Die Gebrauchstauglichkeit Trip -German version of The jogge

[mccutcheon]

Die Gebrauchstauglichkeit Trip
(German Version of The Jogger Who Ran Away)
For Martino
By McCutcheon

“Waaaaaaahhhh,� wailed the baby continuously.

“Can't you keep him quiet, please?� The (mann) man asked with utter annoyance. To him it seemed the baby had been crying since he returned from work. He would never ask his (frau) wife how long the baby was actually crying, and she wouldn't know the exact answer, but she would say it seemed the baby had been crying all day.

“I'm doing the best that I can.� The woman answered. She didn't understand her husband's coldhearted disregard. Babies cry as a call of nature. It was her duty to answer with nurture. Though on some days it did get too much. It seemed the baby had been crying all day and she got fed up of course, but she never took out baby duty frustrations on her husband, though lately she had been getting close. She wanted to scream.

“I'm going for a run.� He said defiantly. He was already mostly dressed in immaculate running gear. Clean and pressed apparel with no sweat stains and especially no baby drool or baby food dribble. As soon as he returned the clothes would go into the washing machine on ‘express cycle'. He was fastidious with his work out garments.

“You went running this morning before work.� She answered exasperated. She had been on her feet for ten hours doing chores and taking care of the numerous baby needs. She was hoping for a little relief when he returned home.

“I need to relax.� He said getting ready for his strenuous run. He started doing calisthenics; he stretched his calves, quads, and groin. He didn't want a pulled muscle to keep him from his fitness.

“Can't you just have a beer and a cigarette like a normal man?� She asked as a snide joke. She added a sly smile to reinforce the playfulness of her words and reduce the bitterness. The attempted jest was lost on the man. He stared at her sternly and took the statement at face value without humor or jollity.

“I would never subject my body to those poisons. Physical health is directly related to mental health.� The man left and let the door slam.

“Yes dear,� she conceded. She said it to the closed door. Then she turned to the baby. The baby smiled at her, he had stopped crying. The woman set the air conditioning to its highest level. She knew how he hated to return to a chilly apartment. He believed it was detrimental to go from outside exercise to a contained cool environment. She had been engaging in climate control terrorism the last few months.

His wife, who had given birth to their son less than a year ago, was already six months pregnant again. The miracle of childbirth had taken its toll. The woman had lost her figure. What was once an athletic hourglass was now pear-shaped expansionism. Long trim toned limbs had been replaced with flabby stretch marks. With the new baby on the way the wife was bloated like a beach ball and also suffered constipation and hemorrhoids. The man needed to get away.

The man had grown to despise his wife. She was once a fit young woman who enjoyed physical recreational activity both of the outdoor variety and the bedroom romp. Now sex was purely function and duty, the cause and effect needed to raise a family. A family was needed to keep up appearances in social and economic surroundings. At the firm it's widely acknowledged that you don't make partner without at least two children.

Out on the street the man meticulously re-laced his running shoes, double tying them into firm knots. He also double-checked the sheer pressed shorts and shirt against his rock hard body. Then he started his run. Half a mile in, at a normal divergence of the trail, he took the left path for the first time. He had read that the left passage was overgrown and not well kept. The reason he took the left path that fateful day had less to do with Robert Frost and more to do with Svenja Reizsaftsack. It was rumored she also took that route. Svenja Reizsaftsack was single and a yoga instructor who lived a few doors down in the same (eigentumswohnung) condominium. Svenja Reizsaftsack was a naturalist who ran off country through the brush in little more than tiny socks and petite shoes.

The man was running with even more effort than normal. He hoped to impress Svenja Reizsaftsack when their paths crossed. He was on the look out for her. He didn't watch his step. When he tripped over a root and struck his head on a rock and fell into a ravine no one saw or heard what happened. Not even Svenja Reizsaftsack who ran past in the opposite direction just seconds later totally oblivious, wearing more than the tiny socks and petite shoes; she also wore sunglasses and a Walkman.

The wife wasn't a widow for long. She remarried a man who consoled her at the funeral. They had known each other from high school. The new husband had been harboring a childhood crush he never lost. They had dated as teenagers but when she went to (universitat) university on a track and field scholarship they no longer ran in the same circles. He got a job instead of an education. He worked hard and also worked his way up the executive ladder. He is now the CEO of the most successful sporting goods manufacturing company in Bavaria.

Both of the children grew up thinking of their stepfather as their father. They don't even remember their real dad. The wife is glad her second husband is the only authority figure her children ever knew. He dotes on them and introduces the kids to the mighty Bayern Munich players. The second husband is overweight and jolly. He drinks steins of (bier) beer like King Ludwig the first and smokes and makes the woman laugh. He never goes running and loves to fuck his wife.

[mccutcheon]

Well Martino I wrote this for you and your wife- a joke on German traslation, like beir=beer, but maybe I didn't spend enough time on it (I'm bangin' out over 1,000 words a day on Burnt novel.) Sloth thinks it's crap. But what the hell does he know? Right!

[martino]

i like the name reizsaftsack, which is a pretty cool invention, albeit unpronounceable. "stimulated juicy testicals", my goodness.

us krauts do have some weird-ass names sometimes -- in fact, i once met a guy called carl fucker (karl ficker) and, come to mention it, a girl in high school i knew was named catherine ramhole (katrin rammloch). not that i went out with her, anyway.