This is a story I wrote quite some time ago. The story behind this story is about as complicated as the story itself (yet, fortunately, considerably shorter)…
This is a story I wrote quite some time ago. The story behind this story is about
as complicated as the story itself (yet, fortunately, considerably shorter).
It began the winter of 2000/2001, when I read in a newspaper that some guy had
killed someone, but was acquitted because he was drunk when he did it. I couldn’t
believe my own ears, and it really bothered me. Drinking to the extent of getting
drunk is something you do conciously, right? So I believe people should be responsible
for their actions in any case. Besides "being drunk" is a loophole in
the law that is just too simple to exploit.
So I decide to write a story which puts things into perspective. At least a little.
Notes
1: This translation is not quite perfect, as it was originally written in Norwegian.
As such, the story has a Norwegian ‘tone’ to it. I decided to not change the "tone"
of the story, although I have done my very best to make this translation as complete
as possible
2: Some of the lyrics of the songs are in Swedish or Norwegian. I decided not
to change them, but I will provide a translation.
————————————————————————
The tale of a socially aware citizen
(original title: En samfunnsengasjert borgers beretning)
I’m too sexy for my cat, too sexy for my cat, poor pussy, poor pussy cat (I)
A sharp, authoritative chop of the hammer relieves, with a distinct sound,
the kitten from having to be drowned in a bucket of water. I have read somewhere
that the drowning death is supposed to be the superlative way to die. They
aren’t worth it. I’ve never quite understood those wooly little creeps.
She takes her pills, careful and round. One of these days she’ll throw the
whole bottle down (II)Two black little earphones, branded Panasonic, are pumping
techno music - designed to turn people stupid - from a Minidisc player straight
into my brain. I’m in line at the liquor store to buy vodka, and I’m annoyed
by how the people in front of me can spend so much time making up their minds.
I’m the kinda man that will laugh at a funeral. If you can’t understand
what I mean you soon will. (III)
Finally in the front of the counter, just to learn that they are sold out.
No more vodka. After I’ve put in plain words to them exactly how I feel about
that matter, I get a bottle of scotch instead. I leave the place while two of
the employees look dumbstruck at me. As if they’ve never seen anyone voice an
opinion before.
First I found some cats, and they were howling at the moon. I told them
"you play the instruments, and I’ll play the buffoon" (IV)
After a few sips of the scotch, I decide to go home. I have a few responsibilities
to take care of before I can go to that party I want to go to. I light up a
smoke and get into the car. I’m rolling down the window because my bitching
wife doesn’t like me smoking in the car. As if it’s her car. As if she ever
does anything but sit at home and watch the small screen.
Hun er pen, men litt dum. Hun er akkurat som vi drømmer om (V)
(she’s pretty, but a bit dumb. She’s everything we dream about)
Every now and then she gets laid by the neighbor. I don’t really mind. Alf
is a good guy. It’s worse about that chink across the street. The bitch thinks
I don’t know anything about it, but I know more than she thinks. I’ll never
stick my dick in her after that stinking chink has been there. I don’t care
about the diseases he probably has, but it’s a matter of principle.
Let me be, I’m all right, can’t you see, I’m just fine (VI)
When I get home, the house looks like a (excuse my French) hellhole. I believe
that every good Christian home should be tidy and at least somewhat clean at
all times. I confront the bitch, and I ask her kindly why the hell she never
does as I advise her. I mean, she’s at home all day while I’m at work, and she
just doesn’t understand that all I want in return is to get home to an OK dinner
and a clean residence. When she finally quit crying and got the larger part
of the blood cleaned off her ugly face, she even complained about me forgetting
to buy her The Mirror. That pisses me off.
Don’t give me that bullshit, you know who I am (VII)
I haul along a few jerry cans from the loft box; I go back to the car. A quick
glance into the living room confirms that the bitch is still alive. Might be
as well - it causes less trouble, at least. What’s more, her so-called friends
might start worrying why she doesn’t show up for bingo.
Too damn bad, you get so far so fast, so what, so long (VIII)
When I get out into the yard, I can see Alf’s car standing in the parking lot
outside their house. He got fourteen years for the worst case of torture ever
to have been revealed in Norway since the Second World War. I heard he was let
out after five. If you ask me, those shit-colored, fag-faced communist baboons
don’t deserve any better. They were trying to key Alf’s car. Luckily, Alf had
been out the night before, and he was asleep in the car. He woke up, and managed
to catch one of them. He dragged the kid, kicking and screaming, up to my apartment.
I felt okay with Alf taking the punishment. After all, it was his car they had
keyed. I can still remember the niggers face when I rammed a white-scorching
awl through his eyeball. Personally, I think I treated him too well.
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the
door. Who is it for? All the lonely people.. Where do they all come from?
(IX)
I toss two jerry cans into the trunk, and I open the third. I smell the contents,
take a sip, and spit it back on the ground. Damn that taste. I reseal the jerry
can, and toss that one in the trunk as well. Next, I take an empty coke bottle,
and I pour some of my scotch in the bottle. After tossing my scotch under the
passenger seat, and the coke bottle on the seat, I drive off.
I’m never alone. I’m alone all the time (X)
It doesn’t take many minutes before I find the girls I spoke to earlier that
day. After some nodding, smiling, hesitating and tasting the coke bottle, the
girls decide to buy one of the jerry cans. I’m two hundred pounds richer, and
I smile as I compare the content of the jerry can with the content of the coke
bottle. The colors match perfectly. I laugh as I jam the accelerator to the
floor mat, accompanied by a loud shriek from the tires
Are you sure you want to be with me, I’ve got nothing to give (XI)
Later that night, I end up on that social gathering I was going to. I find
myself in an ugly red couch, listening to ugly music that would probably have
some ugly green color if music had colors. I’m staring at ugly people who aren’t
quite through puberty yet. It sounds as if I’m not the only one who is wound
up about the music. A small, ugly poodle is barking, flying about between all
the guests.
God forbid you’d ever have to wake up to hear the news. Then you’d really
know what it’s like to have the blues. (XII)
I’m one of the oldest people here. If I had been bothered to calculate, I had
known that I pulled up the average age of the party attendants by an entire
year. But those kinds of things are a complete waste of time - it’s something
the prosecution does. Not I.
Slay all you want (XIII)
The show must go on. So must the party. I drink some of my scotch, and after
a few hours I’ve got contact with a few of the girls. Just afterwards, the two
girls who bought my jerry can show up. They complain a little about the taste
of the stuff they bought, something about it not tasting like the stuff they
tasted from the coke bottle. I told them to shut up and taught them how to mix
the booze with OJ to make it taste halfway decent
Damer i skjørt overalt, ålreit. Hele verden smiler til
meg. Livet, det er helt ålreit (XIV)
(Girls in skirts everywhere, all right, the world is smiling at me. Life,
it’s all right)
It’s starting to get late, and people are starting to leave the party. The
host is wondering about where the poodle went. He’ll probably be searching for
a bit before realizing he’s too plastered to do any proper searching, and then
go to bed. I guess they won’t use the cement mixer until the summer is here
- and until then they probably won’t find what’s left of the creep. Unless it
starts smelling. Or if some other animal finds the organic wreckage and starts
pulling it all over the garage.
Thou givest us fever, when we kissest, fever with thou flaming youth
(XV)
The two girls who bought my jerry can are starting to sober up a bit, and one
of them gets a seat in a car that comes to pick up people from the party. I
tell the other one, Nina or something, that I can drive her home. She seems
thankful, and waves to her friend as the Vauxhall pulls out of the driveway.
You can hear the driver’s piercing voice a long way. Something about her not
knowing her son drank alcohol. Whatever.
If you’ve never stared off into the distance, then your life is a shame
(XVI)
Nina starts to get a bit clear-headed as well, and begins to nag me about driving
her home. I’m starting to wonder if there’s space for her in the mixer as well..
She isn’t that big… but I give up the idea. Too risky. The host winks at us
and points out that there is a spare bedroom, before he disappears up the stairs
with something that only barely can be called female. The girl looks like she
quit eating when she was twelve, while living on a diet of amphetamine, carrots
and beverages with higher alcohol content than a smoothie.
So I tried to laugh about it, cover it all up with lies, hide the tears
in my eyes, cause boys don’t cry. (XVII)
Suddenly an idea takes shape in my head. I lug along Nina into the bedroom.
She doesn’t struggle it, really. I throw her on the bed as I ram one of my socks
into her mouth. It strikes me that sticking a used, perspired sock in someone’s
mouth is a technique I’ll have to use more habitually. Maybe I’ll make it my
image, I contemplate, as I do a few dancing steps to the music that shakes the
entire house from the upstairs bedroom.
But wait a minute.. Something’s wrong.. Hey Mambo.. Mambo Italiano..
(XVIII)
Even thought there isn’t any basic danger of anyone hearing anything, I tie
a towel over her mouth, so they can’t hear her screams up on the second floor.
Then I start to remove Nina’s clothes one by one. She does some fierce resistance,
but I’m stronger than my looks do me credit.
Yes, I finally found a reason, I don’t need no excuse. I got this time
on my hands, you are the one to abuse. (XIX)
When I’m done, so is Nina. Done, I mean. Her body is shiny from sweat, blood
and semen. Her blood. My semen. Our sweat. She breathes heavily after the half
hour of struggling. I breathe equally heavy, and I think back on the wonderful
sensation. I’m wondering if maybe I should lob her in the mixer after all, but
I change my mind. Nina is up for some additional fun.
I’ll run naked through the streets without my mask on. I’ll never need
umbrellas for the rain (XX)
I tie her up so it’ll take a little more than half an hour to get free. Then
I get dressed. I use my T-shirt to clean off some of the blood off Nina before
I put it on. The shirt smells like girls’ sweat. I put on the rest of my clothes,
change my mind, and take off my sweater again. The sweater ends up in a wrinkly
pile in the corner of the room. I leave.
Men kysser man henne rett gir hun etter for trykket og elsker til hun
blir mett (XXI) (but if you kiss her right, she gives in to pressure, and
loves untill she is done)
In the living room I find a bottle of vodka that some pussy didn’t manage to
finish. Suits me fine. I close my eyes, and chug down the entire bottle, while
adjusting my erection that for some reason is showing antipathy towards going
down.
Wait, I hear it again. Don’t turn on the lights and tell me "hear
the way it ends" (XXII)
I jump into the car and drive towards the civilized world. I feel that it’s
rather hard to stay on the road, but I mustn’t crash. Not yet.
I want to thank you, for giving me the best day of my life. Just to
be with you is the best day of my life (XXIII)
When I get closer to the centre of the city, I’m starting to look out for a
good place to carry out the next part of the plan. I’ve got to feed the judiciary
system something. Outside a club I see a couple who are about to get into a
pricey Mercedes SLX convertible. I slow down a little, and wait for them both
to slam the doors. Then I accelerate straight into the side of their car.
My baby don’t care for shows. My baby don’t care for clothes. My baby
just cares for me. (XXIV)
When the police come to get me, they take a blood sample right away, to determine
the level of alcohol in my blood. I play extra drunk, and I pretend to not remember
even getting into my car. Then I end up in a penitentiary cell. After throwing
up the rest of the vodka, I get on the mattress in the cell, where I fall dead
to the world with a big smile on my face.
Wake up the dying, don’t wake up the dead. Change what you saying, don’t
change what you said. (XXV)
A few weeks later my case ends up in court. I am found guilty of driving under
the influence of alcohol. And I’m acquitted of the rape. Unconscious at the
moment of the crime, due to high intake of alcohol. As they read out the verdict
I had trouble to keep myself from smiling.
Cut my life into pieces. This is my last resort. Suffocation, No breathing,
don’t give a fuck if come and you’re bleeding. (XXVI)
As I’m pushed out of the courtroom to do my two months for drunk driving, I
catch Nina’s eye. She looks straight at me with a burning, blazing abhorrence
in her eyes. After a quick glance around the courtroom to make sure that nobody
is watching, I send her a playful kiss.
They call me white devil. Black Jesus. Heaven closes. Hell is freezing.
(XXVII)
I - Right Said Fred - Too Sexy
II - Counting Crows - Another Horsedreamer’s Blues
III - Barenaked Ladies - One Week
IV - Barry Adamson - Jazz Devil
V - Trang Fødsel - Drømmedame
VI - Alice In Chains - Swing On This
VII - Ben Folds Five - One Angry Dwarf and 200 Solemn Faces
VIII - Matchbox 20 - Long Day
IX - Beatles - Eleanor Rigby
X - Bush - Glycerine
XI - Massive Attack - Karmacoma
XII - Everlast - What it’s like
XIII - Bertine Zetlitz - Lovers Do
XIV - Trang Fødsel - Livet er helt ålreit
XV - Peggy Lee - Fever
XVI - Counting Crows - Mrs. Potter’s Lullaby
XVII - The Cure - Boys Don’t Cry
XVIII - Rosemary Clooney - Hey Mambo, Mambo Italiano
XIX - Days of the New - Touch, Peel and Stand
XX - Tori Amos - Happy Phantom
XXI - Cornelis Vreeswijk - Felicia Pratar (Translated from Swedish)
XXII - Dream Theater - Peruvian Skies
XXIII - Dido - Thank You
XXIV - Nina Simone - My baby just cares for me
XXV - Eels - Daisy through Concrete
XXVI - Papa Roach - Last Resort
XXVII - Everlast - Black Jesus