Longer Winters …

The rivers and creeks are swelling and overflowing, not from melting snow but from deluging rain storms.

Orcans are derooting and destroying woods and forests. And Mother Earth is sending new viruses.

It feels like our homeplanet is shacking its' back to get rid of the meanest parasite it ever had, humankind - us.

I have got the feeling I have written all this before. And I have have got the feeling I am not having these feelings of defenselessness and panic because of the overall situation at all.

Winter is coming? No, winter is gone forever. Or maybe this is seasons end because climate changed in a way that will bring us years-long summers.

There is no immortality but in the water. Unless the water escapes through the vanishing atmosphere into outer space and no-one will be living on this Mars-like planet in a few hundred years any longer. Mars 2.0. And terra-forming will always be a science-fiction trope.

Is this what they call a dystopy?

'It's your own private dystopy, dude!'

That is the llama from down the elevator shaft.

'Stop bruding, dude! And read today's fortune cookie.'

Eating, I think, I will be eating that cookie. I stopped asking myself why the animal is able to read or even sense what I am typing just now. Is it a fabulou hacker? Is it a technological genius? Or is it just in my head, a fraction of my tortured imagination?

Friendship, I think, is that one ship that does not sink. It is sad, I think, but not true.

And the fortune cookie says,

Do you still have the right target?

Today is Saturday, the 29th of February 2020.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 97

Today
is
Friday,
the
28th
of
February
2020.

It's
early
in
the
morning
and
the
lawn
is
full
of
snowdrops.

Real
dots
of
snow
and
not
the
flowers.

Today
is
the
first
day
of
winter.
Today
is
the
last
day
of
winter.

The
world
is
out
of
order.

We're
getting
close
to
seasons'
end...

"Bromford Blues"

The sky was gray when I woke up this morning

Seems to me that nothin' was the same

My situation changed without a warning

(The)

Sad thing is I don't know who to blame

Once upon a time our love was shining brightly

Maybe it was just too good to last

(Or I don't know)

Perhaps I held to tightly

I had no idea the end would come so fast

"Au revoir", she said

She's out of my life, I'm out of my head

So difficult to know which way to choose

And she's gone, c'est ca

Can I go on, je ne sais pas

Got to find a way to lose the Bromford Blues

The boulevard is just another byway

Where we walked together now I walk alone

One more lonely heart

(And)

One more lonely highway

One more drifter one more rollin' stone

"Au revoir", she said

She's out of my life, I'm out of my head

So difficult to know which way to choose

And she's gone, c'est ca

Can I go on, je ne sais pas

Got to find a way to lose the Bromford Blues.

Longer Costumes …

My smartphone is ringing.

'Hello?'

'You do not own a smartphone, you old dinosaur!'

It's the llama. I really do not know how it manages to hide its number each and everytime.

'Where are you, dude?'

'I am here at Harry's Last-Minute Costumes rental, exactly where you send me half an hour ago, animal.'

'Goody, goody, goody. Bring me one, bring me one.'

'May I help you?'

That is an employee of the costumes rental shop, maybe the famous Harry himself. He is wearing a shirt with big, colourful stripes and a red plasticnose in the middle of his face.

'What can I do for you.'

I take a deep breath.

'Do you have costumes for animals?' I ask.

'Yes, Sir!'

The obese man is smiling all over his face.

'We have catwoman costumes for dogs and werewolf costumes for cats. You can have little reindeer horns and ears, capes, shoes, funny glasses with fake noses, everything you like, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Twenty-four seven as they say.'

His smile has become even brighter.

'Turn on the speaker! Turn on the speaker!' I can hear the llama shout from the phone in my hand.

'It's not a dog', I try to explain. 'And it is no cat. It is a llama.'

'Well, yes, sure', the man is twisting his plasticnose. 'And what kind of masquerade do you have in mind for your… your…'

'Llama', I say. 'It is a llama. And you can ask it yourself.'

'Hey, minion!'

The llama's voice sounds even ruder and unfriendlier through the phone and from the bottom of the elevator shaft.

'What do you have in store, man? And Bromford, turn on the camera! I want to see the face of that old shoplifter!'

I do as I am told.

'Well', the man says. 'We have got that jumpsuit with the black arms and legs and the white, woollen chest and hood. You could use the arm sleeves for your front legs and the legs for your… your… hind legs.'

'And look like a sheep?' The llama is not amused. 'I do not want to be a sheep.'

'Well', the shopkeeper is kind of shouting at my smartphone. 'We have got a firefighter costume or a sexy policeman uniform.'

'No hats and no helmets, humans! I am a pacifistic llama and I will wear no uniforms. Bromford, please hurry before the carnival season is over.'

Why, I ask myself, do I always let it bring me into these kind of situations?

'Please, animal, what do you want?'

'I want to be a lawyer.' The animal is almost singing. 'And I want to be a millionaire.'

'And what do you think a millionaire should be wearing, animal?'

'Whatever he wants, dude!' the animal replies. 'Maybe a tuxedo with bow-tie and cummerbund and everything.'

Suddenly I can feel two flat hands in my back. The shopkeeper, may he be Harry or not, is pushing me out of the frontdoor of Harry's Last-Minute Costumes Rental.

'Sorry, Sir', he says. 'We have got kind of an emergency here. I can hear my associate call from the storage. We have to close earlier today.'

Thank you, I mouth in his direction still discussing with the llama on the phone.

'What do you need a costume for anyway? You silly artiodactyl are still on the elevator cabin down in the elevator shaft. Nobody will see you wearing a costume down there, animal.'

'It's carnival season, dude. She Was Killed by Space Junk. What else do I have to say?'

And if we did not stop it we are still arguing in the streets of Bromford via phone.

And the fortune cookie says,

You can also just laugh about it.

Today is Sunday, the 23rd of February 2020.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 96

Today is Friday, the 21st of February 2020.

It's too long. Whatever. City? Which? Now!

"Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Bromford Blues Again"

Oh, the ragman draws circles
Up and down the block
I’d ask him what the matter was
But I know that he don’t talk
And the ladies treat me kindly
And furnish me with tape
But deep inside my heart
I know I can’t escape
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Well, Shakespeare, he’s in the alley
With his pointed shoes and his bells
Speaking to some French girl
Who says she knows me well
And I would send a message
To find out if she’s talked
But the post office has been stolen
And the mailbox is locked
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Mona tried to tell me
To stay away from the train line
She said that all the railroad men
Just drink up your blood like wine
An’ I said, “Oh, I didn’t know that
But then again, there’s only one I’ve met
An’ he just smoked my eyelids
An’ punched my cigarette”
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Grandpa died last week
And now he’s buried in the rocks
But everybody still talks about
How badly they were shocked
But me, I expected it to happen
I knew he’d lost control
When he built a fire on Main Street
And shot it full of holes
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Now the senator came down here
Showing ev’ryone his gun
Handing out free tickets
To the wedding of his son
An’ me, I nearly got busted
An’ wouldn’t it be my luck
To get caught without a ticket
And be discovered beneath a truck
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Now the preacher looked so baffled
When I asked him why he dressed
With twenty pounds of headlines
Stapled to his chest
But he cursed me when I proved it to him
Then I whispered, “Not even you can hide
You see, you’re just like me
I hope you’re satisfied”
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Now the rainman gave me two cures
Then he said, “Jump right in”
The one was Texas medicine
The other was just railroad gin
An’ like a fool I mixed them
An’ it strangled up my mind
An’ now people just get uglier
An’ I have no sense of time
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

When Ruthie says come see her
In her honky-tonk lagoon
Where I can watch her waltz for free
’Neath her Panamanian moon
An’ I say, “Aw come on now
You must know about my debutante”
An’ she says, “Your debutante just knows what you need
But I know what you want”
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Now the bricks lay on Grand Street
Where the neon madmen climb
They all fall there so perfectly
It all seems so well timed
An’ here I sit so patiently
Waiting to find out what price
You have to pay to get out of
Going through all these things twice
Oh, Mama, can this really be the end
To be stuck inside of Mobile
With the Bromford blues again

Longer Aisles …

The llama is calling from down the elevator shaft.

"Yes?" I answer the phone.

"Where are you, Bromford Bibble?" the animal asks.

"I told you half an hour ago", I say. "I am at the grocery store doing our weekly grocery shopping."

"At the grossy store? Dude, why didn't you go to the supermarket? We have got enough gross stuff at home."

"Out of my way, young fellow!"

"What is going on there, Bromford?" the llama asks. "Who was that?"

I drive my shopping cart closer to the nearest shopping rack.

"Just an old lady on her way to the oatsmeals. You should see how she is looking at me. Seems like she doesn't like me making this phone call."

"You bet, young fellow! And now, move on, you are blocking my canned plums!"

That old hag's hair is blue. I cannot name another colour. And she touches me slightly with her shopping cart.

"Bananas!" She shouts loudly. The old lady stands on her toes trying to look over the shopping racks. "Henry! We need bananas!"

The llama on the phone is neighing with laughter.

"Bromford, we need bananas, too!"

Around the corner of the next aisle comes a man as old as the old woman with a walker. And he is shouting, too.

"I have got them bananas, Marjory, right here!"

But he is waving a bundle of salad cucumbers above his head.

The green bananas of Eastern Europe, I think for no specific reason.

And the old lady is grumbling, "This town is not what it used to be. And don't you dare to take the place in the queue at the checkout before me, young fellow."

I let her go first just shaking my head.

"Speaking of oatsmeal", I hear the llama on the phone, "look for some with fish or lobster flavour, dude!"

"Lobster flavoured oatsmeal? Don't be silly, animal!"

"Everyhing is possible these day, dude. If you believed they put a man on the moon. Martial Feats of Comanche Horsemanship. And do not forget the toy surprise in the cornflake box."

Oh, how I hate shopping in the grocery store.

And the fortune cookie says,

If you're not behind this, 

rethink the decision.

Today is Tuesday, the 18th of February 2020.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 95

Today is Friday, the 14th of February 2020.

Valentine has got a day. Valentine from Wellington.
Valentine not Wallaby. 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.

I had more Valentine wordgames earlier today.
But my brain is like a sieve. What is a strainer?

Ginseng. Eat more ginseng.

"Bromford Lady"

Take me down to where you hide

Lay me down, lay me down inside

What use now? Roll back this Pacific Tide

Bromford lady, where did you go?

Yeah, I been chasing you around all Mejico

I'm gonna find my way back to San Diego

Baby, where'd you hide?

Take me down to where you hide

Play me around, lay me at your side

Don't delay your smile, 'cause I know you lie

Bromford lady, let's take it slow

Yeah, well I, I know that I'm no head honcho

Yeah, but I'll, I'll keep you warm in my silky poncho

Where'd you hide?

Where'd you hide?

Bromford lady, where did you go?

Yeah, well I, I heard you lost your last sombrero

Bromford lady, which way'd you flow?

El mariachi, desperado

Where'd you hide?

Tell me, where'd you hide?

Enchilada, desperado day

Senorita, come back and meet me again

Upon the vista, senorita, hey

I love you, so come back here with me again

Longer Wednesdays …

Did I ever tell you all that I do not like Wednesdays? They are not as bad as Thursdays because the whole world will end on a Thursday as the bards once sang but still I do not like Wednesdays.

I am lying on the leather couch in the living room of my penthouse, listing to some kind of music, turning pages of some kind of magazine without really reading. Did I mention that I do not like Wednesdays?

My telephone is ringing, the landline, not the smartphone.

"Hello?"

"Did I ever tell you, that I do not like Wednesdays, too?"

"Llama is that you?"

"Who else could it be, Bromford?"

"But how are you calling me? I found your mobile on the couchtable the other day. And you are still down that elevator shaft, as far as I can see:"

"I am so tired, Bromford Bibble. I am tired and bored. And I am hungry. I am starving, Bromford Bibble."

"You are exaggerating and using my name too often, animal. Do you want more tangerines? Or some cabbage? Broccoli or maybe some spinach?"

"I want something to eat, no more fruits or vegetables; Bromford Bibble!"

"OK, than come out of that elevator shaft, animal. Leave that cabin."

"It is summer and we are running out of ice", the llama says and hangs up.

And the fortune cookie says,

Separate yourself from a burden.

Today is Wednesday, the 12th of February 2020.

Longer Stays …

"Sabine is in town!"

I am sitting, back to the wall, next to the open elevator doors again talking to the animal deep down in the elevator shaft I believe is a llama.

The lights went out some hours ago because there is a blackout all over Bromford, the friendly town by the shore and seaside. But lack of electricity does not really matter because the elevator is still broken.

"Who is Sabine?" the llama asks.

The darkness down the shaft does not seem to bother it at all.

"Sabine is an orcanic storm that has destroyed part of Bromford's infrastructure."

"What do you need you structure for, Bromford Bibble?"

"Not only my structure - may it be infra or not, animal. Broken and disrooted trees crashed the power plant and parts of the power line. Flying roof tiles broke windows and damaged parked cars. Floods blocked several bridges and freeways. And the trains cannot leave stations because the rails are unusable for most of the parts."

"We are all stuck here for a while, as Rodney King say, as they say."

"Yes", I say ignoring the strange quoting. "Looks like it."

"Tell me something new, human."

I close my eyes and listening carefully to my stomach I can feel the skyscraper on 666 Whitaker Lane rock slightly from side to side underneath me in the strong storm breezes. This is what seasickness must feel like.

And the fortune cookie says,

Sometimes you have to fight,

other times you just have to wait.

Today is Monday, the 10th of February 2020.

Longer Trays …

KLING!

What is going on? Who is there?

There are people with voices talking lowly in the hallway of my penthouse on the roof of the apartment building on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the lovely town by the shore and seaside.

I stumble out of bed. With fuzzy hair and still in my pyjamas I open my bedroom door.

'What the…', I begin but Nigel, Kylie's son, is shushing me.

'Listen to the music!'

Nigel is there together with his mother, my dear old friend Kylie. And there is Doctor Kate Hudson, my psych and shrink. They toast to me drinking champagne from chrystal glasses whispering conversations, drinking and laughing silently. And there are Mario, our janitor, and Luigi, our concierge???

'This is an elevator-music-easy-listening-party!' a shrill voice comes from down the elevator shaft.

'My heart will go on', Nigel sighs.

And really, from down the shaft comes a soft piano version of that song.

'Near, far, wherever you are', the llama blares.

Wait a minute! Mario and Luigi are here???

I am staring at them. Brothers? They look like brothers maybe even twin brothers.

'There is no such thing as twin janitors or concierges in 666 Whitaker Lane', the llama shouts out loud.

PLOPP!

One of the not existing black-haired brothers has just opened another bottle of champagne.

'Come on, Bromford Bibble. Have a drink. Let's party like there's no tomorrow.'

'Today is tomorrow', I say. 'And it's too early in the morning for alcohol. What are you celebrating, anyway?'

'The elevator is still broken', Mario says.

'And Celine Dion is playing a hell of a piano down here, if you want my opinion', the llama yells from the elevator shaft.

'Out!' I shout. 'All of you. Leave my penthouse! Leave me alone! And take those bottles of cheap champagne with you!'

'They are from your storage, Bibble', Nigel says.

'Yes, dude', the llama shouts. 'I gave you a six-pack with five bottles for your last birthday. Get out of here but leave the champagne!'

Six-pack with five bottles?

The party is over. Kylie gives a slight wave before closing the door.

And now imaginary Celine Dion starts to play 'Smells like teen spirit' on the imaginary piano down the elevator shat.

Kurt smells like 'Teen Spirit'.

And the fortune cookies says,

What are you waiting for?

Today is Saturday, the 7th of February 2020.

Two-thousand-eighteen Shades Of Bromford - Part 94

Today is Friday, the 7th of February 2020.

Seven brothers from seven mothers
Met seven sisters from seven blisters
Seven pigs with seven sticks
And in the end
I have never been to Limerick at all.

'What is this?' the llama yells. 'Bad lyrics' day?'

Ah, bite me, I think.


"Bromford"

Lord hear me now

Junk boats and English boys

Crashing out in super marts

Electric fences and guns

You swallow me

I'm a pill on your tongue

Here on the nineteenth floor

The neon lights make me calm

And late in a star's life

It begins to explode

And all the people in a dream

Wait for the machine

To pick the shit up, leave it clean

Kid, hang over here

What you learning in school?

Is the rise of an Eastern sun

Gonna be good for everyone?

The radio station disappears

Music turning to thin air

The DJ was the last to leave

She had well conditioned hair

Was beautiful, but nothing really was there ...

Longer Tales …

'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let your hair down!'

That is the llama from down the elevator shaft.

But I am still not sure about the right use of the word 'shaft'. But sometimes a shaft is just a shaft and English not as hard as it seems. But this is not the sentence I wanted to write down. Easier, that is the word in my mind. Simpler. A lot simpler than you think.

'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let your hair down!' the llama cries again.

'Silly animal', I shout back. 'No reason to make fun of my haircut. My hair is not as long as it used to be since I went to the hairdresser last Saturday.'

Sometimes English is not that hard at all. That was the sentence that was on my mind. But not really. Complicated. That is the word I was looking for. Or that I am looking for. Sometimes English is not that complicated at all. And an elevator shaft is just an elevator shaft.

'Stop it!'

Who said that?

'Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let your hair down!' the animal cries for the third time.

'My hair is not that long, animal!' I shout back. 'But I can lend you a rope - and not a robe as I first wrote homophonically - if you want to climb out of that shaft at last.'

'Bah, Humbug!' the animal says. 'Little red writing hood and the seven wolves. And, man, those wolves have longer tails. You should see those tails!'

'What is wrong with you?'

I try to look over the edge of the open elevator doors.

'Everything is allright. Want a redballoon, pal - and not pale as I wrote mistakenally?'

'What?'

'We all float down here!'

The animal sounds even crazier than its craziest self.

'Come floating, too, Danny. You'll float, too. You'll float soon. Too soon. Down here everything is full of Nargles. Man, you should see those sails.'

I pick up the phone to call Mario or Luigi, our concierge or janitor to tell him that there must be some kind of gas down there in the elevator shaft making the llama more than mad.

And the fortune cookie says,

Tasks become solvable 

if they are broken down into individual steps.

Today is Tuesday, the 4th of February 2020.