Scarves - PART I
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
First Wrap
This has to be told, and I don’t know when I will get the opportunity again, if ever. Incredibly exhausted. Sleep is something that I cannot afford right now. I’ve added an extra scoop of ground coffee to the pot. It has the taste and consistency of 99-cent Salisbury steak gravy, but at least it will keep me alert. And most of all that is what I need to be. Let Turtle sleep, keep her safe tonight, she’ll be busy when she wakes. Tonight as for the past week, I keep my silent vigil watching the windows. Waiting for them. For they will come.
When we came to our new home, we noticed worlds of differences, most we accepted and easily understood. Then there was the oddities that made us confused, bewildered and just down right awed. One of the simplest curiosities was the wearing of scarves. Tightly wrapped around the wearers’ necks, even when the temperature was 80 to 90 degrees. We shrugged our shoulders, chalking it up to a fashion fad much like wearing underwear outside your pants, and thought nothing more of it.
After we began to comprehend the language, we made friends who understood the ways of our host. When there was a comfortable familiarity, we asked this question and many others. To our amusement we found the truth. The sporting of scarves was an old frau’s cure to alleviate a sore throat. We laughed and joked about this asking if it was also a good idea to wear a girdle to ease indigestion or to wear a knitted cap to treat migraines. A few weeks later, I discovered that this explanation was a ruse to hide a more elaborate, hideous reality. A truth that no one wanted to speak of, but I must.
Vampires.
I first became aware of the beasts about two weeks ago, even though I did not know it at the time. I was wandering back from the pubs late at night when I stepped into a big pile of droppings. After exclaiming what I had treaded in, I looked around to find something to scrap it off. In the gutter I discovered about half a Currywurst and proceed to remove the feces from my shoe using the meat as a stick. When the refused cooked meal touched the dung, the wurst began to move about on its own. Wiggling here and there. Squirming in my hand like a hamster in a tunnel. Without a second thought I threw it back to the gutter only to have it squirm its way to me. The meat was attempting to crawl up my leg and head north. Rather than find out what it wanted I did as most enlightened people would do and stomped the hell out of it. From the shadows, a booming laugh echoed out, then a very calm, pacifying voice spoke, “Es tut mir Leid. Ich schärtze sollte nicht scheißen in der Straße.” That was all I heard, as a sudden gust of wind came running past my neck, taking the voice into the gloom. I never mentioned this to anyone thinking that it was just my imagination and perhaps one too many Hefe-Weißen.
To be continued...
Labels: fiction, scarf, vampires
posted by Don Taylor @ 12:42 PM,
