The Heckler

The Heckler (by Ralf Driesner)

Row, row, row your bloat ...

Here I am in front of the mirror. Turbid thoughts run through my head. "How on earth could this have happened? How is it possible? Everything was planned in detail!"

A few moments ago my electronic personal scales with chastening 100-gram divisions and 20-year permanent battery had informed me, that over the Easter holidays - those imperceptible few days - I had put on nearly three kilograms.

The mirror gives away even more. Not just the 3 kilos new-acquisition over the Easter days. That's on top of the usual additional 7 kilos that make me pant while climbing my stairs.

And I had made a point before Easter not to have any chocolate bars any more. But a customer was the trouble-maker. Why had this low life brought along chocolate Easter eggs? A whole bag of them? Fate had its way. Those pieces quickly were exterminated, the next supermarket was not far away, and the good intentions (after taking a fancy to the eggs) were soon forgotten.

There's no help in sight, I'll have to go to my job. The pants are a bit tight. Slim female beauties crowd into the overfilled subway. Wherever I look, only healthy, vital people. And all seem to stare at me, the whole subway conspires against me with the thought "Oh, my goodness". Even the grannies, usually looking so fondly, seem to shake their heads as they eye me. Rage soars up within me. Thoughts like "Don't give me that daft peep. You ancient pensioner fares already crowding the subway at 8.30 in the morning, it's a blatant contravention of the tariff regulations of the Munich Trafik and Tariff Union. You are only allowed to choke up the subway after nine o'clock. And anyway, who is responsible for those "concertina crashes" at the end of the escalators, because it's running faster than you?"

"Next stop ... Main station ... Change trains to ...". The subway driver hollers the key to redemption. My glasses are slightly misted from the effort of absorbing the ten-minute badgering. I decide to to walk the rest of the way, for the sake of fitness ...

Here is my office, I can sit down. The right hand reaches for the handkerchief, the left one to the power switch of the PC. First a well done blow of my nose ... the harddisk of my computer makes a similar, but clearly lower sound. For the first time this morning I feel better. The computer boots, boots, boots and boots. A thousand unintelligible commands are processed inside of a teeny mini-window. And it boots, boots and then ... it doesn't do anything else. An even smaller (coy-ish looking) window conveys to me, that there is something wrong with the connection to the network.

I'm sitting baffled in front of the Redmond-pampered computer, the suspense grows ... and then a smile floats over my face, which slowly develops to a broad grin. "Hey, old shoddy!! Eaten too many chocolate eggs as well, hey?! In spite of your many megahertz, this is as difficult for you as for me."

How beautiful ... I am not alone in this world.

Live long and prosperous ...

Yours

Ralf Driesner <global-dries@gmx.de>