Guten Morgen meine lieben Leser und alle Interessierte,
ihr plant einen Urlaub?
Benötigt dringend noch ein gutes Buch?
Wie wärs mit meinem Buch Lunatic Castle with a Lakeside View.
Ich stelle es euch mit 2 Kapitelauszügen vor.
Ich hoffe sehr, euch gefällt, was ihr zu lesen bekommt!
Es gelingt mir euer Interesse für meine Übersetzung zu wecken!
Ich kann euch bestenfalls begeistern!
Men who would have
been third rate at best in the outside world beyond the portcullis, who would
have been fodder for casting shows or reality television of the worst sort,
deluded themselves into believing they could hook up with an alpha female here
in the Castle. But it didn’t stop there. Mating was obviously the primary goal.
These men were in heat in the worst way.
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What tempting offers from all sides! Sometimes, after so much masculine
tender loving care, so much unwanted attention, she could almost feel her gag
reflex. Nonetheless, she had to admit that the evidently debilitated man’s
accusation was correct. Here in the Castle there were only four decent
conversationalists from whom Bärbel could choose: Renate, Holger.
Eure Bärbel
ihr plant einen Urlaub?
Benötigt dringend noch ein gutes Buch?
Wie wärs mit meinem Buch Lunatic Castle with a Lakeside View.
Ich stelle es euch mit 2 Kapitelauszügen vor.
Ich hoffe sehr, euch gefällt, was ihr zu lesen bekommt!
Es gelingt mir euer Interesse für meine Übersetzung zu wecken!
Ich kann euch bestenfalls begeistern!
Life writes the best stories or …
What soap opera did I land in?
The amount of
testosterone here at Lunatic Castle with a Lakeside View was almost palpable.
Men who would have
been third rate at best in the outside world beyond the portcullis, who would
have been fodder for casting shows or reality television of the worst sort,
deluded themselves into believing they could hook up with an alpha female here
in the Castle. But it didn’t stop there. Mating was obviously the primary goal.
These men were in heat in the worst way.
And how exactly did
the chosen, the selected, the adored react?
Hard to believe, but
these grown-up women giggled and gloried in the attention. Women upwards of
fifty suddenly fancied themselves adolescents again and responded to advances
with all of the allure they could still muster. The lights were still on in
some of the uteruses present. It’s a sure bet some of them were thinking,
“Before my biological clock completely stops ticking …” Some of the women even
dyed streaks into their hair to be more visible from low Earth orbit, but a pig
wearing lipstick is still a pig.
Without a doubt some
of them imagined they were letting a racing boat into bed with them, but alas,
it was instead the Titanic.
From time to time it
was too much for Bärbel, and she wanted to scream, to shake these women back to
their senses and return them from their fantasies to the reality of their own
world in the here and now. Unfortunately, Cupid seemed to have arrived before
her at the lakeside Castle and had emptied his quiver.
Since she remained
impervious to these testosterone bombs, she was lucid enough to arrive at her
own conclusion: she was witnessing occasional localized cases of dementia. One
was often led to wonder what parallel universe the demented had to think they
were in for their fantasies to be manifested.
Some of the
aforementioned men were finally able to find women at Lunatic Castle with a
Lakeside View they could touch without having to inflate them first. To be
fair, there were surely some among these men who still had active, consensual
sex – when their partners fell asleep with their mouths open.
Harking to the call
of hormones, bones were being jumped left and right. Test drilling was
commonplace. After all, sooner or later partnerless sex yields no more
surprises. Even genetic condition was increasingly ignored. Bunga, bunga.
Perhaps Bärbel should
explain to these women in small, understandable words that German men only
remained aroused for eleven seconds. After eleven seconds without the answering
warmth of a female body, his erection collapses like a soufflé removed from the
oven too soon.
Many a testosterone
bomb was dropped on a menstrual minefield here.
Quite a few patients
here suffered from a thrombosis of the emotional artery, and many men were
looking for a new plaything behind their partners’ backs.
There were a few
well-travelled residents in the lakeside Castle who followed the example of the
city of Esperantina. In this city not far from Rio de Janeiro the Day of the
Orgasm has been celebrated every year since May 9th, 2002. The
citizens of this city view the orgasm as a gift from God. These world
travellers, who had declared themselves missionaries of this creed, joyfully
celebrated this queer holiday, selflessly offering their own worldly flesh for
the festivities, but naturally only to win new converts to their cause. In that
sense, all those mentioned here enjoyed a good holiday every day.
Bärbel ruminated on
the drama being acted out before her eyes. It has been scientifically proven
that human genes are ninety-eight percent the same as pig genes. Only two
percent of their genes result in men not growing a curly tail. That, however,
is no excuse for trying to get as many of the female patients as possible in a
clinic for psychosomatic sickness to gently stroke their throbbing love warrior
out of his hiding place.
Maybe the way to
infuse these women with more objectivity was through agitation. Perhaps
investing in a bull horn and leaflets and inciting a riot would get these women
to remove their rose-colored glasses.
Where’s a rabid
feminist when you needed one? Where are her followers? Was this territory
declared a feminist-free zone while I wasn’t watching? Girls, I need you!
Hellooo! Am I the only one fighting on this front? thought Bärbel.
Many of the men
present wanted a double garage, so to speak, in their relationships. At home
they presumably had a well maintained, classic automobile, perhaps from the
same year they were born, and here at the Castle they were in the market for a
brand-new hybrid that didn’t have many miles on the odometer, and hadn’t really
been broken in yet, or, even better, hadn’t been broken in at all. The new
owner wanted to break this lovely new model in himself.
It’s superfluous to
state that permanent, committed companionship was exotic here. Here, men and
women alike considered the constancy of relationships a charade. This begged
the question what their wives, husbands, or partners thought of this view.
Quarrels, arguments,
rows with an inclination to violence were a foregone conclusion. Married,
filing separately.
Here in the harbor
from the storm many marriages must surely have wrecked on the rocks within
sight of the shore.
Testosterone surplus or …
Randy tomcats
In the hotel in which
Bärbel was quartered there were two elevators. One of them was always out of
order …
The elevators must
have predated Noah’s ark. Every time it took a few full minutes for them to
arrive on the required floor. Bärbel considered it a kind of torture to have to
wait for the appearance of the elevator every time.
The time stuck in the
elevator as well as the time stuck waiting on the elevator were ripe times to
be approached by one of the testosterone bombs. They seized the opportunity
during the long wait to make shameless overtures. Most of the men at the clinic
were obviously being led solely by their animal instincts. Ninety percent of
them must have been listening to the devil seated on their left shoulder
whispering incessantly “mate, mate, mate!”
Bärbel had just
gotten in the elevator with another patient she recognized when he asked in a
circuitous fashion, “Say, why is it so hard to find the right partner?” Bärbel
countered with a question of her own: “Why do you ask? Is the wrong woman
sitting at home waiting for you?” Either the man hadn’t heard her, or he slyly
overheard her question, for he pressed on with his trash talk. “The table is
set and there’s quite a spread on it, if you know what I mean, but still I
can’t find a woman to sit down and enjoy the meal,” the degenerate continued to
insinuate. Bärbel didn’t reply. Instead, she simply gave him a questioning look
and got off the elevator without wasting her breath on him. What a great way to
start the day!
What does trash do as
it ages? It becomes more full of life, thought Bärbel as she looked for Renate
in the yard in front of the Castle.
The female guests at
Lunatic Castle with a Lakeside View were ogled every morning by the
testosterone bombs staying in the hotel. As soon as everyone got in the
elevator the Schwarzenegger wannabes, who in fact looked more like Marlon
Brando in his later years, made their moves and it was decided which of the
females had passed the test and would be briefly permitted to play the role of
eye candy on the arm of one of the men, or more importantly, playmate in his
bed.
What in the world
must the men here have thought of themselves? With respect to their hormone
profile they were all demonstrably men, but not one of the male patients here
met Bärbel’s most basic definition of a man in any other way.
Typical come-ons from
these paragons of masculinity during the elevator ride ran from “What’s on your
plan for today?” to “If you’re not doing anything special, how about we go grab
a cup of coffee together?” or “You want to go into the city with me?” The
pinnacle was “You’re here, too?” Naturally these questions were only asked of
those women they thought to be receptive to their blunt advances.
Bärbel was asked this
last question point blank on one occasion while she was waiting on the elevator
with Renate and some other women. “Just a moment. I’ll ask my friend,” replied
Bärbel, and turned to her right where Renate was standing. “Renate, am I here,
too?” “Yes,” smiled Renate. Bärbel turned back to the testosterone bomb and
retorted snippily “It seems I am here, too, yes.”
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Just as Bärbel
decided things couldn’t get stupider, she received a lesson from the bottom of
the abyss of stupidity. About two hours after the aforementioned confrontation
Bärbel was in the elevator when she was asked another of these brilliant
questions: “Would you like to talk about your problems with me?” “Sure. I can’t
imagine pouring my heart out to someone better than you,” she answered with
more than a little edge in her voice.
I’m sure you’re only
available as a double pack, you old goat: you and your huge ego shooter, she
thought during the remainder of the elevator ride to the ground floor.
It was irritating.
Lamentations flew left and right here at the lakeside Castle. Would have, could
have, should have, and if only.
Many of these male
pussycats rubbed, batted, and purred like fat, old, randy tomcats to reach
their goal. Their fur was nearly rubbed off, their claws dull from playful
scratching, and their paws bore the scars of their many failed attempts, but
these tomcats were indomitable in their mating efforts.
During her stay she
even heard this unbelievable sentence: “I can make a woman very, very happy.”
Bärbel looked at the two people talking standing at the entrance, or exit,
depending on how you took it. She was walking past the smokers into one of the
buildings on her way to group therapy. God’s gift to women must have been
pushing sixty, and the woman he was talking to can’t have been thirty, by the
looks of it.
She entered the
building and thought: The question is, how could the good man make a woman
nearly thirty years his junior so happy? The only way I can think of is if he
closed her bedroom door – from the outside.
She often heard this
one: “I understand women. If one of the other patients causes you a problem, or
if you have anything else on your mind and just need to get a load off your
chest, I always have an open ear for you.” Did the man really mean an open ear,
or perhaps an open zipper, always ready.
Bärbel hoped that
this chitchat coming from an unemployable man was nothing more than a phrase
repeated without meaning. He couldn’t really mean that silly platitude, could
he? He must have been dreaming. But how nice of this man who so understood
women to gallantly, touchingly be so concerned for the well-being of the female
patients, and so guilelessly and selflessly.
Why didn’t these men
ever get tired of hearing their own voices?
It made Bärbel
shudder that all of the even halfway attractive women at the Castle constantly
had to fend off the advances of multitudinous, well, let’s just call it like it
is, sex-starved men. What a hassle.
Most days Bärbel felt
quite put upon by the male inmates’ pushy behavior, even if she wasn’t directly
involved. These extreme behavioral patterns are probably a direct result of the
fact that large portions of a snail’s genes remain in human DNA, and in the
final analysis men on the make can’t do much about their sliminess. The poor
things, thought Bärbel after one of her morning elevator trips through the
gauntlet.
She had heard
everything. Really, everything. How about this one: “If I happen to be in your
town, maybe we could grab a bite to eat together.” Or this: “We could go out
together somewhere, if you’d like”. “Give me your e-mail address so we can
trade information and pictures,” when Bärbel was sure there were no pictures to
trade. “How about we trade telephone numbers?” Sure, thought Bärbel, why not
give him your cell phone number so you can be available for him day and night.
Bärbel discovered the
sad result of removing herself from the line of fire of the men and their
constant come-ons, of turning down invitation after invitation and making it
clear that she was not interested in the testosterone bombs: she was considered
arrogant and aloof. “You think you’re better than everyone else, don’t you?”
one man threw in her face after she had rejected his invitation to the movies.
It was, of course, only the petty man’s injured pride.
Life’s neither a
circus, nor a walk in the park, my dear radiation poisoned men, thought Bärbel
after the aforementioned suitor had loudly aired his opinion through a
stuffed-up nose.
Eure Bärbel
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