Monday, November 21, 2005

Haunted by flashbacks

Saturday, we went with apprehension to each our yületide smorgäsbord. If you ask me, this is a horrible, horrible tradition. Why would I want to party with my co-workers? I hardly even want to work with them. Come to think of it, I hardly do.

This kind of thing inevitably leads to petty scandals, cigarette smoking and taking a taxi home. Oh, the naked horror of forced communion: Watching the human tragedy play out at close hand, usually in the shape of a divorcee twice your age and half your gender, all dressed up and still as squalid as paper money. It makes you want to wash your eyeballs with detergent, but all you can find is cheap brandy.

Afterwards, when we met up back at headquarters, we were both full to the brim of alcoholic misanthropy.

Sunday we regrouped. Since there are only the two of us, this was easy; we just changed seats and ate each other's pizza. Then in the evening we got a sudden attack of cabin fever and went to town on a spree. My brother, the eminent internet diplomat, had told us about a concert with one of the guys from Clouddead, but that turned out to be a complete lie. Sara then capitulated to the massive hangover and went home. I, however, decided to dig in and fight it out.

I went to an Irish pub to get a hair of the dog. The guy behind the bar was (ironically) an Englishman I used to work with a few years back. I hadn't seen him since then, so I sat around shooting the shit and watching him play an insanely untalented game of chess with a customer. It was a quiet night.

When the bouncer arrived, an hour late and not in any hurry, he turned out to be another guy I used to work with and hadn't seen in a while.

A few years ago, me and him and a third guy were working as doormen at a club.

At that time I had worked as a bouncer different places, and I was getting bored with it. This was a good door, though: Not too busy, not too much trouble, and a young crowd of mostly business students who were all talk. Still, we had our hands full.

That was not the best job I ever had, but by no means was it the worst. The guys I worked with were martial arts people, bodybuilders, a few scrawny gangsters*. Most of them were nice guys, not too bright, but not nearly as dumb as you'd think.

Since I've come back to Lüleå this time, after two years abroad, I haven't been in a hurry to contact any of them. They were just co-workers. But seeing as we're sitting there, talking, I ask him; what about the other guy, the third guy? Is he still working? Well... He hesitates. No, he's not working anymore. He had some trouble.

Trouble, you say? Yes, it was discovered that he'd been embezzling money from the Company. He must have been doing it while we worked with him at that club. Large amounts of cash, over a period of years. Tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of reichmärck.

So what happened to him? Well, you know - they had to have a talk with him.

Where is he now? Not in Lüleå, that's for sure.

There you go.

In other news, Sara's in the kitchen making a roast leg of lamb with red wine sauce and brussel sprouts - and of course an espresso-flavored panacotta for dessert. I'm going to watch a TV show for deaf people on the state channel. There are sound effects, but no talking. It's hilarious.

Jesus Christ - I just remembered. There was a girl at the yületide smorgäsbord with a guitar and a fucking COWBOY HAT playing country & western songs. The horror. The horror.

*) Like myself.

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Anonymous anne said...

After reading this posting, and marveling at the two earlier bog stories by you and Sarah, plus following b1 since the beginning, I think a “bog stories festival” is in order soon. The three of you regale your readership with intelligent, entertaining and thought-provoking pieces... please consider a formal showcase for your competition.

6 November: It was apparent from their tone what they were doing; they were telling bog stories. The rules were simple: First one of them would tell a true tale of personal misfortune, then the other would try and top it, and then the first would go again. So on and so on.

7:25 am  
Blogger Mikkel said...

Thank you for your lovely flattery. Your idea is currently under consideration by our board of censors.

8:47 pm  
Blogger Sara said...

I loove the idea. Finally I have the chance to tell the world about the time I ate a piece of my own ear. My family's just going to love that one. We'll definiteley consider it.

6:49 pm  
Blogger Mikkel said...

It seems like so much work, though.

7:28 pm  

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