Tuesday, August 05, 2025

Bromford and Mammoth …

 

On the dark brown kitchen table stands a round white cup filled with the darkest blackest tar.

»It's not tar, dear«, says a friendly female mammoth dressed up like a diner waitress. »It's just black coffee.«

»And it is the damned best coffee in the whole wide Western hemisphere«, the llama adds. »This is, excuse me, a damn fine cup of coffee, Norma.«

»It is tar«, I insist. »And it is thousands of years old. And it holds the DNA of those ancient mammoths they have cloned our waitress of.«

The two animals are ignoring me, starting a private conversation of their own.

»I have heard he is writing a book«, the mammoth lady says, asking the llama at the same time, »Another cup of coffee, dear?«

I lift the round white cup from the table gazing into its plain black surface like into a mirror. I could swear I saw a young, blonde woman's face on that surface only moments ago, like a spirit trapped in tar.

I turn the full cup upside down and no liquid spills onto the kitchen table. So much for coffee, my ass, my donkey. It is either tar or frozen solid.

As I look again, the blonde girl's reflection - or spirit - is gone.

»Yes«, I can hear the llama say, »he's writing a novel and he wants to call it

'Life and Adventures of Bromford Bibble'.

And I would like to add the following subtitle,

'… or One Man's Descent into Madness'.«

And I cannot stop thinking, »Who killed Norma Palmer? Who killed Norma Palmer? Who killed Norma Palmer? …«

🆕🆕🆕🆕🆕

Today is Tuesday, the 5th of August, 2025.

No comments:

Post a Comment