It was incredible how this very fussed SF-folk with his cameras. It looked at certain moments as though everyone wants every picture taken in this pub, which had in the events at a late hour shift from the community center. If I only knew how she was told. I can only on the impossible veneer of the bar, and remind the 1860iger logo on the wall. I saw was careful not to appear on any of the photos that have been shot so overzealous. I also was masked appeared on the Garching-Con 2007, and very classic, with a false beard. The reason was simple: I had forfeited me with some pulp fiction greats by trolls on the Internet. They knew my face. Incognito I felt safer. Immediately I made a few faces of known SF writers find. Recognize, without being recognized - I enjoyed this I was familiar not only their faces, I knew their age, their shoe sizes, and knew what hobbies they had. Blessed be the Internet. The hobby was Achim Mehnert such as beer, as I knew from there. In a second oblique pride he pulled in this pub actually both arms high in one hand and the beer bottle in the other a funny, red passport and said. "Oech am villages Gröschte"
I saw many. The lush Uschi and the nimble, seriously, I saw the devilish Leo and the sharp ... but wait. I get better at the core of what I have to report. So I was sitting at the bar, still unknown, glad that no one my false beard Castro identified as such and sucked on my Erbacher. As a figure stood next to me, which seemed familiar, but is not. The man was suffering from obesity, like many in this pub and I was just about to make me about a possible link between body volume and sci-fi pulp fiction mind when he spoke to me. I studied him closely.
He liked to be 40, had a puffy face and wore glasses thick as Coke bottles. He was a pale appearance. What he told me then, after he had been outed as a Perry-Rhodan-Fan from the Tyrol, was told, more colorful. He After stating that the story would last a little longer, I should be right there, I said, this will no-brainer just snapped and bawled, and he began after he had washed the beer foam from your mouth, do the following:
--- Klaus was my neighbor in the 4th Bank Class of AHS. We had to talk about in abundance, also because I was Perry Rhodan-Fan, and Klaus' older brother, too. The time was, however, already 30 and former PR fan lying on the attic of the family's house, well preserved in old boxes, 500 volumes of the first edition.
I was over the moon when I told them Klaus.
"what-and he reads them anymore?"
"No, he's beyond."
"I do not understand. And what about you? "
" I was never interested Rhodan. "
" And lie there-just like that. 500 books? "
" There are actually almost 600 Shall I bring what times? "
" Wow, yes. I'm currently 304th Band Attack on Old-Man "
" I'll bring you to the next 50. "
" No - That would be too much. Because I would overeat. "
" Then 20th 300 to 320 "
One can imagine how drunk I read in the next few weeks was. My mother looked at me several times and said, "Come down at last from the galaxy." But I do not come down. I also had
in that time my first actual intoxication. Bierräusche. I drank. Klaus, for example.
One day he called me.
"You know I'm at the station, and we are waiting for the connecting train. Do you have time for a beer? "
" More and why 'we'? "
" I am not alone. Hans is there. "
" Who is John? "
"A friend."
They sat in the station restaurant. Hans was 40, sat in a wheelchair and had neither arms nor legs complete. His arms reached up to the elbows and ended in stumps, and ended his legs above his knees. He wore short pants. The stumps sticking out of the seat.
The two had half a beer in front of him, I ordered one too. As we drank, Hans took his glass into the stumps, pushed and drank.
It turned out that the two came from a football game in Innsbruck. Hans Klaus had moved into the stadium. And back to the station.
Hans painted. In oil. The brush, he took it into his mouth.
"And how do you know you?" I asked.
"We are neighbors," said Hans, and beckoned the waitress.
"A round," he said.
I wanted to protest, but Klaus said, "That's fine."
What can I say? It was a good afternoon. One topic led to another, the conversation was lively.
had almost missed the two their last train. On the town's railway station there was still no elevators and we had to Hans and his wheelchair, down the underpass, and then take the platform up. Finally, it was necessary to lift him through the car door.
I waved goodbye to the two. Some
Years later I read of Hans in the newspaper. He had prevailed on the international art market with the large-scale oil paintings showed scenes from soap operas: Alf, Little House On The Prairie.
Sometime in late summer 1988, I received a call-in after years-Klaus, and said that he was making a three-day trip to Berlin, Hans would have invited him and me.
"what he remembers me?"
"Yes. He has our conversation in the station restaurant still fresh in memory. "
" But that was six years ago. "
" So what? Will you be there? "
" I'm a little short. "
" We have been invited. "
"Three Days in Berlin, you say?"
"Yes."
"I'm with you."
Hans, who now simply called Carus, lived in the Plaza. We had rented a room in a nearby, slightly less luxurious hotel. l
Klaus and I were sitting there at breakfast and discussed the day.
"He wakes up early in the afternoon. There is no point when we come before, "said Klaus.
"And he lives in the Präsidentensuit?
" Something like that. "
" he paints still exist? "
" Rarely. "
" Why? "
" Well, but he tells you at the best for yourself. "
We drove around a bit in the inner city, and enjoyed the sunny day. 17h against Klaus went into a phone booth.
"He is now an exception in the studio," Klaus said on the way to the subway.
"He paints, then," I noted.
"do not know. But you know the ESKIMAUS?
"The Mouse from the North Pole? I know him. The largest children's book hit in years. "
" John has invented it. Warner has just called and bought the film rights. "
" He told you on the phone? "
" Yes. Exactly. Oh, yes, and we should bring two bottles of vodka. "
The Studio was in an abandoned building in Kreuzberg. A material elevator took us to the top floor. When we got out of the cage, a bright loft stretched before us, extending from one end of the building to another. A long window front, made of thick, greenish glass and skylights let enough light to enter the studio work. Under a skylight were some large easels. Behind it was heard Frauenkichern.
stood in a corner sofas and a table with bottles passed. Somewhere else I saw a huge double bed. On smooth stone floor lay-like candy-original packaged condoms scattered. An extraordinary beautiful young woman in high heels, black Fishnet stockings and a tight maid costume, looked out from behind an easel. She wore a cute little bonnet very accurately on the nut-brown hair.
"There are two types, Effendi," she said in Berlin intonation. "What you say, plasters?" It was the voice of pig Huber, aka Carus been. I had recognized her.
"Two types are there, Effendi. The fat looks dangerous. He is bald and two bottles of vodka in his hand. "
" two bottles of vodka? "
" Yes. "
" Then there are my friends. "
We nodded the" maid of ", and turned the easel.
I was shocked.
The blood spatter on his face turned out but as a color, but Hans looked so scary in all: pale and haggard. The tuft of hair on his head was gray. He could not yet be forty, and had aged before his time.
Des notwithstanding, he was quite cheerful. He sat high up, so we had to look up to something, height-adjustable in a wheelchair. A large brush was stuck between his teeth. One of his stumps led to a grappling hook. He was wearing shorts and a T-shirt with the likeness of Mickey Mouse.
"Klaus, Karl. Welcome. I have just become richer by two million marks. Money is not Hollywood. There are chairs. Advances them over. I'm almost done here. "
He was to meet us in greeting the grappling hook. We shook him, he was rusty.
"Cleaning lady! Range of three! "Called Hans in the next moment.
The agency model, because at such an act had it stöckelte past us, grabbed one of lying on a table color palettes, and Hans held before his face.
not "the, you cow. Number three. "
" Sorry, Effendi. "
you tried it with another. This time Hans was satisfied. He fixed bit on the brush and pushed him deep into a bright green. The object of the girl who was barely older than 18 seemed to be to assist the famous painter, and to be abusing it. Carus approached the canvas on which, already visible shone, a fat man's face. He struck with his grappling hook to a switch in the back of the wheelchair. The hissing went up a notch higher, like a Friseursessel.Carus face approached the canvas, and furiously punched the Pinsel.Wir the creative process seen for a while before Carus charming without being asked Assistant to the seat arrangement disappeared, and brought two chairs. I would hasten toward her but she shook her head. It balances the chair with great ease. The woman was not only a feast for the eyes-top shape, but the bargain. We took court, and watched Carus. That he treated the model was quite harsh, probably the game. She let the commands and insults like, because it was paid for it. As Carus slipped after a wild stroke of the brush in red from his mouth, and the model stooped to pick it up, he said, "Let it be, plasters. That's enough for today. People! Let's sit down! Now we want to make it. He rode the chair down, and then he buzzed by e-motor in the seating area. We sat and drank. Carus allowed himself a nose-coke, offered us one, and Cindy, that was the model that was twice sent to vodka. We had quite an in tea, as Carus ordered: "Put down on the bed, plaster. "We wanted to jump up to help Cindy, but she waved, smiling. Sure. Carus was emaciated, he was missing limbs and he was easy. Cindy picked it up without much trouble from the wheelchair and put him on the bed. It wobbled. But more than the bed astonished me Cindy: her leg and arm muscles had emerged clearly as if they had umlogiert their Lord. Certainly they regularly visited a health center could not be otherwise. The body of this woman is like a successful design piece, I thought this would be any person with a sense of beauty not mind at home.
Carus was lying on the bed, while Cindy was straddling him. Flink she took off her heels and threw them out of hand.
"Should we just wait outside?" Began Klaus, and pointed to the material hoist. But Carus waved. "Let's not disturb you. Drink something. Take snow. "
was a slow dawn. Cindy was still upright, and Carus worked with her foot. The two were like ghosts. Love your game was not very loud, so I could talk to Klaus.
After a few minutes began to call Carus!
"Yes, yes. Mach's me. Make me with your hammer toes! Oh, yes, imitate me with your hammer toes! "
I risked a glance. Whether Cindy actually had hammer toes, I could not To detect but if so, it was probably this stigma that it denied the right path to the Super Model. Instead, they had landed at an escort agency. In the twilight I saw Carus member. This term was not only the only intact his body, but also extremely large. Klaus and I continued our conversation had hardly shouted as Carus, "Take it, take it."
Cindy knelt over him, Carus disappeared best piece in her mouth. "Do not swallow, not even swallow!"
croaked Carus. He came.
"Have you?" Asked Carus.
Cindy nodded with full cheeks.
"to the big screen. At the plump Face, "he ordered.
Cindy ran to the screen and disappeared behind it, and you heard them spit. Hans Huber pig, aka Carus painted apparently also using fresh ejaculate.
This was evident when Cindy came running back, Carus picked her up, sat in a wheelchair and shoved it in double time to the easels.
"The triple-brush! Quickly, the three-brush! "I heard you call him. And: "This is the quad, you cow."
"I beg your pardon, Effendi."
A phone rang somewhere in the depths of the loft. Cindy disappeared into the twilight, and cried from the other side. "For you, Effendi."
"Who is it?"
"Lubbe."
"Lubbe I can."
"He wants to warn you, perhaps, Effendi."
Not now. I am a creative frenzy. "
" Maybe it is again a raid. "
" nonsense. Raid was only last week "
I asked." Lubbe? Lee Lubbe the author? "
" Yes. He may Carus, "said Cindy, who was clearly smarter than them in their aussah.Ich trivializing Sexkostüm remembered. Lee H. Lubbe was published ten years ago, like a comet in the literary sky. The criticism had made himself with enthusiasm into the shirt. had a well-known publishing to the then 17 year old accepted and paid him for all further works half a million marks in advance.
Cindy was not yet over:
"It could also be the anarchists, Effendi," said Cindy points out.
"nonsense, the only talk! Let me now. "
" What anarchists? "I asked.
Cindy said.
"Carus write threatening letters."
"Why?"
"They say he a sexist, and Fascist glorifier. Was"
"Why?" Klaus said, "because he paints John Boy Walton in oil?" With a
sudden jolt was the material hoist in motion.
"should not fool the bolt, Effendi?" Asked Cindy.
"No, why?" Carus pressed between the teeth. The brush was dancing. The elevator came up again and stopped. You could hear someone cursing, and then a boy-like, but on the spirit interpretive voice, loudly asking, "Can you not even specify a different patent, Carus? This elevator is the last. "
A young man not yet thirty years approached hobbled. He was dressed as he would be specified by the Camparitrinken in Cuba: white shoes, white linen suit and Panama hat. From the side pocket of his jacket rose a flask.
"I know from a reliable source Carus, "he exclaimed from afar.
"They want to set fire to the shack you over the head."
Cindy said: "I've always said Effendi. We should move away from this area. "
Carus spit out the brush he had just taken first in the mouth.
"You crazy! Both! Yes, yes, you too, Lubbe. The eternal grass makes you paranoid. So now got hers. The inspiration is gone. "
Carus lowered his wheelchair, drove to the seating arrangement, and while we followed him, he had his teeth already settled the closure of the vodka bottle, and poured himself. Lubbe greeted us running out and we were in loose order space. The bottle went round, the conversation turned to art, and soon to write specific.
"he writes. Science-Fiction, "said Klaus, who was about to say something nice about me."
bored "Oh, yeah?" Lee Harvey Lubbe bored in the nose.
"I read her book. LAUSY "I tried to steer the topic back to Lubbe. Lubbe I was not listening. However, I said, "It's good."
Lubbe spat on the ground.
"Why did they actually renamed kingdom of fire in Lee Harvey Lubbe," I asked.
"Why? Now, who has a bit of dew from history, which should be obvious. "
Klaus and I suspected something, but before it went silent.
Lubbe put his brow and said: "The Nazis burned Lubbe, which burned Amy Lee Harvey. Both very young victims. And now you can guess. Who burned me? "
" ... The German literary ... ", I ventured to guess.
Lubbe nodded with meaning. I thought of my measly unemployment benefits, and replied: ". But you have never had any money problems, Lubbe"
Lee Lubbe laughed bitterly. Carus, meanwhile, had gone back to his easel, and put the brush back in the mouth. We joined him. He painted gasping. His lips were dripping. The meter-high face on the canvas looked more and more actually-who? A fat man Cindy seemed to have had a similar thought. "Effendi?" Cindy said with lowered lashes art. Say, House Maid. "" May I ask a question, Effendi? "Can" you ", Hans squeezed out from between his teeth." Who's the fat man, Effendi? "" John Goodman. "" I do not know, "escaped it Klaus. Hans was quite Carus, when, taking the brush between his stumps, said: "But I know him. Comes again it big. Despite its 160 pounds! What I say: for this reason. In Hollywood, I saw it was Tom Cruise was finished. With one hand. "
" Now I know what bothers me, "called Lubbe. "There are steps on the roof." "What?" Said Cindy anxious. We listened. Nothing. Carus head jerked back and forth in front of the screen. Out of his mouth dripping saliva. He was somewhere else. Lubbe might have been mistaken. Who should also stamp around on the roof? After a while Cindy and I again took place. Klaus came back on the science-fiction to speak, and eventually dropped the word, the fall in Germany must in this context: Perry Rhodan. This Lubbe said: Yes. At 10 I also plugged my nose plays in these magazines. But then I remembered Mark Brandis in his hands. Brandis Rhodan has dethroned. At 12, I read Nietzsche, Dostoevsky and Hesse. That's it then with the science-fiction. "
I wanted to not be accepted, and led by Stanislaw Lem, Aldous Huxley and Philip K. Dick into the field. I broke a lance for the SF genre. Lubbe heard the little. He was, as far as the write clearly on another, you can tell ordained, level. As a 17 year old he had been solemnly spent there: critics, editors and colleagues. But LAUSY had proved to be a flash in the pan. For a decade, Lubbe had produced nothing of importance. And what I know at that time could not, and has now confirmed: now since the release of LAUSY past 30 years, and Lubbe is still silent. Lubbe crackled Lee Joint. Shit aroma spread through the loft. He offered us the bag, we said no, and things got scary.
"Hey, are there footsteps on the roof," said Klaus, and tilted his head.
Lubbe stood up and sniffed: "I hear no more steps, but you smell anything?"
We sniffed.
"Smells like burnt spaghetti," noted Cindy.
police sirens were heard.
"The fire service is not that," said Lubbe, limped to the material lift, and disappeared behind it. There had to find a toilet, for rushing a rinse. I could imagine what he had thrown down the toilet. The police siren stopped abruptly.
"There are actually steps on the roof! Da! "I pointed to one of the skylights. Two masked faces were there for one second visible.
"The anarchists, Effendi!" Yelled Cindy. Lubbe Lee smiled.
"I've said yes, but Hans will not believe me. The anarchists are ruthless. They are poor, they are dirty, they are radical. to commit crime is their only luxury. Carus: you flush your drugs down the toilet even better "
He pointed to the material a lift.. The set itself in motion. Carus heard nothing, he was absorbed in his Goodman in oil.
"Carus! They know no mercy. You have enemies in the executive branch. Carus damn! "
Lubbe was furious. He limped to his artist friend, and snatched the brush from his mouth. He had to take this very far up, as Carus floated, by virtue of his special wheelchair, currently playing very high up.
Lubbe limped to the elevator and went up the bar. Not a second too soon, because the next moment he stopped, and it was shaken violently at the door. Through the disguise of milky plastic grid saw two figures with distinctive caps.
"Open up. Police! "
Carus said.
"licks me."
"Lord, pork Huber. Open it. Are they the case is not worse than is. "
" Worse? "Carus said, laughing bitterly. "Is that a bad joke," was again shaken, and now the police men of the chance came to help: the old iron bars came off and fell clattering on the stone floor. The door was opened. The police looked stunned for a second, then walked into the loft. They recorded our data, and sniffed around. At one point, "said the younger one:" Here's the smell of grass. "
" nonsense. Because who has burned noodles, Stirner, "said the elder.
had insulted Carus Meanwhile, the two police officers.
"The fact that they are terminally ill, are not give them the right to insult officials! I have to arrest them anyway, "blurted the elders of the collar. Klaus
I threw a questioning glance. He nodded sadly, and whispered. "Lung cancer"
Now I understand why Hans Huber pig alias Carus looked so old, and was so bitter. His life was irrevocably depleted. And while it did, he drank it in last, to the fullest. But not everyone liked this, he had enemies not only among the mad-stone-throwing, no, even in high places. The reluctant constable himself there to arrest a terminally ill, severely disabled people, could see. The young policeman
rattling the handcuffs.
The elder stared at him: "Can you tell me what they do with the handcuffs, Mr Stirner"
Embarrassed, he put it away, and stood behind the wheelchair.
"but you get Hans away?" Said Lubbe.
The elder looked him: "Mr. Lubbe. We need to capture Mr. Huber pig finally fingerprinted. The mayor can no longer protect him. He has to to the post. Since there is no way. "
" The hell they are! "Roared Carus wanted to about his voice, and fell with a blow of his grappling hook to the seat Stirner handles take the chair, but Hans was gas. Angry buzzing on the electric motor, and already he was a few feet away. The young police officer wanted to pursue him, but his colleague held him in the upper arm, "but after thinking it, Stirner. Where to escape he to do? Let him his fun. "
for the two Hans was no more than a helpless insect trapped under a drinking glass.
"No! He moves toward the front glass! He wants to kill himself, "yelled Cindy. Stirner threw himself on his stomach, pulled out his service weapon and took aim.
"on the engine! On the engine! "Said his colleague.
whipped a shot through the loft. All discs seemed to tremble. Metal screeched. The wheelchair began to gyrate and stopped: a meter in front of the windows. Carus head hung down diagonally. Stirner put away his gun, and the two police officers ran to the wheelchair.
"What have you done, Stirner? Have you gone completely mad? I have said nothing of shooting! "
The young officer was dead pale.
"I was shooting at the engine. This must be a rebound have been! A rebound fuck. An ambulance, we need an ambulance! "
He fumbled around on his radio.
While he called an ambulance, and durchgab the nature of the injury, his colleague sniffed again.
"What I smell burnt ... the only way shit! "
Now we saw it all. Thick clouds of smoke came from the material a lift! I ran to the glass front. Down run away I saw some masked men. The anarchists had carried out her threat. Stirner called into his radio:
"... and bring them to the fire department immediately. BROKEN cloth! Yes! This is no joke. The place is on fire! "We started the wheels
pursue. As the fire approached, the loft was already black with smoke. Jumping bed there was none. We were rescued by two fire ladders.
On the way to the ambulance, I turned around one last time: the loft was ablaze! A Mad drowned out the crackle Calls of the firefighters. At the hospital it was found that Klaus and me nothing was missing. Carus, however, was dead
The hotel was paid in advance, and we decided to stay two days in Berlin. We hit on the head, and unable to mourn, on the contrary! As crazy as it sounds, we felt free, happy and happy! A greed to life took us and robbed us of the mind. We are drunk, and showed the East German post at the wall of the finger. We giggled and threw up. We flew out of the hotel. An irritated hotel manager paid us the dough for the last day cash in hand. We carried the money into the brothel. The press was full of the incident. The ball, so did the autopsy, was rebounded to a steel beam of the special wheelchair, entered through the back of the Analtrakt, the intestines had been torn, pierced the diaphragm, to stay put after all the heart. But the strangest thing about the story is: before we then stopped at home, "and with that came the Tyrolean Perry Rhodan fan to the end of his story," I bought at the nearest kiosk a Perry Rhodan book. The tobacconist had only one issue in stock. And now rate, which band was that? "Concluded the Tyrolean his story at the bar and looked at me .---
" Perry Rhodan 304? Title: Attack on Old-Man "
" Exactly, "said the Tyrol, and pushed his glasses slipped back in the nose. Attack on Old-Man The cover reminds of a huge Moorish-im-shirt, round 24 vanilla wafers, but what is a real Perry Rhodan-Fan provides over such things. "
" That would be the 5th have been supporting, "I concluded.
. "Exact"
I wanted to ask something, but the Tyrolean turned suddenly and shouted: "There is the Vlcek,"
"Where?"
"The little back there. With the bandana around his head. Finally. Now I get my autograph, "
next to me shouted someone." Oech'm Gröschte "
" Hey! there is also Mehnert, "I cried after the Tyrol. It was well meant. I thought, if he is already behind her autographed by authors. But he said:
"Oh, who with his Kölsch-Pass! The not interest me. Vlcek, but! He's a legend! "
He disappeared into the crowd, which was now surrounded by a dense haze of blue bell, in the secret supernovae shines-the flashes of the cameras! Whether the Tyrolean got his autograph, I do not know because I saw myself suddenly in a conversation with the lush Uschi entangled that the boundary to flirt more time worrying exceeded. Unfortunately, I went to the toilet when I resigned once, from the Castro beard and fell me in the urinal. My incognito was not restored. Not with a smelling of piss revolutionary beard! So I took my heavy heart, in French - through the toilet window, and swayed to the central station.
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