Dienstag, 10. März 2015


by Constantin von Hoffmeister

"My barber is a smelly Indian."
-- Winston Churchill

He came in and put the comb on the table. Dinner had been shit and the prospect of boozing all night with Joe Dinario did not cheer him up. He walked over to the old refrigerator, opened it and pulled out a can of Heineken. Opening it, he thought of his cute little sister and burped. He usually smelled like curry and he quickly put his nose under one of his armpits to check if it still smelled like curry there.

Ah, yes! The man with the axe to grind... Waiting outside the barber shop, his knife sharpened and his toolbox ready to disclose its contents to anybody who might be so unlucky as to be walking by. A hammer on the head, a screwdriver in the balls... Blood-stained wifebeater and the can of Heineken getting heavy, he closed his eyes for a second and thought about his time in Vietnam when he was shooting those damn screaming gooks. His gook wife did not put up with him emulating the gook screams at night. She left him and took the poodle with her. The poodle that always shat over the damn couch...

Back when he was growing up in the slums of Bombay, he admired those shiny and green-eyed Bollywood stars. They were heroes who shot the bad guys and then drank a shot of spicy Old Monk and smoked a Wills. He drank a can of Heineken and smoked a bidi. SUPERMAN was on TV in the office of the barber shop. Christopher Reeve before he was a cripple was flying over the skyscrapers of New York, in the film called Metropolis. He did not watch the movie but instead watched the people passing by, an old negress with a shoppingcart filled with trash, a white-haired bum who had soiled himself.

And that was the end of the line. He had saved all his money to buy a wheelchair for his sick mother, but now he was wasting it all on booze and drugs and hookers. The last hooker was neatly packaged in the freezer in the basement of the barber shop. He looked at the toolbox and took a sip of the Heineken. He farted against the wall behind him. It was a wet one. He used his left hand to waft the smell into his nostrils. Sweet...

Like butter running down his legs, his shit in rivulets dripping from his asshole down his legs and into his shoes. He was high, high as a kite. Above the slums of Bombay and above the barber shop he glided, like Superman without the muscles. Sirens calling and horns blaring, the police found his body two days later in an alley filled with dead horses and heads of dead hookers. They never did figure out where the rest of their bodies were located. Burned, sold and shipped? A rusty oil tanker off the coast of Vizakhapatnam does not look suspicious at all.


Joe Dinario came to the board meeting late. He had missed his bus because his damn wife had burned the bacon, so he had to force her to cook more bacon. As usual, he had threatened to beat the bitch. She simply would never listen to his wise words. Ah, women... You can't live with 'em... Joe Dinario opened the door of the office and stepped in.

The board meeting was boring as usual. The Man was talking about facts and figures and everybody attending was pretending to listen attentively. Joe Dinario was past pretending. He felt the knife in his pocket and smiled. Nobody noticed his erection. He felt his stiff cock under the table with his left hand and felt satisfied that the prospect of a good clean kill could still excite him so much. He had not felt that way since 1969 when he stripped at the Washington Mall and got beat up by two drunk cops.

The plane outside glided by noiselessly as the room was soundproof. The plane hit the tower. Nobody except Joe Dinario seemed to notice it. Joe Dinario felt the knife in his pocket and felt excited. One down, one more to go... The Man mentioned the delay in shipping, Chinese bureaucracy and the bribes necessary to get the products into Russia. Joe Dinario yawned and took another sip of his coffee in front of him.

The board meeting was over at two o' clock as planned. Joe Dinario was the last one to exit the office. He followed the Man down a rusty flight of stairs. At the bottom, he turned to the Man and showed him the knife which he had pulled out of his pocket. The Man was delighted when he beheld the shining blade. It felt warm and fuzzy in his stomach.

The sun was setting and Joe Dinario was driving home. His wife was going to pay. She had it coming. Joe Dinario turned off the car radio, opened the car window and listened to the birds chirping as he pulled in the driveway. The trees were in full bloom and some lousy neighborhood dog was barking a couple of blocks down the street.


At two o'clock the world ended. Not with a bang... The world ended on a regular basis. This time it ended while he was at the movies watching CINDERELLA with his beautiful niece. He had to hurry before the end could catch up on him. He made it just in time.

At three o'clock the pizza guy came with the meat lover's pizza. It was tasty and salty and the hot cheese burned the top of his mouth. His niece was not crying anymore. She was neatly packaged in a big box on the kitchen table, ready to be shipped. To where? There.

At four o'clock he boiled his cock. It hurt but he pretended it did not. And then it was the end of the world creeping up on him two hours late.

At five o'clock the neighbor knocked on the door. His wife answered the door and said that her husband was not home. That was a lie.

In the end they met.


The spaceship arrived. Two aliens got out. One of the aliens patted the other alien on the shoulder as if to reassure him of something significant. The aliens were on a search for a suitable specimen. They desperately needed to do some anal probing. They found a man in his mid-sixties. They abducted him and performed anal probes on him in their flying saucer. The aliens were green not grey. One of the aliens remembered his mother's birthday and called her after the anal probe was over. The man in his mid-sixties had not had a haircut since 1969. He was not a Sikh but a redneck.

The aliens left at noon. They had lunch on Venus before returning home. At home, one of the aliens' wife told the alien that dinner was going to be late. The alien said that he would wait down at the alien pub. His wife was to deliver his dinner there. He had a couple of alien beers with his alien friend. They discussed Earth matters. To colonize or not to colonize? That was the big question of the evening. The alien agreed with his alien friend that to colonize was the wisest strategy.

Two hours later Mr. Smith called and demanded an apology. He felt insulted. He demanded an apology from his former enemy and now friend Mr. Miller. Mr. Miller was not forthcoming. He did not want to apologize. He felt that he was in the right and Mr Smith in the wrong.

Twice a day the doctor was away. No matter! Mr. Smith wanted to get a haircut and not an appendix operation. After finishing his breakfast of bacon and eggs and fresh orange juice, he walked over to the barber shop. Unfortunately the barber shop was closed. Mr. Smith felt alienated and cut his own hair.

Mr. Smith was never abducted by the aliens. He did dress as an alien once at a Halloween party in New Jersey. That is where he met his future wife. Her name was Elena and she was of Russian descent. She was not a mail order bride but the real deal. Mr. Smith felt blessed to have met her. She ironed his shirts and cooked him pelmeni for dinner. At night she sucked his cock for free. He pulled at her hair when she sucked his cock. Then he fell asleep and dreamt of black sheep on a white background.


He-Man is a Nordic Warrior. He has to fight evil Skeletor and his horde of subhuman mutants. He-Man is also Prince Adam. That is his secret identity. He-Man is a real man while Prince Adam is a bit gay. Castle Grayskull does not look inviting even on a bright sunny day. The skull gate reminds one of the deceased in crowded cemeteries all across Baltimore. Baltimore reminds one of London. It has a very English feel to it. The Indian restaurant on High Street comes highly recommended. He-Man's green tiger only eats cat food, though.
He-Man needs a haircut. After all, he is no barbarian like Conan. He-Man is the blonde beast from Susan Sontag's wet imagination. Splendidly He-Man wields his sword in front of his own shadow and when the lightning strikes him, he has all the power! For Eternia and its people he goes into battle, smashing vehicles and throwing Stinkor around in mud puddles.

Where does Prince Adam go shopping? He buys a few apples at the grocery store and unknown fruits at a strange little shop behind Orco's abode. He does not buy slaves as slavery is obviously illegal on Eternia. Once, as Dolph Lundgren He-Man came to Earth and battled his evil pursuers on our blue planet. Evil-Lyn was feminism incarnate. She radiated poison and men trembled when she spoke the dreaded words that stung like a whip.

1,000 years ago witches were burned at the stake for uttering words that seemed like madness to their contemporaries. Today these words melt like little nuggets of wisdom in our ears.

The barber shop never reopened.

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