the red rose

im sitting in Rote Rose. it's late. obviously it's late. i have never been here sooner than 06:00. it's a matter of etiquette, even. i imagine there's a whole different clientele at 19:00 (it's a german clock if you're wondering). no joy in showing yourself jibberish before 4AM. Rote Rose is a kind of rut for social mildew to form in - between the clattering antlers of fallen intellectuals, burnt out hobos, the prowl of perverts hiding hooves and horns, the fables of junkies', hormonal brawlers, home-sick ballers, wayward losers, crazies, bums and other fascinating dregs. we'd been scharni earlier with some scottish school girls that Nicolas and i had met busking in the subway. Robotron were playing so all the punks showed up, limbs flailing and other people's sweat. after the show the scottish girls say to the KvU boys, "eh, u lads look rar like the sex pistols, ya ken?". it's true that ToeB is the spitting image of Sid Vicious, snarling lip and vacant, and Ro-Bean like some forgotten 5th member. fucking fashion punks. then it comes, "u in a band?". of course they are. what else would they be doing if they weren't at a gig, making a mix-tape or spitting on each other? huh-huh-huhr. i feel like i'm in an 80s remake of Ross McLaren's crash 'n' burn. the bar starts to thin. i get drunk and lose at kicker. twice. maybe 3 or 4 times. moli grabs me by my cuff and hem so i figure we're leaving. we are. her brother is DJing some supercool new underground club that no one knows about but everyone is talking about. i'm looking fantastic - all white in half a smashed up computer, a digital sphygmomanometer, kids knee-pads and a pair of moon-boots, but no one even compliments my outfit. for what do we make the effort? jesus - everyone's an asshole. mmm, no attention, no drugs and done with dancing. i start to look for Moli but the club is rammed. i start to get sexually frustrated like all the pussy in the room is staring at me - winking at me - dripping. it gets so bad all the walls start lining with couples grinding and groping - god - they're so hot and annoying. fuck, get me out of here before i sexually implode. i have to get out of here. Oskar saves the day by dropping us some drinks tokens. we cash in and take the booze with us on our way out the club. moli rarely touches alcohol these days so that's a blessing coz i get double drunk, and, after some staggering and jumping around on cars, end up sitting in Rote Rose. moli's here. she's explaining to some low-life that ToeB is on his way, and so, sadly, she cannot marry him. he's saying he's gonna fight him for her coz ToeB could never treat her as good as he would. moli tells him that she finds the sentiment unlikely and that it wouldnt be fair for him to fight her boyfriend coz he's skinny and probably wouldnt fight back. it goes on - the play - like a drunken burlesque afterparty. the guy next to me keeps touching my ass. it's kind of annoying, actually. "if you touch my ass again, dickhead, im going to stick my thumb into the back of your eyesocket" i tell him - and he hears, as if it were a compliment, grinning like a dozy clown. i raise my voice a little and lean over to him, "wenn du nochmal mein arsch kneifst, du scheiss pappnase, dann druck ich meine daumen in deine augen rein". he continues to smile at me, blankly. *sigh* it's at this point i decide to get really drunk. ToeB bummbles in after having sat for over an hour, most confused that we weren't there, in a bar across the street called "Rote Rosa". it's confusing. we throw our change together and get a few more rounds, but the beer keeps changing price so before long all our money is gone. we hear some stories. ToeB says the Modern Pets and KvU boys went back to the scottish girls' hotel and smashed the place up, filled the room with fire extinguisher foam and robbed a load of bloody underwear which now hangs next to the Traffic Light Gang parachute bra on Elias & Veit's wall. eventually it's after long and not only is there no money left, but also no beer. ToeB and i are very drunk. i realise suddenly that it's of the utmost importance to leave immediately and go steal something to eat, but as we fall out of the bar into the street; where the sun is already making our side of the world painfully visible; i see there are only döner shops. what a surprise - i am a mess. again. i stummble through the kebabish door and slump to the counter grunting drunken bad-mornings. "eh! EH! wzzzblorg uh... watt'n dat'n? hRRRf... *snigger-splurt-cough*...". i figure the guy thinks i'm mentally handicapped and so won't suspect my guilty paw as i mummble a not-so-cunning distraction and whip up the nearest edible in the blind spot (it looks lumpy and gooey - some kind of chocolate rice pudding arrangement). i stuff it down my shorts and shuffle out the shop with the bowed-leg swagger of a hip-hop reject who just shat himself. * * * * * * * the rest of the night is mostly evaporated, but the next day moli explains a few things to me - like - why i have a swollen wound on my head, "err... that was me, you asshole" "huh?" "well, you fell asleep on the ring-bahn, probably rode it round about 3 times till you got ticket fucked, then fucking come up here, smashing the door in while im trying to sleep, bouncing on the bed in an attempt to get me to dance with you, like, you would NOT shut the fuck up for at least an hour so eventually i got pissed and threw my boot at you. clocked you full in the face - then you shut up." "shit man, i dont remember" "guess you dont remember being chased by the dönerman for stealing that rice pudding? you were falling all over the place, getting onto the car bonnets of taxis, asking for rides to the bottom of the street, then lying in the middle of kotbusser tor with your dick out trying to masturbate", "serious?" "yeh, but you said it was too cold" "i swear i didn't steal any pudding. i dont remember eating any" "Kai, it didn't even have a lid on it - it's probably still all in your trousers!" "what?" i sat up in bed and my crotch squelched...