Friday, August 21. 2009
A Paperback Hero, Copiously Re-Told
Ruby had it all. She flew her plane whenever it was rented, or for her own amusement, and she was engaged. She was queen of the air, and of the land. Her fiancé, Hamish, knew so. And he told everyone. They'd be getting married in a Cash's fever, and Jack was to be best man.
But Jack had never told anyone what his goals were. Who would have thought that a tough trucker was a fucking novelist? Didn't he live in his truck with nothing but his dog Lance to support him? And there he was, handing in his love story to a Sidney editor. He knew the business, and all.
Ruby had to come with him to Sidney because he had used her name on the cover. And he wasn't prepared to be out in the open. Of course, Ruby was furious, at first, that she was to be the famous newcomer. But when the publishers promised her to cover all her wedding expenses -?
Then again, Jack had written that novel about a couple, some lady and her Brian, and he was to die. Ruby didn't want Brian to die, and she told Jack, as if he could somehow correct that now. Was his female hero like her? Was it that simple? Clichés actually belong to that sort of literature, Jack had told her. But life?
However, she had to return home as soon as possible before a drunken night's moment in Australia's metropolis was going to have an effect on her future plans. After all, she was to go with Hamish to his long time promised farm land. And Jack, of course, took cover at his publishing lady's, her manners as polished and polite as could be. That was where he belonged, Ruby thought. How was she to know that Jack was selling himself for a price? He came out into the open, after his publishing lady had agreed on keeping it firmly on business. He'd rather return to his truck, and Lance, than choose a love he couldn't live.
But then Lance had accidentally made Ruby crash her plane, and sprain her ankle, and Jack had dared to take a ride in another plane to be with her, even though he was terrified of flying. And that was just after Hamish had realised that thing about their lack of chemistry, leaving to go to his land without her. And then Ruby had realised, despite or because of that drunken night, that Jack was the one and only.
And finally Jack told her what he would have never told her, if it wasn't for Hamish telling him that it was not Jack's fault, nor her's, but fate's. And that's the way it goes, sometimes, that life speeds up and rushes to a happy ending like a paper back novel you'd find at a truck stop. In a movie.
But Jack had never told anyone what his goals were. Who would have thought that a tough trucker was a fucking novelist? Didn't he live in his truck with nothing but his dog Lance to support him? And there he was, handing in his love story to a Sidney editor. He knew the business, and all.
Ruby had to come with him to Sidney because he had used her name on the cover. And he wasn't prepared to be out in the open. Of course, Ruby was furious, at first, that she was to be the famous newcomer. But when the publishers promised her to cover all her wedding expenses -?
Then again, Jack had written that novel about a couple, some lady and her Brian, and he was to die. Ruby didn't want Brian to die, and she told Jack, as if he could somehow correct that now. Was his female hero like her? Was it that simple? Clichés actually belong to that sort of literature, Jack had told her. But life?
However, she had to return home as soon as possible before a drunken night's moment in Australia's metropolis was going to have an effect on her future plans. After all, she was to go with Hamish to his long time promised farm land. And Jack, of course, took cover at his publishing lady's, her manners as polished and polite as could be. That was where he belonged, Ruby thought. How was she to know that Jack was selling himself for a price? He came out into the open, after his publishing lady had agreed on keeping it firmly on business. He'd rather return to his truck, and Lance, than choose a love he couldn't live.
But then Lance had accidentally made Ruby crash her plane, and sprain her ankle, and Jack had dared to take a ride in another plane to be with her, even though he was terrified of flying. And that was just after Hamish had realised that thing about their lack of chemistry, leaving to go to his land without her. And then Ruby had realised, despite or because of that drunken night, that Jack was the one and only.
And finally Jack told her what he would have never told her, if it wasn't for Hamish telling him that it was not Jack's fault, nor her's, but fate's. And that's the way it goes, sometimes, that life speeds up and rushes to a happy ending like a paper back novel you'd find at a truck stop. In a movie.
Monday, August 17. 2009
An Island of Opportunities
He had to follow his wife to that foreign country. And he had no idea about its religion or tradition.
It was a life time job they had offered her at her special field of science as a university professor. So he had to look after the child, which he wasn’t used to. However, times were bad, and he could not support his family, not having been offered an equivalent job. And, despite his own lack of opportunities, he was honestly happy for her having a decent career.
Soon though, to his astonishment, the daily routines with the child filled his life quite satisfyingly. Therefore he actually feared the day when the child would be going to school. He still did not know about tradition or religion here, because he had never mingled with people. Also as a family they had hardly ever met anyone. They did not even know their neighbours, apart from wishing them a good day. So what was he going to do with his time off, since education started at such a young age in this country?
He then was relieved by a thought his wife brought up, that he could make contact as soon as the child would be entering school. Surely there were other parents who would welcome to have someone to talk to.
And as a matter of fact, when the first day of school was over, they had actually met half a dozen very nice couples. They had been ever so friendly, and one couple, a friendly consultant and his wife had even invited them to their lovely home for this or another of the upcoming weekends.
So the next day, when he was to pick up the child, he friendly greeted each of the mothers waiting in front of the gate. And when the woman who had been inviting his family arrived at the gate, he had a nice and casual chat with her, just like the evening before, making a joke and telling her about his first lonely morning.
But then he realised that the woman was hardly taking any notice of what he said, using the first opportunity to talk to someone else.
He frowned. What had happened? Had he said something wrong? Had he offended her in any way? He just didn’t know.
At this moment, the child, running at him, very excited to get home after this first day all alone at school, took his mind of things. So in the evening he had not even recalled the incident nor told his wife, when the telephone rang and she answered it by saying her name.
“Yes”, she said, and then “oh”, and “oh” again.
“Anything wrong?” he asked worriedly as soon as, with a peculiar look on her face, she had put down the receiver.
“I don’t know”, she said. “But apparently you talked to this man’s wife this morning, and he now told me this in order to express his deep concerns.”
“What?” He could not believe it. “I don’t understand?”
“In this country you cannot just talk to another man’s wife without crossing boundaries. It’s religion or tradition.”
“Well”, he said feeling slightly offended. “Don’t you think it’s a bit off?”
She nodded and shrugged, and then comforted him, knowing that his disappointment was so complete because of what was going to be in front of them rather than behind.
The next day he stood on the opposite side of the gate than those women, and he argued with himself, contemplating about the reasons why he had come here in the first place, and whether they would have come at all, had they known what life here was like.
People often looked down on Muslim countries, having no idea about their religion or tradition, but he was sure it could not have been worse. At least, the Muslims would not drink as much alcohol as they did here.
© 2009
It was a life time job they had offered her at her special field of science as a university professor. So he had to look after the child, which he wasn’t used to. However, times were bad, and he could not support his family, not having been offered an equivalent job. And, despite his own lack of opportunities, he was honestly happy for her having a decent career.
Soon though, to his astonishment, the daily routines with the child filled his life quite satisfyingly. Therefore he actually feared the day when the child would be going to school. He still did not know about tradition or religion here, because he had never mingled with people. Also as a family they had hardly ever met anyone. They did not even know their neighbours, apart from wishing them a good day. So what was he going to do with his time off, since education started at such a young age in this country?
He then was relieved by a thought his wife brought up, that he could make contact as soon as the child would be entering school. Surely there were other parents who would welcome to have someone to talk to.
And as a matter of fact, when the first day of school was over, they had actually met half a dozen very nice couples. They had been ever so friendly, and one couple, a friendly consultant and his wife had even invited them to their lovely home for this or another of the upcoming weekends.
So the next day, when he was to pick up the child, he friendly greeted each of the mothers waiting in front of the gate. And when the woman who had been inviting his family arrived at the gate, he had a nice and casual chat with her, just like the evening before, making a joke and telling her about his first lonely morning.
But then he realised that the woman was hardly taking any notice of what he said, using the first opportunity to talk to someone else.
He frowned. What had happened? Had he said something wrong? Had he offended her in any way? He just didn’t know.
At this moment, the child, running at him, very excited to get home after this first day all alone at school, took his mind of things. So in the evening he had not even recalled the incident nor told his wife, when the telephone rang and she answered it by saying her name.
“Yes”, she said, and then “oh”, and “oh” again.
“Anything wrong?” he asked worriedly as soon as, with a peculiar look on her face, she had put down the receiver.
“I don’t know”, she said. “But apparently you talked to this man’s wife this morning, and he now told me this in order to express his deep concerns.”
“What?” He could not believe it. “I don’t understand?”
“In this country you cannot just talk to another man’s wife without crossing boundaries. It’s religion or tradition.”
“Well”, he said feeling slightly offended. “Don’t you think it’s a bit off?”
She nodded and shrugged, and then comforted him, knowing that his disappointment was so complete because of what was going to be in front of them rather than behind.
The next day he stood on the opposite side of the gate than those women, and he argued with himself, contemplating about the reasons why he had come here in the first place, and whether they would have come at all, had they known what life here was like.
People often looked down on Muslim countries, having no idea about their religion or tradition, but he was sure it could not have been worse. At least, the Muslims would not drink as much alcohol as they did here.
© 2009
Saturday, August 15. 2009
Another Chick Flick
It happened that multimillionaire Flick was to celebrate a stag party with his huntsmen comrades. For this event he had chosen a traditional pub in Munich. And, of course, money was not an object. Therefore, the happy landlord had soon been successful in purchasing what ever was needed, and then all personnel was busily preparing for the big day.
A few evenings in advance, though, Flick personally entered the public house in order keep himself informed about the progress of the arrangements for the upcoming event. Eagerly the landlord served him a glass of liquor he knew Flick was very fond of. In his eagerness, though, the servile innkeeper wasn’t aware that the liquor should be served iced. Flick sipped, immediately put the glass down and said curtly: “There won’t be a party.”
At once, everyone was lamenting and crying, and almost went postal, helplessly trying to change the multimillionaire’s mind.
Only one waitress kept her balance, took hold of the warm liquor bottle, placed it, and a fresh glass, in a freezer and waited for a few minutes. Then she brought the tarnished bottle and the clouded glass back to the table, poured him another glass of liquor and said to Flick: “Please let me apologize, sir. Accidentally, you must have been served the wrong bottle.”
Flick took another sip, then drained the glass with a smile and said just as curtly: “There will be a party.”
At the festive event the young waitress was on duty again. And when, during that evening, she passed a certain table with a glass of red wine she was about to serve, one of the primed guests smacked her on her shapely bottom. The woman instantly chucked the wine in his face and continued working, ignoring this man from now on.
After some time, when the young waitress had already considered this matter closed, someone stopped her by grabbing her wrist. She whirled around and realised that Flick himself was holding her.
“You are going to sit down now”, he ordered. “And I will serve you for a change. What would you like?”
And there was no protest; she had to agree being served a cup of coffee by the multimillionaire. He then sat next to her and watched her enjoy the hot drink.
“You see”, he said with another smile. “I always notice who actually does the work. And I believe everyone pays the price. I guess this hunter comrade of mine has already learned that!”
A few evenings in advance, though, Flick personally entered the public house in order keep himself informed about the progress of the arrangements for the upcoming event. Eagerly the landlord served him a glass of liquor he knew Flick was very fond of. In his eagerness, though, the servile innkeeper wasn’t aware that the liquor should be served iced. Flick sipped, immediately put the glass down and said curtly: “There won’t be a party.”
At once, everyone was lamenting and crying, and almost went postal, helplessly trying to change the multimillionaire’s mind.
Only one waitress kept her balance, took hold of the warm liquor bottle, placed it, and a fresh glass, in a freezer and waited for a few minutes. Then she brought the tarnished bottle and the clouded glass back to the table, poured him another glass of liquor and said to Flick: “Please let me apologize, sir. Accidentally, you must have been served the wrong bottle.”
Flick took another sip, then drained the glass with a smile and said just as curtly: “There will be a party.”
At the festive event the young waitress was on duty again. And when, during that evening, she passed a certain table with a glass of red wine she was about to serve, one of the primed guests smacked her on her shapely bottom. The woman instantly chucked the wine in his face and continued working, ignoring this man from now on.
After some time, when the young waitress had already considered this matter closed, someone stopped her by grabbing her wrist. She whirled around and realised that Flick himself was holding her.
“You are going to sit down now”, he ordered. “And I will serve you for a change. What would you like?”
And there was no protest; she had to agree being served a cup of coffee by the multimillionaire. He then sat next to her and watched her enjoy the hot drink.
“You see”, he said with another smile. “I always notice who actually does the work. And I believe everyone pays the price. I guess this hunter comrade of mine has already learned that!”
Wednesday, August 12. 2009
Ein Taschenbuchheld, weitläufig wiedererzählt
Ruby hatte alles. Sie flog ihre Maschine, wann immer man sie mietete, sie flog auch zu ihrer eigenen Erbauung, und sie war verlobt. Sie war die Königin der Lüfte und die des Landes. Ihr Verlobter, Hamish, wusste das ganz genau, und er erzählte es jedem. Sie würden heiraten so schnell es ging, und Jack wäre Trauzeuge.
Nur hatte Jack nie jemandem erzählt, was sein Ziele waren. Wer würde geglaubt haben, dass ein hartgesottener Fuhrknecht wie er ein verfluchter Romanautor wäre? Lebte er nicht in seinem Brummi mit niemand anderem als seinem Hund Lance? Und jetzt hatte er doch glatt eine Liebesgeschichte bei einem Verleger in Sidney eingereicht, kannte also sein Geschäft, und so.
Ruby musste ihn nach Sidney begleiten, weil er doch ihren Namen fürs Titelblatt verwendet hatte. Und nicht darauf vorbereitet war, in der Öffentlichkeit zu stehen. Natürlich war Ruby wahnsinnig wütend, dass sie die berühmte Neuentdeckung sein sollte. Aber als dann die Verleger versprachen, alle Kosten für ihre Hochzeit zu übernehmen -?
Dann wiederum hatte Jack den Roman über ein Pärchen geschrieben, eine Dame und ihren Brian, und der sollte sterben. Ruby wollte nicht, dass Brian starb, und sie erzählte Jack das, als ob er jetzt noch irgendwas dran ändern könnte. War die weibliche Heldin nach ihr gestaltet? War es wirklich so einfach? Klischees gehörten geradezu zu dieser Art von Literatur, hatte Jack ihr erklärt. Aber im Leben?
Wie auch immer, sie musste sobald wie möglich nach Hause zurückkehren, bevor der Augenblick einer beschwipsten Nacht in jener australischen Großstadt Auswirkungen auf ihre Zukunftspläne haben würde. Schließlich war es an ihr, sich mit Hamish auf seinem lange schon versprochenen Ackerland niederzulassen. Und Jack würde natürlich bei seiner Verlegerin unterkommen, die ebenso gesittet wie geistreich war. Da gehörte er hin, dachte Ruby, denn sie konnte ja nicht wissen, dass Jack sich nur zu einem bestimmten Preis verkaufen würde. Er trat in die Öffentlichkeit, nachdem seine Verlegerin ihm zugesagt hatte, das alles rein geschäftlich bleiben würde. Lieber wollte er zu seinem Brummi und Lance zurückkehren, als eine Liebe zu wählen, die er nicht leben konnte.
Aber dann hatte Lance versehentlich verursacht, dass Ruby mit ihrer Maschine eine Bruchlandung hinlegte und sich dabei den Fuß verstauchte, und Jack hatte gewagt, mit einer anderen Maschine zu ihr zu fliegen, obwohl er Fliegen so sehr hasste. Und zwar gerade nachdem Hamish die Sache mit der fehlenden Chemie aufgefallen war, weshalb er ohne sie zu seinem Land aufbrach. Und dann hatte Ruby erkannt, trotz oder wegen jener beschwipsten Nacht, dass Jack der eine war, auf den es ankam.
Und schließlich hatte Jack ihr die Dinge gesagt, die er ihr wohl nie gesagt haben würde, hätte Hamish nicht gesagt, dass es nicht Jacks Schuld war und auch nicht ihre, sondern Schicksal. Und so ist das eben manchmal, dass das Leben sich beeilt und sich halsüberkopf in ein Happy End stürzt wie in einem Taschenbuch, das du an einer Raststätte kaufen könntest. Im Film.
Nur hatte Jack nie jemandem erzählt, was sein Ziele waren. Wer würde geglaubt haben, dass ein hartgesottener Fuhrknecht wie er ein verfluchter Romanautor wäre? Lebte er nicht in seinem Brummi mit niemand anderem als seinem Hund Lance? Und jetzt hatte er doch glatt eine Liebesgeschichte bei einem Verleger in Sidney eingereicht, kannte also sein Geschäft, und so.
Ruby musste ihn nach Sidney begleiten, weil er doch ihren Namen fürs Titelblatt verwendet hatte. Und nicht darauf vorbereitet war, in der Öffentlichkeit zu stehen. Natürlich war Ruby wahnsinnig wütend, dass sie die berühmte Neuentdeckung sein sollte. Aber als dann die Verleger versprachen, alle Kosten für ihre Hochzeit zu übernehmen -?
Dann wiederum hatte Jack den Roman über ein Pärchen geschrieben, eine Dame und ihren Brian, und der sollte sterben. Ruby wollte nicht, dass Brian starb, und sie erzählte Jack das, als ob er jetzt noch irgendwas dran ändern könnte. War die weibliche Heldin nach ihr gestaltet? War es wirklich so einfach? Klischees gehörten geradezu zu dieser Art von Literatur, hatte Jack ihr erklärt. Aber im Leben?
Wie auch immer, sie musste sobald wie möglich nach Hause zurückkehren, bevor der Augenblick einer beschwipsten Nacht in jener australischen Großstadt Auswirkungen auf ihre Zukunftspläne haben würde. Schließlich war es an ihr, sich mit Hamish auf seinem lange schon versprochenen Ackerland niederzulassen. Und Jack würde natürlich bei seiner Verlegerin unterkommen, die ebenso gesittet wie geistreich war. Da gehörte er hin, dachte Ruby, denn sie konnte ja nicht wissen, dass Jack sich nur zu einem bestimmten Preis verkaufen würde. Er trat in die Öffentlichkeit, nachdem seine Verlegerin ihm zugesagt hatte, das alles rein geschäftlich bleiben würde. Lieber wollte er zu seinem Brummi und Lance zurückkehren, als eine Liebe zu wählen, die er nicht leben konnte.
Aber dann hatte Lance versehentlich verursacht, dass Ruby mit ihrer Maschine eine Bruchlandung hinlegte und sich dabei den Fuß verstauchte, und Jack hatte gewagt, mit einer anderen Maschine zu ihr zu fliegen, obwohl er Fliegen so sehr hasste. Und zwar gerade nachdem Hamish die Sache mit der fehlenden Chemie aufgefallen war, weshalb er ohne sie zu seinem Land aufbrach. Und dann hatte Ruby erkannt, trotz oder wegen jener beschwipsten Nacht, dass Jack der eine war, auf den es ankam.
Und schließlich hatte Jack ihr die Dinge gesagt, die er ihr wohl nie gesagt haben würde, hätte Hamish nicht gesagt, dass es nicht Jacks Schuld war und auch nicht ihre, sondern Schicksal. Und so ist das eben manchmal, dass das Leben sich beeilt und sich halsüberkopf in ein Happy End stürzt wie in einem Taschenbuch, das du an einer Raststätte kaufen könntest. Im Film.
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