Da sieht man mal wieder, wie das ist, wenn die unsichtbare Hand des Marktes nicht lenkend eingreifen und die Dinge richten kann, die im Argen liegen.
Meine lyrischen Beiträge hier sind bisher immer auf ein sehr verhaltenes Echo gestoßen, um nicht zu sagen, keiner wollte sowas. Aber weil mir das herzlich egal sein kann, gibt es heute wieder einen, und er ist sogar noch viel länger als alles, was hier jemals von der überwältigenden Mehrzahl der Leser verschmäht wurde, und zu allem Übel gibt es das Ganze auf Wunsch auch von mir gelesen. Freut euch auf
[überarbeitet 2021, dies ist die neue Version.]
Hier habe ich das Ganze auch noch mal für euch vorgelesen, live on tape sozusagen:
Another day here at my desk,
another call for me.
another day in this qrotesque
office I can’t flee.
Someone has some kind of complaint,
I tell them a way out.
I show remarkable restraint
when they start to shout.
I calm them down and make a joke,
And they laugh along.
They call me an amusing bloke,
I don’t tell them that they’re wrong.
Stan has been standing by my side,
with the next ignorant question,
waiting impatiently as I tried
to suppress mounting aggression.
I hate this job, I hate this guy,
hate everything I see.
I hate this place, there’s none where I
would not rather be.
But most of all I hate my boss,
Her eyes the colour of a bruise.
Glossy hair like chocolate sauce,
My car was cheaper than her shoes.
„Thank you, Zed, I owe you one!“
The guy puts down his phone.
I do the same and look at Stan,
his issue yet unkown.
“What can I do you for?” I ask,
and while I hear him talk
I see that, though in light he’s basked,
he has no shadow, and I gawk.
“I wondered whether you would like
to join us for a drink.”
“Us who?” I ask. “Just me and Mike.”
“Give me some time to think.”
I stare upon the woolly floor,
immaculate beneath his soles,
I need to be completely sure
Before I shoot him full of holes.
I glance into my monitor,
which is now black and dark,
and though still just an amateur,
I’m sure I have my mark.
Neither shadow nor reflection
can be seen of Stan,
and despite his misdirection,
I know he’s not a man.
Vampires, as I’m sure you’ve heard,
are real and everywhere.
They’re powerful but can be hurt,
if you take special care.
Killing Vampires is an art,
they are quite hard to get.
You have to hit them in their heart
If you really want them dead.
Forget your garlic, crosses, stakes,
that stuff is without use.
Buy a big gun, make no mistakes,
or you are bound to lose.
Stan is losing patience fast,
so I get on my feet.
I have found my chance at last,
my fist vampire. Neat!
I get up and get my gun,
He just stares at me, surprised.
Then I know that I have won
before he’s even realized
that I am not another sheep
for him to slaughter and devour.
Because I am packing heat
and he will die within the hour.
I shoot him, and he just says: “Ow!”
and falls. My heart aflutter,
I can see his shadow now.
“Well. Fancy that”, I mutter.
He fell, but did not fall to dust.
I am quite disappointed
as I watch with faint disgust
his shirt, with blood anointed.
“Well, who is next?” I shout out loud,
as Mike enters the room.
He is a vampire, too, no doubt,
and my gun his doom.
The bullet takes him in the chest,
just like his undead friend.
I watch with detached interest,
as he comes to an end.
When I look up, there’s Diane Bumbles,
my supervisor, mouth agape.
“Zed – what – why- whaa?” she mumbles.
Her lips the roundest shape.
“What happened?” she asks, sounding hoarse.
I like her, she’s a nice one, but
I have to shoot her, too, of course,
She mustn’t have my blood!
The saddest thing I ever saw,
after my bullet struck her,
she sinks sobbing to the floor,
I almost want to hug her.
She looks so sad and disenchanted,
as always when she looked at me.
Her eyes are still wide open, haunted,
and now they will forever be.
I laugh, though there is nothing funny,
but I feel weirdly free.
Her blood flows thick, like buckwheat honey.
Vampire’s blood, you see?
Some time, I just watch the pool spread,
then hear advancing steps.
To where Diane quietly bled,
approach two sales reps.
Now they are vampires, not doubt.
I needn’t even check.
I almost hear them think about
My tasty, tasty neck.
I had ten bullets in my gun,
now seven still remain.
I jump out and I scream: “Come on!”
and blow out Justine’s brain.
Quentin screams and begs and cries,
and asks me for compassion.
I look at his and Justine’s ties,
Both of latest fashion.
I look at him, and then I smile,
gun now turned sideways.
And in executioner style,
I shoot his lying face.
Now Kara Hyrse arrives, the boss.
She stares at all the dead,
then looks at me, she’s at a loss.
“Pray what happened, Zed?”
“I found you out!” I cry and beam,
and lift the gun to shoot
Your turn to take one for the team,
You monster in a suit.
“Why have you killed them all?” she asks,
showing me her palms,
showing the kindest of her masks,
to aggravate my qualms.
Seems like she could not hurt a fly,
all open and sincere
In her expensive suit and tie,
fighting back a tear.
Looks like she mourns for those I killed
Like a human being.
Like she abhors the blood I spilled,
and grieves at what she’s seeing.
But I am not fooled; not I!
They’re monsters all, I know!
Aiming at her heart, I cry:
“Die now, carrion crow!”
I see the bullet hit her chest,
and I know: That’s it.
I got them all, I am the best.
Every round a hit.
But what is that? Hyrse merely sneers.
Did I miss a shot?
Something went wrong, as it appears.
No matter, I’ve still got
Three rounds. Enough to reach my goal.
I shoot another one.
Again, I see it tear a hole.
Again, she still comes on.
She looks around, unrolls her tongue
Yuck! What can this be?
It’s thick and red and awful long.
She sniffs and looks at me.
“It’s not that easy”, she declares,
her eyes the colour of a bruise.
She grabs me, arms strong as a bears’,
Blood on her expensive shoes.
“Real monsters die real hard.
Pick whom you try to kill.
Fighting vampires is an art
far beyond your skill.”
I look into her cold, dead face,
she is pale as a ghost.
Behind her eyes a vast, dark space.
Fuck me, I think. I’m toast.