The Most Beautiful Neck In The World
When I was nine years old I met the woman with the most beautiful neck in the world. She was called Helga Raffenstaffer, and she was friend of my parents, and one week I had to stay with her in her little cottage while my mother was ill. It was strange time. I remember one nigh I get up in night for drink and accidentally walk in on a room full of naked people.
She had a boyfriend called Tony who I didn’t like, he was a short angry Cuban immigrant with a scar through his eyebrow. He was always talking about seizing power and introducing people to his little friend, but I never found out what he meant. One day we went on what seemed like an epic quest to get some fried cheicken from the local village, but this being a village in Norway in early nineties we ended up settling for a fresh rabbit.
Tony often claimed that he was raised in the jungle by apes, and had spent years in mexico as a masked wrestler, but I didn’t believe that, any more than his claims of have been involved in organised crime in Philadelphia, the city in America, where he say there is still a man with one eye who wants him dead in revenge.
Eventualy my mother got better and I went home. I was glad even though I missed Helga. I heard recently that she and Tony have quintiplets and have been living in new york for eleven years
Rivka Jacobs
Another funny and entertaining narrative, Schmurgen. “He was always talking about seizing power and introducing people to his little friend …” this made me laugh out loud. Short but sweet. Nice job.
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Nicolas Papaconstantinou
As always, most erotically charged and excellently uncompromising memoir, sir. I enjoyed it greatly.
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dan lester
I don’t get it.
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