Hedgehogs in the Fog, Part V

This story was published as a part of the Only fools die of heartbreak collection by Equus Press.

We were quiet a few seconds, then Dee said, “My sister and her two roommates – you should see their apartment. It’s very nice and clean. They’ve got new carpets. It looks great.”
“Yes, I’m sure it’s very impressive.”
“Oh, come on. Why can’t you say anything nice? Everything I say, you just make fun of it.”
“I do not.”
“You do! You have nothing nice to say about anyone – ever!”
“That’s not true at all. What I’m supposed to do – say what amazing heroes they are for having a clean apartment? Should I get all happy, tell you how thrilled I am? Call them up and congratulate them? You must be kidding. You must think I’ve thrown away my mind. I haven’t – not yet.”
“Your brother and Dylan lived in pure filth! Karen and Ken, too! I was afraid of opening their refrigerator without getting hepatitis!”
“Yeah, so? You didn’t get it. Havel had a dirty house. It was fucking filthy. Bottles and newspapers and shoes and cigarette butts and shit everywhere. I’ve seen the pictures. Vaclav Havel. So what?”
“That’s not the point! You have to make fun of everybody, all the time! All you care about is hearing how great you are!”
“Well, you never say it. . . .”
She sat there, crying.

German On Naked Midnight Rampage In Cambodia
PHNOM PENH – A naked rampage by a German national through the Cambodian capital, which featured two escapes from hospital and a midnight visit to the Phnom Penh temple, ended when he was captured and handed over to his embassy, police said Sunday.
District police chief Wun Bun Hay said a 25-year-old man identified as Adolf Histtine began his rampage on Saturday night after he was found sleeping in front of a local supermarket and taken to a hospital by a concerned local.
“He woke up, took his clothes off and ran out of the hospital screaming. We brought him back but he escaped again and we found him still naked at the Wat Phnom temple trying to join a troupe of local monkeys, so the hospital called the German embassy,” Bun Hay said.

How nice it had been down at Stankov Lake. Jumping in the water with the boys, watching the 16- and 17-year old girls running around topless. The girls drinking beer and talking to guys on mopeds. Grasshoppers leaping, cowbells tinkling. A pervasive aroma of cherry blossoms and grass, wood fires and burning meat, warm wet pussy . . . but so many of these Czechs so goddamn fat, trudging around like arthritic buffalo, stooping to wipe lotion on each other, gigantic marbled thighs trembling. . . .

Well, it was marvelous. We biked all day every day, a stop at every pub or restaurant for a beer and a hot dog, an ice cream for the boys. . . . Boys asleep and then out with Dee to a fish restaurant for french fries and beer. Back to the camp – banging her at some length in the sweaty single bed. Boys asleep in the bunk next door.

Passing out. Then suddenly awake, in pain, stumbling out of the cabin nude, taking a piss on the side of the cabin – splashing loudly in the weeds amidst the snoring in the nearby tents. . . . The clear stream hanging in the air like a crystal rope, the stars and the moon shining against the lake. . . . going back in and falling immediately to sleep. . . .

No matter what you’ve already got, you are still looking for something else. . . . It helps to learn how to write after fucking. No more of this sitting around numb, searching for a bottle of wine, smoking another couple cigarettes, hunting around fruitlessly for Figure 8, really, really needing to hear that. . . . There is no Fourth Way, I have given up. There is only survival now, a hope to endure. . . .

They are strapping saddles on to the backs of the entire world. They always have been. The loudest screamers, the ones jumping up to tell everyone what to do, are always the worst nazi fags. . . . They will succeed, mostly, before they inevitably hang themselves. The only hope is they do not hang us first, or pop us into camps.

What do they really want? – To make us slaves – then kill us off prematurely. Capitalism taken to its logical extension. Happened before – can and will happen again. The permanent state of human beings. Them and us. Me and you. Now is another iron time – and they are using iron methods. Nothing stops them. The truth is, they really are “us.” Once you find the profit in cruelty, in coercion – and some always will, and the profits are not bad – you can kiss it off. . . .

Thursday night Dee went out again. Over to “talk to her sister.” She came back about 11:45. We argued for a while. I had coffee, then went out about one to get beer at the Esso station. They claim to be open 24 hours, but a sign in the glass said closed till 1:30 for “technical reasons.” Well, who could complain – the Czechs do have their technical reasons.The pumps were swarming with taxi drivers and cops – a bullshit jack-off crew if there ever was one, a real downer. One-thirty came and went and the doors did not open. I looped around, decided to make the 15-minute walk to the Vietnamese non-stop. I was wearing pajama bottoms, a purple and gray-striped shirt I’d had on for two days, dirty sports coat, old sneakers. I got eight and came back. I played the music, did the typing.
It was almost five-thirty. I was on the last beer, but not quite ready. Maybe a bar’s open, I thought. I had about 53 crowns in my pocket. I went out to a herna-bar place around the corner that claims to be 24 hours. Guy was standing at the doorway, smoking. Sorry. Closed for technical reasons, he seemed to say. Well – hell!

I looped around. Everything still closed. It had started raining, I was walking around in my pajamas in the rain, chasing down one last beer or four. I was thirstier than ever. The feeling was that I would drink until I was done drinking. I found myself back on the Esso station street. I hiked down there. Yes, they were open. I got three more frosties. I popped one in the store and had a look at the magazines. It was amazing, I could understand, my Czech was really starting to get good.


I came in to the apartment, put on the music. The guitar line broke through, almost painful in its beauty. Everything slid into place at last. I was elated, exhausted. I drained the last beer, it was really tasting good, and went out for a smoke. The morning people were out, wired, insane, carrying briefcases, revving their cars, going off somewhere. It was the full day now, bright but still raining. I leaned against the wall, huffing the yummy smoke. Some of the freaks looked at me, as if it was I who was fucked up. But it was all right, it felt good – I supported them. We need societal control, I did not want them running amuck – I did not worry.

A few days later, Dee gave me some rorshach tests. According to her analysis, I am a paranoid with repressed agressive tendencies, and insecure about my sexuality. On the other hand, I have an “intellectual approach to problem solving” and a “leaning toward creativity.”

The “paranoid” and “aggressive” and “sexually insecure” rulings apparently come from my flipping and turning the cards from their “given” positions, and from my focusing on empty spaces rather than the obvious blotchings. DO IT AS WE SAY YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO OR WE’LL CALL YOU PARANOID AND AGGRESSIVE AND SEXUALLY INSECURE. On what they call the “father” card I identified “a big-footed monster with a rat’s head.” On the “mother” card I identified an empty space as “like a jellyfish,” ignoring the blotchings entirely.

published: 13. 5. 2013

Datum publikace:
13. 5. 2013
Autor článku:
Thor Garcia