11/25/2019
Torfdoen
22 Reviews
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Torfdoen
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Tea drinking with the leather colossus or what the Hulk does with a rose
Tenderly, he yells in my ear. I was very pleased to invite him. Through the hole in the wall, I see my neighbors staring at us in disbelief. The plaster is still crumbling a little from the edges. He has just taken the shiny, clean tea service from his monstrous throat bag. Black steam is spreading through the room. Is it tea or does it smoke from a head of a huge monster?
"How did we meet again?"
"Got your address from the M3000 who said I should visit you. You like Assam?"
"The tea? Oh, yeah, I'd love to. Unfortunately I can't see my teacup because of the smoke."
"Here you go. Some iodine?"
"No, dan..."
A terrible scream of wrath blows the few remaining hairs straight. From his nostrils, a large gush of black secretion splashes into my cup.
"Thank you."
He circles with one of his greasy fingers in the microscopically small appearing teacup and looks thoughtlessly into space. An overwhelming smoke aroma now emanates from the liquid and the unknown. The expression of dull serenity in the face of this giant creature, sitting and stirring on the sofa, could not seem more inappropriate, I think.
"Assam, did you say?"
A long sigh of affirmation follows my question.
"May I?"
In the teapot I discover grass and herb containers, black roots and lumps of earth in a bubbling brew. Also the first green tufts sprout on the skin surface of the lethargic looking, not so fearsome monster.
"Here, listen. Your skin, it's made of really strong tanned leather. But now there's all this ethereal green stuff coming out. Is that normal or should I get the hedge trimmer?"
"That's all right, you'll see more changes."
"You suddenly talk so swollen. The tea is excellent, by the way. Assam as he could not be blacker and more herbaceous. Where to buy it?"
The iodine note was not mine, but somehow belongs to the greasy creaminess of the smoking soup, I thought.
To my astonishment, the earth-colored, dark giant on my sofa had mutated into a neat beauty in a leather jacket, wild hair and a gorgeous green beard.
"On my long travels I meet some of the most famous manufacturers of luxury products in the world. I would be surprised if you would have the money left for such a exquisite treasure, I see myself around in this habitually hardly to be surpassed dwelling."
"Well, give me a break. I have some very nice homemade pot holders."
"I don't have time for such things."
The spirited handsome had jumped onto the sofa in one movement and posed with his chest outstretched: "In me the man's power awakens, the spirit of spring has come to me. Say, is there a shop here where they sell plants and other flowers?"
"A flower shop?"
"Yes. It must be a rose and the sweat on my skin and no woman can resist my animal evaporation."
"I must say, in fact, your daring, rustic appearance has subtle sex appeal. Your sweat is the ambratic attractant?"
"It runs out of all my pores. The seductive innocence of a single wild rose has the suggestive phantasm of security in the midst of natural lust."
"You can tell, you're a hard man to tame. Still, you should know about modern mating rituals: If one of the ladies you love asks for a Louisa, let it go with the homage and first go to a secret place of your choice and stay there for an indefinite time. Oh, I can barely let you walk around out there alone. You'd be like an Eskimo in the desert. You with your piggy self-confidence in a world full of idealized restraint and sexual neutrality, I have to see that. I'll go with you. Let's go!"
...
A flower shop and a police department later, the dear friend hangs crumpled over the last drop of remaining tea enjoyment, where I take him comfortingly in my arms, place him on the sofa and promise to introduce him the next day to a group of people who would certainly appreciate his very special way. This is the strange group of perfume lovers, I explain to him.
"How did we meet again?"
"Got your address from the M3000 who said I should visit you. You like Assam?"
"The tea? Oh, yeah, I'd love to. Unfortunately I can't see my teacup because of the smoke."
"Here you go. Some iodine?"
"No, dan..."
A terrible scream of wrath blows the few remaining hairs straight. From his nostrils, a large gush of black secretion splashes into my cup.
"Thank you."
He circles with one of his greasy fingers in the microscopically small appearing teacup and looks thoughtlessly into space. An overwhelming smoke aroma now emanates from the liquid and the unknown. The expression of dull serenity in the face of this giant creature, sitting and stirring on the sofa, could not seem more inappropriate, I think.
"Assam, did you say?"
A long sigh of affirmation follows my question.
"May I?"
In the teapot I discover grass and herb containers, black roots and lumps of earth in a bubbling brew. Also the first green tufts sprout on the skin surface of the lethargic looking, not so fearsome monster.
"Here, listen. Your skin, it's made of really strong tanned leather. But now there's all this ethereal green stuff coming out. Is that normal or should I get the hedge trimmer?"
"That's all right, you'll see more changes."
"You suddenly talk so swollen. The tea is excellent, by the way. Assam as he could not be blacker and more herbaceous. Where to buy it?"
The iodine note was not mine, but somehow belongs to the greasy creaminess of the smoking soup, I thought.
To my astonishment, the earth-colored, dark giant on my sofa had mutated into a neat beauty in a leather jacket, wild hair and a gorgeous green beard.
"On my long travels I meet some of the most famous manufacturers of luxury products in the world. I would be surprised if you would have the money left for such a exquisite treasure, I see myself around in this habitually hardly to be surpassed dwelling."
"Well, give me a break. I have some very nice homemade pot holders."
"I don't have time for such things."
The spirited handsome had jumped onto the sofa in one movement and posed with his chest outstretched: "In me the man's power awakens, the spirit of spring has come to me. Say, is there a shop here where they sell plants and other flowers?"
"A flower shop?"
"Yes. It must be a rose and the sweat on my skin and no woman can resist my animal evaporation."
"I must say, in fact, your daring, rustic appearance has subtle sex appeal. Your sweat is the ambratic attractant?"
"It runs out of all my pores. The seductive innocence of a single wild rose has the suggestive phantasm of security in the midst of natural lust."
"You can tell, you're a hard man to tame. Still, you should know about modern mating rituals: If one of the ladies you love asks for a Louisa, let it go with the homage and first go to a secret place of your choice and stay there for an indefinite time. Oh, I can barely let you walk around out there alone. You'd be like an Eskimo in the desert. You with your piggy self-confidence in a world full of idealized restraint and sexual neutrality, I have to see that. I'll go with you. Let's go!"
...
A flower shop and a police department later, the dear friend hangs crumpled over the last drop of remaining tea enjoyment, where I take him comfortingly in my arms, place him on the sofa and promise to introduce him the next day to a group of people who would certainly appreciate his very special way. This is the strange group of perfume lovers, I explain to him.
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