Extraneous Voices of Picayune > Citadel Tavern

Anecdotes of the Bygone

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Ancient Gamer:
To Hell With Him, Part Deux

After that party I fell in love with that girl. Problem was she was charming, fun and so very, very faithful. She was really a likeable person. Naturally, I had to do something about that boyfriend. My aching heart demanded it, and as you know: All's fair in love and war.

I soon realized that he was insanely jealous. She was as sweet as can be, but he was suspicious and distrustful. Problem was I was losing. She had realized I was in love and was withdrawing out of respect for her boyfriend. So we had this big argument, that I provoked into existence, and when she turned around to leave, I picked her pocket and stole her wallet.

Infuriated, she walked away, just as I slid the wallet down my right leg, down on the floor.

"You dropped your wallet!", I told her, and while she bowed down to pick up the wallet, I silently retrieved perfume from the shelf and silently doused her while talking loud and angrily enough to conceal the sound.

She left the room, and I ran to the door and pressed my ear to it. She lived next door you see, in an apartment next to mine.

"Did you tell him to shove off?", I heard her boyfriend say.

"Yes, but it wasn't easy", she told him.

Then I heard loud sniffing sounds, followed by a scream.

"You @!#$ing reek of him! You got his perfume all over you! You've been @!#$ing faking it and snuggling up to him!", he screamed in a heartbroken voice.

Then I heard some scuffling and the crushing of things. Soon I heard quick footsteps down the hallway. I peeked through the keyhole, and there she was, walking away in anger.

I had already put my shoes on, and quietly locked the door. I ran after her.

"What happened? What happened?", I yelled, and she broke down in tears and told me about this madman of a boyfriend.

"And he thought we had snuggled?", I said. "Clearly his hearing must be bad, because everyone must have heard that argument of ours. I think he is too mentally unstable to be with you!", I said and she cried and said she tried, but he was so jealous.

After a while she took my hand, and we skipped along the road, two youngsters happy together in a cruel and jealous world.

She told me that afternoon that she would leave him.

I told her what I had done... Two years later.
She opened her eyes in disbelief, then laughed long and hard.

Ancient Gamer:
Traveling with Scrooge, Part 1

This happened a number of years after these early stories. I was going on interrail through Europe with a lot of friends, but "Scrooge" was the one who would define our travels. At this time he was sick (but no one knew as he didn't tell anyone) and extremely preoccupied with saving money.

Meet the Italians
At this time Europe had lots and lots of border controls, and Eastern Europe had only been freed from oppression less than a decade earlier. We were on a night train that was gonna cross a lot of borders, but Scrooge had heard a terrifying story of people being robbed of their passes if they handed them to the ticket controller. Thus it came to be that as every other tourist handed the ticket controller their passports, we eyed him suspiciously and said: "NO!".

Late that night we were deep asleep. We had been quite rowdy, Norwegian style, as some Japanese tourists entered our compartment in the train. Terrified the Japanese exited and sat on top of each others laps in the neighbouring compartment. That meant we got the entire thing for ourselves and we laid there, snoring, when an Italian man burst into the room.

"Waka the @!#$a up!", he yelled. His voice was like the voice of Italian parody, and had he not startled us, we would probably burst out laughing.

"WAKA UPPA!", he screamed once again, and as I sat up he shoved the muzzle of a submachinegun against my forehead and he shoved hard, pushing me back. He had his flashlight shining into our eyes as we sat there, now terrified into absolute alertness, and he took the passports, while holding the gun ready and his flashlight under his arms.

"Don'ta turna offa tha lighta! Don'ta even mova! Don'ta even think abouta closing tha doora!", he said, then he left.

We sat there, frozen, like cattle, for fifteen minutes. By then the train had started moving and after a while it was evident he wasn't coming back. We got our passports from a smirking ticket controller at the end station, Venice, Italy.

The Blondes on the Subway
We were in Budapest, Hungary, about to travel by the subway, when all these people suddenly swarmed into the train. Noone knew where they came from, but we stood like fish in a barrel when a beautiful blonde squeeze up against me. She has a really, really low cut dress and huge boobs, and push the boobs against my chest, starting to rub them against me, while moaning. "You areh ahhhh biiiighhhh maaaaanhhhh!", she whispered to me, her eyes locked alluringly into mine.

To me the con was fairly obvious, and I clenched my hands around my wallet as I felt hands patting me down, all over me. Not just hers. Multiple.

When we exited the train, Scrooge stood there, his eyes shone, he smiled from ear to ear. "AG, you will NEVER, EVER believe what just happened to me!", he said, pride evident in his voice.

"Let me see... A beautiful blonde pushed her boobs against you and rubbed them around?", I retorted quickly.

"Ehhh... She was not blonde, she had dark hair, but how did you know?", he said.

"Well, because I still have my money", I quickly retorted.

Terrified, Scrooge patted his hands on his pockets, and began to scream. "My money! My money! d**n, she took my money!"

It turned out they only got his secondary stash. The primary he had hid away, deep, deep down in his backpack.

Catholic Hospitality
Back in Venice, we had nowhere to stay. We were piss poor students, and looked for the cheapest options. Tonight was carnival night, a big celebration, famous in Venice for cool masks and fireworks and wild festivities. So we found this Catholic Monestary that rented out rooms to travelers, and we checked in.

Thing is, this place did not tolerate members of the same sex sharing quarters, so the boys were put in one end, the girls in another. Furthermore, they did not tolerate locks on the toilets, after all drugs exist. On top of that, they had pure Italian toilets, meaning holes in the ground, so when we really had to go, we had to stand there, in hockey position, desperately holding on to the door knob as several needy people came by and grabbed the door, trying to pull it open.

Later that night it turns out that not only do they not tolerate members of the same sex sharing quarters. They closed their doors really early. So when I went down around ten o'clock, to check out the carnival, they told me the monestary had closed for the night. No one exiting, no one entering.

Infuriated I decided that this was not for me. So an hour later I snuck out. I crawled between the laser beams, I squeezed past the CCTV in the stairs and when I came to the bottom of the stairs: 2 inch thick steel bars barred my way. They had put me in Fort Knox.

There was no girlfriend for me that night. No carnival either. The next morning I left Venice. I did not get to see carnival, but I left one anecdote richer.

The Hamburg Incident
When we arrived in Hamburg, me and my girlfriend were pretty low on cash. Before we left Norway we told Scrooge about this, and he said: "Nevermind that. If you get low on cash, you can borrow from me. I have lots. Lets just leave!", so we followed him.

By the time we reached Hamburg, we had no more cash. So we borrowed some from him, because we were hungry. We went up some escalators and were greeted by the sight of a huge, huge woman. She was covered in mink fur and wore a riciculously large plumed hat. Around her neck she wore several layers of pearl necklaces, and she had five poodles on a leash. We stood there, gaping at this extravagant woman, when one of the poodles decided to take a dump. The terrified woman, realizing what it was about to do, tried to drag the poodle along, but she only succeeded in making the feces even more evident. Let us just call it a trail of evidence. Desperate, the huge woman turned around to run, and due to her size, her body fat bounced, along with her mink fur and pearl necklaces as she ran away; her hat in one hand, a gaggle of poodles in the other.

Laughing hard we entered McDonalds. We needed food quick, so we ate there, then we went back downstairs with a cheeseburger in the hand.

"@!#$ING MCDONALDS? YOU SPEND MY CASH ON @!#$ING MCDONALDS?", Scrooge screamed in fury. "You guys know what? You @!#$ing know what? You ain't gonna get a penny from me", he said. As we tried to explain him that he had promised us cash, that we were unable to pay the ticket back home, he just sneered and left. His final words: "If you are @!#$ing rich enough to spend your cash on McDonalds, you are @!#$ing rich enough to make your way back home!"

At the train station we desperately talked to a conductor. He smiled and said it was alright, and let us ride the train 292 miles / 472 kilometeres from Hamburg to Copenhagen for free. While we were sitting on the train, Scrooge came. At this point we absolutely hated him. He sat down beside us and started talking, like nothing had happened. When we arrived in Copenhagen my girlfriend and I were about to leave for my dad, who lives there, when Scrooge said: "What the @!#$ is the matter with you guys? I have to wait here for six hours! Have you guys no decency? Where is the @!#$ing love, eh? Don't leave me here alone!", then we just left, not saying a word.

Later that day we got a text message. He had been singled out at the border, and got the full anal examination routine by the doctors at the border. My girlfriend and I cheered, shared a beer and felt that Karma was on our side.

Ancient Gamer:
The Woman That Stalked Me
I often joke that modern European women needs two things to confirm their social standing: A gay best friend, and a creepy stalker.

The gay best friend proves that not only is she open minded and liberal, she is also up to date on fashion. It is one of those must have things that a self-conscious young woman just have to have, in order to be accepted and popular.

The stalker provides the young woman with a stage to perform on, as well as a means to tell her audience that most crucial of messages: I am so pretty, so alluring, that men lose their minds. It is a political correct way of saying "I am beautiful", while the gay best friend is the political correct way of saying "I am popular and politically correct".

So, here goes: I have had a bona fide, genu-wine stalker.
No, not your garden variety heartbroken lass. Not a cultural prop to reinforce my self-imagined beauty.
I am talking about a bats**t, crazy woman.

A long, long time ago. About the time I first traveled europe with Scrooge, as detailed above, my girlfriend studied at a school in the capital. One day I followed her to that school, and a young, weird woman noticed me for the first time. I noticed her too. She dressed strangely, you see; green rubber boots with the red, insulating material. She always wore a green hunter's jacket, worn jeans and dirty, unkempt light blonde hair. On her face; glasses as thick as the bottom of a glass bottle.

I did not know it, but she would be my friend wherever I went for the next six months.

And so I walked the streets, holding my dear girlfriends hands, and five steps behind me; the sound of rubber boots and sweaty feet.


One time I jumped on the bus, heading home: "Is this bus heading North?", she said. "No", the driver replied. "I am heading south". "Oh... Oh... That's okay. I can handle a detour, she said, and climbed onboard"

The Incident on the Tram
One day, my girlfriend and I were heading to her school. She was having a math exam, and what do you know, suddenly stalker girl gets on it, and she heads to the back, delighted to see me sitting there. Wordlessly she sits in the seat next to me (There was room for four at the back), on the opposite side of my girlfriend, and she just sits there.

For long we rode the tram, the silence awkward, when...


There was a loud cracking sound, the sound of gunfire, and glass rained over me. Everywhere; people screaming, some laying down, some just milling around, some halfway on their knees.

I remember everything going in slow motion. The screams were muffled, and I just sat there, frozen like an idiot, and I thought: "They have blown my brains out"

Fumbling, my hands patted my head, then my body, searching for a bullet entry wound. Finding none, I remember not daring to turn my head. I was afraid I'd see my girlfriend's head blown off, so after what seemed like an eternity, I stuttered: "Are you okay?"

"Yes", she replied, then she was cut short by stalker girl.

"That was the sound of an AG-3! I know that sound anywhere! I own myself!", she sounded ecstatic.

While everyone else were laying down, she stood up. She positioned herself in front of me, and said: "Ooooh, look. Your hair is full of glass. Let me help you"

I was in complete shock. People were screaming. She stood in front of me, and lovingly removed every piece of glass, one by one by one.

There were no more bullets that day. One months later there was another shooting episode in the exact same location. Same weapon, but this time the shooter emptied a full clip on the pedestrians of the street. He missed on all 30 bullets, and made the headlines of the newspapers.

The tram moved on, and my girlfriend had her exam. She wrote her name, then stared at the paper  for six hours. She did not solve any of the math. She did not try to explain her teacher she was in shock, since she had been shot at. No one would have believed her.

From Stalker to Disgusted in 15 minutes, the AG way
After six months I was scared, tired and worried. Not a day had gone by in which she had not trailed me for half an hour or more. I had to get rid of her. So, having read some popular psychology, I decided I would make her want to leave me (instead of telling her to go).

I walked over to her table (at the school my girlfriend and the stalker attended), and sat down.

Her eyes shone like stars. They sparkled with ecstatic joy.

"Hey!", I said.

".........hey!", she whispered.

And I proceeded to talk. I talked and I talked and I talked, and she did not get to say anything. I just talked, with an eagerness, a joy, she had never, ever experienced from me before.

The topic: diaper machines.

My brother-in-law was the most boring man in the universe. He was the lead engineer of a team servicing diaper machinery at a diaper and toilet paper factory. Always he would rant on about the quality of diaper machinery, how many thousand diapers per seconds the machines could produce, and how efficient the diapers were at absorbing menstruation blood and mucus.

I mimiced his voice, his eagerness, his passion for diapers and menstruation mucus.

In 15 minutes her eyes went from the brighest sparling gleaming, to a dulled, disgusted look, coupled with a frown.

Then she took her purse, said "Excuse me, I have to attend class", and she left.

I never saw her again.

I have nothing to share at this stage, but i just wanted to say that i am reading your anecdotes and find them interesting! Thanks for sharing and keep it up!  :wink:

Ancient Gamer:
Thanks Shadoweagle, I appreciate it.

I live in a small town, and people here have never experienced much in the way of anything out of the ordinary. Needless to say, my anecdotes were met with much sceptisiscm when I started telling my friends in this town about what had happened. Therefore I never share these stories anymore, and I have started to forget.

For instance, under the "Traveling with Scrooge, Part 1", I forgot to tell about "Party Hostel Number Four" and the events that transpired therein (Tagging on the walls, seedy locals, robbery attempt).

Which is why the web is a nice archive, for a day when my kids are a bit older and I am old and grey and sit by the fireplace, recounting tales of old.

I'll just log in here and relive the past. :)


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