I’d like to tell you a spooky story that is buried deep down in my shady past. When I was 16 I fell in love with a girl named Rita Anna Klara Rosa. (We used to call her just Rita. Shorter, you know.) She took me to visit their sooo cool friends in Erlangen, which is a small, old little village in Franconia. The couple we met were constantly fighting with each other – at about 120 decibel – but declared (knowing me for about half an hour) that I was completely unfit to be with Rita because I had an agressive, sarcastical undertone in everything I said…
They showed us around town. Dinner was awful: We had about 5 dozens of cold Nürnberger Bratwürste. These are made out of the fat of dead pigs, stuffed in dead sheep’s intestines and traditionally scorched in lard, which is another fat of dead pigs by itself. Then we went home to their completely unfurnitured appartment, listened to Emmerson, Lake and Palmer music until three o’clock in the morning and drank cheap red wine out of a huuuge bottle. No drinking vessels whatever.
Before Rita and me fell asleep on the floor our hosts told us that the house we all slept in has been a whorehouse for centuries.
And guess what – these poor, abused souls were said to be haunting the house and its guests! ‘Yes, we experience this every night’, the odd couple told us with the pride of a true heir.
I didn’ sleep well that night. Nope.
How glad would I have been if the personal computer was already invented! And Al Gore had already devised the Internet! And I would have known the URL of the Ghost Hunter Store! An K II-EMF detector, a dual non contact air probe thermometer, an infrared motion detector, a red lens filter kit for my AA maglite flashlights and a sony cybershot digital camera would have saved the day! I mean the night. No, I mean my love interest.
Burp.
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