Alfred S. carefully opened the door.
Noiselessly.
Two weeks ago, he had freshly oiled both hinges and the lock. Waking up Hilde and Julia must be avoided at all costs. He would not have been able to suffer them looking at him.
Even the muted light from the corridor was still too much; he pushed the door so far back that only a narrow arrow of light could penetrate into the cozily warm children’s bedroom. How big the room seemed?
As in old times, Hilde lay on her back.
From the ‘black cave of a mouth’ in her formerly beautiful face, the gurgling sound of smacking snores could be heard across the broad bed. Even here, she had pulled the blanket up to the tip of her chin.
Thank God, Julia lay with her back to the covered snorer. She slept without making any noise under her fluffy mountain of hair.
What a pity. He would very much have liked to see her sleeping face. But at least her narrow back was covered, the pink-coloured top raised a little bit. He trembled as he stared on the exposed, shimmering skin with watery eyes. Why was he never allowed to stroke over this warm skin of his daughter even one single time?
Six years ago, when she had moved out of the marital bedroom from one day to the next, Hilde had forbidden any contact between father and daughter.
The reason she had given was that all such old, sappy pigs as Alfred would be thinking about when embracing young girls were
perversities. It was imperative that Julia be kept away from the man who was allegedly her father.
And if she dared to break that prohibition even a single time and be caught by her mother with Alfred, her life would be made hell in such a way that she would wish she had never been born. She would then suffer no less than Alfred had been suffering for fifteen years now, due to her constantly tormenting him.
To this day, said Hilde, she could not understand how she ever had seen fit to date this sorry piece of man. Neither his shabby bit of income, nor his meagre pension had ever enabled him to contribute significantly to the domestinc budget. But there were a few things he had been really good at, such as lying around lazily, watching TV, drinking beer and farting all over the place, she said.
Mind you, she really could have used someone to help her with the household! But he was not capable of doing anything of the sort: wherever you looked in the flat, you saw how dirty and soiled everything was, Hilde railed at him. And the kind of food he threw together in the kitchen each day looked so disgusting, she did not even dare throw it into the biological waste. She said she never understood how Julia could eat something like that on a daily basis. Well, perhaps she was his daughter after all? …
And this abominably sour smell!
Whenever she came near him, there was the danger she might throw up, is how she put it. Watching TV with him by her side was pure hell.
Why couldn’t you just dispose of such a scumbag in the biological waste, she often asked her daughter who then would just dully stare at the floor …
What a huge liberation it would be, she often cried on a Sunday, if Alfred were finally to leave, or even better – Go West.
If this happy event should some day actually happen, then she would really not hesitate and even go to the church as fast as she could in order to light the thickest and longest candle available. And she said not even the abominable outpouring of clerics could stop her ecstasy if this scenario were finally to become reality.
Even those devious colleagues of hers who only sought to lie to and cheat on her day in day out and who always tried to belittle her in front of the boss – without success, because this pig incidentally thought of nothing else but play the stud with her, as she had told Alfred two weeks ago not for the first time – would not keep her from it. Now Alfred approached his snoring wife in the dimness of the cozily warm children’s bedroom, looked at her and even briefly laughed, before pointing his newly acquired pistol, which he had been holding in his hand all the time, towards the black snoring hole with great care. He aimed accurately, stopped breathing for a short time, and then pulled the trigger three times. …
Even with the second shot, Julia rose with terrified eyes and gave an unbelievably loud yell.
Like an incited animal, she ran roaring from the bed towards the lighted corridor seconds later and drummed against the locked front door like mad with her light fists and feet, whimpering all the time until finally the neighbours were alerted… …
Around this time, the fourth shot was fired – as the neighbours later told the police!
KH
(Translated by EG)
(All similarities with a true recent event are purely accidental)
PS:
And two weeks from now, on February, 23rd, 2012, you will again read about “Carl…”, who is still without Gerlinde!
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