Monday, November 07, 2005

1st bog story: Henk's apartment

Somehow, all my stories seem to revolve around trips to the ugly parts of European cities.

Once upon a time in the early or mid nineties, I was in Amsterdam searching for the ungovernable girlfriend, to convince her to come back home with me. When I found her and she completely refused, I decided to stay for a while, and since I had nothing better to do I became loosely involved with a shady and untrustworthy kind of guy. Qu'elle surprise.

The ungovernable girlfriend was staying in a camping trailer on a radioactive landfill with her short and nasty boyfriend. I met up with her every day and sold LSD to a number of fat and unsuspecting German tourists. At one point I decided to go and stay with my blur-of-the-moment and his brother in Henk's apartment.

The two brothers were fed up with living on the radioactive landfill, and had somehow convinced this guy Henk that they could come and live in his flat together with their two beastly dogs, free of charge.

Henk was a 6ft tall, pale, skinny, weird looking Dutch- man who didn't speak a word of English. The brothers spoke no more than a few words of Dutch between them.

The flat was small, and it was decorated with many, many white and pink porcelain poodles. They were cheap and ugly little things, like the kind you might have found in the home of a demented grandmother. Additionally, Henk had a rather substantial CD collection. All of them - and I mean all of them - were either Truckers collection vol. 1-120 or Christmas collection vol. 1-150. Also, copious amounts of cocaine was involved.

Imagine the atmosphere.

One lovely day, Henk's girlfriend came to visit on her monthly leave from the insane asylum. Suddenly everybody who were usually in charge in Henk's apartment shuffled out. I sat there, dumbfounded. A small and unusually ugly and intense woman with a sizeable mole on her face came in and stared at me for what seemed to be an eternity. Henk had a mixed look of fright and retardation on his face. He smiled a toothless smile at me and told me to get lost. I collected myself and left in a hurry.

On my way off the couch, I noticed a small hard object behind my back. It was a dictaphone. Henk the toothless wonder was recording everything that went on in his apartment. I went to the pub and forgot everything about the damned recording device.

That is, until the next morning when I rediscovered it underneath my pillow. I counted my losses and left.

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4 Comments:

Blogger Sara said...

Mom? You know I'm making this up, right?

12:55 am  
Anonymous ungovernable crackle and pop said...

yea i wasted my time with a cracked up evil little man some 13 years ago, i think it was part of my suicide mission gone bad. but then again i always had a poor taste in men...
actually i think somebody killed him a couple of years later, and put us all out of his misery.
i remember henk too.
didnt he get mononucleosis or some other weird
'my head is enormous and pink' disease?

7:28 pm  
Blogger Sara said...

I'm guessing 'some other weird disease' category.

9:26 pm  
Blogger Sara said...

THIS ring a bell?

10:55 pm  

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