Just another day in Denmark
The sun descended during the later afternoon and I just grabbed a bus from the airport in Kastrup on my journey to the inner city of Copenhagen, eager to absorb the spectacular view of Danish nature on the way. I peered out the window to admire the agricultural landscape and saw a flock of vivid sparrows rise from the bushes. The bus drove past a lake in a swamp with a pair of mute swans and lots of mallards. I just emptied my can of Pepsi. Such beverages were actually not allowed to be consumed in the bus, but I was pardoned by the kind busdriver whose bushy beard reminded me of Abraham Lincolm.
The seat next to me had been vacant until now but then it was taken by an elderly woman whose low cut blouse revealed that she only had one great tit left. She had clearly not noticed that this was a zone of no smoking but I dared not ask her to stop. The woman suddenly opened a large book with no warning, which initially seemed to have no titel, but it was just too small and inconspicuous to read. It was apparently called, "The big book about lesbian horse stories". I am not once to judge people on their aberrant affinities, but once she began to groan in public as if she was having some sort of super orgasm, it made me feel queasy. I tried to distract the woman from her carnal desires by starting a casual conversation, so I asked, "what do you think of my new shirt", to which she promptly replied, "it makes you look like you want to get fucked in the ass". Screw that, I thought, she is beyond redemption.
Then the bus picked up a young and beautiful girl with a well chiseled body, who wore a shirt which read "no entry" on the back with an arrow pointing down towards her ass. Her perky little boobs looked like supasweet onions. My fascination of her assets was interrupted as I unintentionally eavesdropped to a queer conversation between the two gentlemen seated behind me who probably were anti-semetic. One guy asked, "do we have a Nazi flag somewhere?" and the other guy surprisingly responded, "what does a Nazi flag look like?". He must have lived under a rock for a few centuries.
Finally the bus stopped in the inner city of Copenhagen and I thought the madness was over, but shortly after stepping out of the vehicle, I was approached by a lunatic with a loaded submachine gun who wanted my wallet. He shouted to the top of his lungs, "hand me the motherfucker, bitch", but I disobediently said, "up Uranus!". I spontaneously grabbed someone's plate from the nearby café with leftover pearl onions and russet potatoes and tossed it violently at the criminal. The plate hit his wrist and made him drop the gun, and once unarmed, he was intimidated by my exertion of power and fled. I triumphantly retrieved a pack of Ayds from my pocket, flicked a piece into my mouth and thought, "just another day in Denmark. These bitches can't handle a bad ass American, though".
Kasper Hjorth and Emma Nørgaard
The piece starts out relatively tame, but sure escalates fast into what can best be described as an action-filled comic book-type story - more related to fiction than to travel writing as strictly non-fictional prose. I wonder if the persona of the American abroad could not have been introduced a little earlier and some warning could have been given to the reader that he is not a terribly reliable narrator?
ReplyDeleteThe ingredients were largely well-integrated - if not always naturalized fully. Abe Lincoln, the lipstick and the no entry sign were particularly successful. And tits are always good fun bird names to use!
It did slowly dawn on me what the list of ingredients were to be used for, yet to have everything incorporated in the produced text was honestly quite a challenge, and thus a neat exercise to practice the sense of naturalness. Tough but rewarding. Truth be told, the serene atmosphere did indeed plummet rather quickly into a vortex of lewdness and drama, but as one who relies solely on transporation with bus, I can confirm that this is a nearly accurate depiction of what people may encounter on their travels in Denmark. Honest. Alright, perhaps it was mildly exxagerated. Just a little. Your feedback makes me wonder, perhaps the reference to Abraham Lincolm would have a greater effect if we had revealed earlier that the protagonist was an American visitor. If we were to revise this little story further, I'd probably want to focus a little more on the contextual structure. I am really glad that we did manage to get some things right though!
DeleteYes, make sure we know the prot. is American as soon as possible in the piece!
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