He was a slender, pretty funny guy, his small family (wife two children, the elderly 4 was not by him), his letter really bad and kept afloat. Marscha, his young wife (nicely), he sometimes sat with moods, which he used to disappear one or two days. If he came back, he spoke very nebulous of Sauftouren with friends. To agree to
his young wife conciliatory, brought He tours constantly with her from such beautiful potted plants. It was very unusual and not exactly cheap below. She noticed that, in contrast to the exotic plants and pot forms the colors of the pots repeated. So, as if her husband is just no imagination: brown, yellow, black, red alternated with each other. Green, or blue were never among them ...
After two years together, had accumulated more than 15 such plants reconciliation. They were, very decorative in the kitchen, in the hallway, the living room and bedroom.
One fine day, met his wife at a bus stop, Elif, a Turkish woman to know. It was, the Turkish woman, from the front of her brutal husband Bosporus fled to Austria to live with relatives here. She would have to leave their child and suffered from it. She made Marscha a compliment to the tot in the stroller, and found the four-year-old on her hand nice. In the further course of the conversation it became clear that Elif stayed for four years in Austria, and was now landed at the Jehovah's Witnesses, especially because they had been disappointed at the outset by a man.
"How?" Marscha asked, curious. She was an atheist, could do with the Jehovah's Witnesses zero, but the thing with the man she was interested.
The two women got on the bus, sat down and told Elif.
"... was disappeared for days. . Two days, three ... reconciliation, however, he always brought a potted plant "
Marscha Elif interrupted:" Hey, that's funny. Mine is also one of those. He sometimes drinks with friends. For days. . And it brings me to reconciliation pot plants "
Elif hesitated and asked," What color are the pots for "
" Strange that you ask just that, "said Marscha.
"Are they also silver, blue, green pots by this?" Asked the Turk.
"no. This is not ... "Marscha was uncomfortable to Mute.
"Only brown, red, yellow and black pots are it's true It? ", hooked by Elif.
march was puff. She could not utter a word, staring her acquaintance, I round to the eyes.
"Marscha!" Said Elif suddenly and grabbed the young woman so quickly to the upper arm, that this was startled.
"Yes? What do you have? "
" What is your husband? "
" Charles. "
" But not Karl Kinaski? ", It came from Elif.
Marscha was shocked.
"Yes. Exactly. Is he ... you know you? "
Marscha was now looking forward to this wonderful coincidence, but are Elif gray facial expression she was suspicious.
A distant idea grew into the young mother on, and already Elif said: "The colors of the pots that you bring your husband, are the colors of hair bitch, fuck it, this bastard. During his Sauftouren. They are young, 15, 16 The he fucks. The old pig. Your husband is a pig. I'm sorry. But this is so. "
Kinaski arrived this evening in a good mood home. From a two-day Sauftour. With a potted plant. The fell with a loud clang from his hands as he looked into the kitchen, his wife, sitting opposite, Elif .
all stared at the shards of pottery bowl that is broken. They were spontaneous shock of neon green.
, and as clear as if she had rehearsed the set for weeks, said Marscha ". Well, that must have been a little punk-bitch"
Then she let out a long, clattering and very sinister laugh.
Bathed in sweat, I woke up from this nightmare. It was early morning. The shrill laughter turned out to be a drill, the positioning on a worker on the wall opposite to his frame. Again ... only for short ... but it had served to wake me up. For weeks they renovated this ugly facade. My pump was racing, I was wiping the sweat from his forehead. Long I stared at the large potted plant next to the bed. In the dim light she looked like a crazy sculpture, the hunger. Then I turned to Marscha.
She slept as quietly as a child and just as clueless.
end
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