to the dreamlike beaches of the Cala Mondragó.

The little fisher village Cala Figuera lies a few miles south of the Cala Mondragó and belongs to one of the most picturesque villages of the island. It lies along some fjord like bay, deeply raging into the land, with a bunch of cute fisher boats and sailing boats anchoring there.

We go further direction south and take a longer break at the beautiful beach of Cala Santanyí. The bay deeply cutting into the land is framed by forested rocks. On the beaches right hand side, we clamber up the stairs and find the place, from where one can admire the bizarre perforated rock Es Pontas.


Close to Colonia St. Jordi the shore resembles some kind of duny landscape, more than known to me from the North Sea. We’re driving till Cala Pi and then turn around and drive back, we don’t want to visit the amusement center of El Arenal, an early bastion of mass tourism.

Here the Germans have a party 24 hours a day. It’s a mad house like the Oktoberfest. And here they mutually poured beer all over their heads.

May 10, 2009

This very day Kitty and Karl-Heinz finally manage to leave their bed.

To talk them into some little island cruise isn’t difficult, as the program of Mr. Toshiba isn’t a real alternative. Karl-Heinz has taken his bandage off. He is able to walk free of pain again. Kitty has to get to a upright position first. No surprise, when one is camping out on some mattress for some 24 hours first.

We’re on the way around midday, it’s again a beautiful day. We go to Sa Coma, to stroll around some there in the Punta de n’Amer. The Punta de n’Amer is a national park, located between the villages Cala Millor and Sa Coma. Today, there is the total building ban. In the middle of that area they had built an old watchtower, back yonder, the Castell de sa Punta. In front of this castell, the Bar es Castell can easily be found with its wonderful beer garden, where one can deeply enjoy and take the view in - allover the whole coastline straight till Cala Millor. The sun, the ocean and the castell, all like some illustration of some book of fairytales. In this very fairy tale, the couple lives happily ever after. Yes, the romantic love, the eternal love. Is this now only a lie, an illusion, a modern myth? Does it really only exist in songs, books or films? Is this, what you can watch on the silk screen, only some illusion, brought out by some highly qualified trade unionists, under the direction of Alan Smithee?

We take a short break in the beer garden and enjoy the sweet idleness.

Then we drive to Cala Ratjada. In the haven you have the opportunity to buy tickets for some trips with a boat. With some luck, you can see dolphins that are apparently not threatened by extinction. In opposite 55

to any understanding, sensitive and passionate men. My father, by the way, was that angry, that so much money is invested in the saving of animals, in spite of a billion of humans suffer from starvation.

We see our proud man with a chick. After some short erotic interlude, may the suspect declared winner shortly shove his tongue a little into the ear of his company. His Philippine wife sits probably at home in front of the babble box and watches some soap, where someone betrays his wife. Betrayers do correct the luck; this was already known by Casanova. And to be able to buy up everything, doesn’t make any happy either.

From Cala Ratjada westwards up to the big bay of Alcúdia. We take a little longer break in Ca’n Picafort. This place in former years was a little fishing village and today some holiday location, including all and everything, a tourist’s heart can crave for. Numberless cafes and restaurants lined up on the promenade.

Via Manacor, we drive back direction Porto Colom and then shortly after Felantix, when the direction sign to Sant Salvador nearly jumps into our eyes. Dieter turns the car right to the small lane and after a million curves we actually do reach the cloister. From here, you can enjoy and even better view allowed the island, better than the one from the ruins of the Castell de Santueri, where I found myself traipsing with Dieter two days ago. We could have obviously saved us that stress. Totally.

May 11, 2009

After breakfast, we give the rental car back and enjoy the seventh day, thus the last day before flying back. Departure day doesn’t count as any holiday day, because it just means stress. We go to bed early, because we have to be ready around six in the morning for the transfer to the airport. Then off direction homebound and the daily grind has you happily back in its claws.


May 12, 2009 - 11:55 a.m.

Our Boeing landed safely in Düsseldorf. Karl-Heinz stays another week long and can keep on entertaining himself with Kitty who will have to say So long to Majorca tomorrow. How their story will continue, time will tell. Physical passion isn’t to be the basis for a sane relationship, but their relationship just started out right away and it is a flux, a process. Thus everything is possible even up to offspring. Let’s wait and see. No doubt about a warm hot female body is for a man more than just some gain in life-quality. Karl-Heinz did drastically reduce his joke-cracking’s because Kitty is continually yattering.

A relationship is a chance. Maybe Karl-Heinz will finally manage through Kitty’s influence to get something going job wise. What about drinking? Alcohol is good for shit anyway, apart from leading onto the dependency and into the self-destruction. The one, who learns out of mistakes, will become mature. The one, who always shifts the blame on others, doesn’t mature.

A movie or books, where the main characters will finally marry in the end, are thought by many to be a story with a happy end. A movie is finished, but the life goes on. After the marriage now, we can have all the real problems start, mostly. Crises will come and will challenge the marriage. What is important is, how one is handling any of such a crisis. Life crises are at the same time chances for life. The shrink in me knows that love creates trust, but fears do create distrust. Crisis will inevitably come and will challenge the marriage. What about Prince Charles? Did he learn from mistakes? I think yes, he married again, but his new wife isn’t as pretty as Diana and for this reason there isn’t any danger that a riding instructor will be too interested in his wife.

An all-inclusive holiday in Majorca seems to equal nearly a life in paradise. But of course all idyllic spots like that will be haunted sooner or later alike by crisis, catastrophes and criminality, and for many this would be so very disillusioning. But isn’t the ideal world nothing but some illusion? My father says, yes. And I’m sure, that he will be right, when he claims that we live in a fallen world. For more 57

information about that, please consult the last pages of the Holy Bible and the newscast on TV.

Often a second chance is mentioned, talking of new life and new beginning. God gave us humans a second chance, when he nailed his son to the cross, thus to pay with his blood for all our sins. The holiday exposed us to be sinners, and sin is the separation from God.

But thanks to the belief in Jesus Christ we will be reunited with God.

The one who expiations, the one who accepts Jesus Christ as his savior, will be saved, no matter, what all evil he did in his past. Thus there will ever be a chance for each criminal, prostitute and riding instructor.