Chapter 4: How I stopped being a motherfucker and became the soft funny crippled nipple-licker, I am still today (1)
Zyklon B. The gas, they used to use, when concentration-camp-inmates, Jews and also Non-Jews were amassed in the so-called shower-rooms, waiting for the shower, being already full of dark suspicions, soon to realize, that the steamy material coming out of those holes at the ceiling had the purpose to kill them, to make them die a very unpleasant death. Zyklon B, that is how my brother and his gang in the wild decadent, egocentric, but very cosmopolitical midst and end of the 70s, used to call this big blond waiter in the “Roma”, their favorite Italian restaurant, where they loved to come together. My older Brother and his friends, a bunch of arrogant rich Jewish kids, who were so proud of their parents. Proud of their eastern-European immigrant parents, a) that they survived the Holocaust and b) that they became rich in bad bad Germany, making money with their real estate on the same bloody Germans who most probably wouldn’t care less about some more Jew-killings. The waiter, they used to call Zyklon B, a big, blond, obedient and a bit hostile guy, having this deep inward lying, unintelligent, uneducated eyes, was indeed somehow filling up all this stupid Hollywood clichés about the typical SS-guy. Years later in 1984, my older Brother, now a young promising lawyer, never as depressive as me, simply always older, more into life and reality and mastering the challenges, as you expect it from the older sibling, much better than me, the younger, my older brother ridiculed my beloved German friend Hans by calling him Zyklon B. Hans as in Schwanz, which means tale in German, or – cock; Hans was my girlfriend´s Mira´s new, non-Jewish German boyfriend. I hated my older brother for calling Hans Zyklon B, because I, I loved Hans. Okay, he took Mirale from me, but hadn’t I deserved it? Though not being a homosexual, I had my phantasies on him. Unlike this waiter in the “Roma”, who maybe would have been a candidate for Hitler´s killer-elite-unit, my Hans would have never gone to the SS, on the contrary, he would have saved Jews. And he loved my Mirale, much more than I loved her, and of course fucked with her much better, than I ever fucked with her. Actually I did not fuck with her so much in all those two years, I was together with her. I mean, we were young and horny, so we fucked here and there, but …you know?! Nothing to write home about.
[more]