Before I moved out of my now haunted flat, I was sent to Ramstein Air Base in Germany aka USAFE Headquarters for a week. I’ll have to write another blog post or two about an Arkansas Razorback in Europe, I guess.
I was glad to get back. In spite of the fact that Ramstein AB was huge and boasted a Burger King, I didn’t take to it very much. Part of the tour of the base when we arrived was showing us the blown-up Headquarters building that had been car-bombed by a German terrorist group. So although Germany was beautiful, it was also a place where you could get blown-up while doing your day-to-day ‘peace-time’ duties.
It left an impression all right.
The first person I bumped into when I got back to the village was Frank my toilet sharing buddy. As I walked up to my front door, he sat in the little courtyard outside our adjourning flats, barbecuing a steak for a young lady in high heels and blue-jean shorts.
He had a fixed grin on his face and he greeted me effusively.
“Hey, Holmes! When did you get back?” This was said through gritted teeth as he talked through his fixed grin.
I stopped and looked at Frank.
“What?” I started laughing, “I got back today. Why are you talking like that? Are you drunk?”
I laid my duffel bag down and sat on it.
“Dude, what happened?”
“Well, Holmes, I was in the pub and it was close to closing time. Tom was serving last orders when these three punks came in.”
Frank took a drink out of his beer and turned the steak over.
“They started giving Tom a hard time and I was the only one left in the pub, man. The midget was talking big and threatening Tom. So I stood up and got involved.”
“Well, you know I’ve been taking Karate lessons, right?”
I nodded. Frank took the steak off the grill and after putting it on a plate handed it to the girl. “Here you are darlin’ put your mouth around that. Why don’t you check and see if your boyfriend wants one. I’ll be glad to put one on for him.”
The girl giggled and said okay and trotted obediently into the hall leading to Frank’s flat. I looked a Frank, stunned. “Isn’t she one of your ‘massage’ girls?”
“And she brought her boyfriend?”
“Yeah, Holmes. He’s cool with it. He brings her over on his motorbike..”
I was very surprised, I mean, these girls didn’t give massages, if you get my meaning. The idea that the girl’s boyfriend would tag along and have a steak dinner with his girlfriend’s client was beyond my comprehension. She didn’t come back out, so I can only assume that her boyfriend had some scruples that precluded eating a steak from clients. Either that or he was sharing hers.
Frank handed me a beer and continued his story.
“Well I’m just about to get my black belt, Holmes, so I figured I could take care of these little chumps, no problem.”
“So what happened.”
“The littlest dude in the group, the midget, hops up and punches me.” He paused, “Once.” Frank rubbed his hand over his jaw. “Little fucker knocked me out and broke my jaw,” He pointed to first one side of his jaw and then the other, “Twice.”
I bent over double with laughter. Frank stood glaring at me for a minute and then started braying laughter through his wired up jaw.
Taking a swig of beer, Frank stopped laughing and glared off into the distance.
“Man I’m gonna sue that son-of-a-bitch instructor. Or at least get my money back.” Shaking his head he started back into his flat muttering, “One punch, Holmes, one fuckin’ punch.”
I went into my flat then, only to discover that my electric meter had run out of money the week I was gone and everything in my little refrigerator had spoiled.
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