*Author’s note: This story isn’t true– though, it’s based on a true story. Also, if you like what you read here, share it with your friends…
A bright April morning with birds chirruping and a hangover woke Kurt Doonesbury on his birthday. He was getting quite familiar with April mornings and hangovers. Since his life began, Kurt had experienced at least twenty-two years worth of bright April mornings, whether he remembered them or not, or if birds had chirruped on those mornings or not. His life began on one of these bright April mornings and, it seemed to him, that since his arrival his life was becoming one big hangover with each year. If his life was a story, the epilogue would read: Hung over. And the print would just stop there, leaving readers ashamed that they wasted their time reading such a story.
And Kurt would have almost preferred it, if his life just so happened to conclude where he was.
He woke sprawled out as if relaxing in a hot tub. He found himself in a small baroque village in southern Germany. More precise: Kurt lay in the Zentrum’s fountain. Butchers, bakers, and miscellaneous shopkeepers were opening up shop. His head swam and something that tasted like burnt hot dogs and vinegar welled and smoldered its way through his stomach. If he had been the least bit curious as to what he had had for dinner that left such a taste of burnt hot dogs and vinegar in his mouth, the answer would soon follow. Something crunchy was floating around his teeth. As Kurt fished whatever it was out of his mouth and examined it, the burnt hotdog and vinegar taste came bubbling up at speeds which could only be compared to the record-breaking Burt Munro and his Indian motorcycle. What Kurt pulled out of his mouth was a maple leaf and what might have been at some point an insect. It was schnitzel and Kartoffelsalat that had made that God awful taste of burnt hot dogs and vinegar in his stomach that traveled all the way out of his mouth.
The Mystery of What Was for Dinner solved.
Continue reading at http://kurtatlarge.wordpress.com
More
Support this project and others with 1-click micro-donations
