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Trash-Stories

English Translation by Claudia Spinner

The Kiss of the Tram (p. 10)
Werner G.: rushrushthink "ahtheresureIstillget" neither left nor right box-nose tram Roooooooaaaaaaarshshshsbeepbeephonkicecoldhardme-talbonescrackburstsmlashthefall
 
Bar Sex (p. 14)
Harry is clutching the counter with his right hand, with the other he grips the girl tightly around the waist.
She likes the way how his bottom says "fuck!".
She is blond & already knows quite a lot.
Harry pretends to be tender. He almost lets go of his beer.
It will work out. Harry is quite sure about it.
 
Hate Them All (p. 19)
X-Ray is running through the streets: to hate everyone he meets.
The guy with the face you would gladly barf at. His wife is the usual dumb cunt, stalking around as if one whit of her was good or real. 10 meters further and he passes 1 pretty, young girl looking at him as if she liked him - but scorn immediately curls his lips: no go, woman, if you want something of me, you gotta try a little harder. I' m not big on baby cunts anyway. And the jerk behind her he feels like beating up, acting the "streetboy", the asshole. "Go take a dumb!" yells X-Ray - I don't like  men anyway. Men are basically all shit. Next a band of provincial idiots, that' s really the pits. Unbearable - X-Ray, passing, pushes one of them against the wall as if by accident, he: "Hey, what' s that for?" X-Ray, then, arranges himself in front of him, a mixture of insanity & bad energy (with a distinct motion towards the man): "Still QUESTIONS???" - the boors' heads stand on their hindlegs and creep away. That' s what I thought X-Ray declares.
The sun is shining, the bells are ringing, it is saturday & everything is just plain shit. 

Tram to the Stadium (p. 15)
Crammedcrowdedpacked.
Controls at the gates, whether you have a ticket, if so you can pass if not you have to line up & buy 1.
But you 've got 1 & so after a good while you manage to get out of the squeeze & the trams stand there, empty yet, but the hordes pour into them, take possession of the boxes, and within a short time it is so full that you can hardly stir.
Exactly then the doors close & the tram starts moving, starts her endless trip. Everyone is relieved now: we are moving…
Still it is broodingly hot, stifling & the windows don' t open: that quickly checks all activities & kills almost every talk. The people sit, fins crossed, often fat & shapeless, with dull, small eyes, review the game in their minds or whatever, look quiet, filled up, unable to move like after eating or fucking.
It stinks: sweat & someone probably has cut 1: some wake up & swear, laugh, the trams jogs along, doesn' t make much progress, if one could only get the windows open, this is... unbearable.
No kidding: the people really look like out of a freak show - pigs'  heads, pigs' guts: nowhere else you see such a collection of ugly flesh. That' s it: soccer is democratic, is there for everyone. Therefore you have to sweat now. And since the tram is still far away from the center city, nothing helps but falling back onto yourself, waiting in stupor.
And again the question, like on any trip home: Why on earth do I go through this? 20 bucks for taking in these most horrible of living human beings? - it' s better to watch the games on TV anyway. Like always there is no answer.
 
 
Walter Beats the Meat (p. 22)
Walter squeezes  into his narrow john, doesn'  t switch the light & scratches his fly. Stops, suddenly unzips his pants, pulls them down to his knees and arranges  himself above the toilet basin.
He knits his brows - the noise from the street is slightly disturbing - and concentrates. He slowly starts massaging his dick which is still half limp. But Walter doesn' t lose his cool, moves smoothly up & down, looking for an suitable object of his imagination. Who should get it today, he can have them all... the dolled up old hag from the flower stand across the street with the red hair & fat breasts? The girl from the disco recently? Or Louise from the other grade... he decides on her: Louise takes her clothes off for him, a little more quickly than in reality, but his cock is now getting hard.  Walter starts breathing harder while his bent right arm rubs rhythmically. Louise kneels in front of him & works at him with her mouth: her tongue plays with his tip, then she once more swallows his dick gliding up and down it with wet lips. Walter 's upper half bends forward, backward, twitching into strange positions. Walter is breathing through both nostrils like an ox, jerking like in a cramp, his right arm becomes  leaden & is struggling at his shaft. Louise spreads her legs, he just manages to enter before he already comes, shit, too early, can' t be helped now, squirts white fountain, splashes into the toilet bowl. Walter clears his throat, spits & flushes.
Wipes himself. Grunts. Buttons up. Leaves the toilet. 

Why You  Are Shit (p. 27)
You read this, and think it doesn' t concern you.
 
Bad Sex (p. 34)
- "Ahem, switch the light on!" - "Where? Here?" - "Uh-huh."
They already knew each other a little in passing, but tonight they got closer, i. e. after the vernissage they went with the others to the disco and were finally left over alone. Bully said: "Do you know that the only thing we have always been wanting to do is simply to fuck?" Susy nodded & said: "Yes!".
So they came here. Bully bumps into the table, he is pretty drunk. The kitchen lamp writes odd ellipsoids into the silence. "Do you want a drink?" Susy asks dutyfully, but Bully waves his hand - really isn' t necessary now. They start attending to each other, the usual foreplay, small undressing scenes. They get more and more carried away. Bully tears Susy' s Blouse open & fumbles with her breasts - she picks at his belt & finally gets it loose. Bully starts sucking her tits (first moaning), but he keeps getting hairs in his mouth, in spitting them out he starts wondering until he notices that she has got hairs on her nipples. He stops wondering now, but that somehow gets him down "hairs on the nipples", he really doesn' t know why. In the meantime she has managed to unzip his pants & milks his dick, which keeps refusing to stand up.
"Uhm, maybe somewhat drunk," mumbles Bully & she "uh-huh". She has no choice but putting it into her mouth & succeeds in getting it semi-hard. Bully thinks it' ll do now, throws her backwards onto the kitchen table & really gets it in somehow. He moves, at first still tentatively, in foreign parts, but than more familiar, more exacting, both start panting a little. Bully hits the kitchen lamp with his head, it goes "clang!" & moves forward backward light shadow across the half-naked Susy, who, jerking with her abdomen, is struggling for her orgasm. Her tits now hang down half to the left right and jiggle rhythmically with his thrusts. Bully feels how is erection starts wilting, closes his eyes and concentrates. This goes on for a while, he feels like a machine & this is indeed the case. Finally nothing goes anymore, he deflates & stays lying an Susy. They doze along for a while until she takes the initiative & mumbles: "Come on, let' s go to bed!" - Bully yawns "yeah", thinks now only of sleeping & not of waking up. 

SPEED MUSHROOMS DOPE AND BEER (p. 66)
& then the guy goes pissing, comes back & wants to know: "What' s all this about anyway?"
The Pole explains it to him: "Do you have something interesting to say for a change - then say it!"
The other, lets himself fall onto the sofa, mouth agape, crosses his arms & gaze lost nothing comes to his mind, only: "This life... I just don' t know, what this is all for..." 

Pissing (p. 84)
Outside everyone is standing around bleating drunkenly. For a short time I think of the woman I just lost, then I go back in, too.
 
What Wollie Knows (p. 83)
Wollie is a diabetic. He has been living with daily injections for 22 years.
Since November he is lying low & living at Camo' s: avoiding detention, though on probation three times caught gambling & riding the tram without a ticket.
His time is up. The pigs are waiting for him. With 2 years of jail.
At the moment he is still on holiday so-to-speak. But it could be over any minute.
"The only good thing," he says, chews his moustache & adjusts his cap, "at least I know what' s waiting for me."
 
On the Road (p. 85)
- And afterwards..."
- Well, afterwards you are dead!"
- Not I," says Parz, "I don' t care what you do. I, for my part, will be traveling. First a few thousand years horse head nebula, and then... no idea."
 
 


 
 


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