Weekend Quickie #119 (Sunday edition)

Cat aerobics


2 Germans eating Squid

 250 words


5 thoughts on “Weekend Quickie #119 (Sunday edition)

  1. Alwin felt underdressed in his best shirt. The invitation had taken him by surprise.
    “So, zou vant to marry my daughter?” Mr. Hass got straight to the point.
    “Yes, sir.”
    “And zou grew up in America?”
    “Yes, but I am a German at heart,” he grinned.
    “Shtop slouching!”
    Alwin jerked upright.
    “Zou eat gum?”
    “Vat do zou do?”
    “I am a cat aerobics trainer. I have always been fond of cats.”
    His speech met a cold stare.
    ‘Why did I have to tell him that I love cats?’ Alwin thought.
    The waiter arrived looking better dressed than Alwin.
    “Order,” Mr. Hass commanded.
    “How about some brats? With potato salad?” Alwin thought he couldn’t go wrong. Germans love sausages.
    “Brats?” another cold stare.
    “Brat…… Bratwrusts… BratwRUSTS!” Alwin almost yelled.
    The waiter looked down at him.
    “Two calamari,” Mr. Hass told the waiter.
    Alwin gulped.
    A long and awkward silence followed. Alwin couldn’t stop himself from fidgeting. Mr. Hass’s face was a mask.
    The waiter arrived with the squid.
    “Zou know Alvin, ve are vat ve eat,” Mr. Hass began when the waiter left.
    At Alwin’s blank look, he continued, “Our body sheds off zee dead cells. Ve get new cells from vat ve eat. So, ve are vat ve eat.”
    They ate silently.
    “Have zou ever eaten a human, Alvin? I mean, apart from shwallowing zour tongue dead cells?”
    Alwin’s eyes grew wide.
    “No? Vat a pity!”
    Alwin’s food spilled all over his shirt.

  2. Hans and Lothar chewed through the ‘International Meal of the Day’ in their canteen, a disgusting mix of squid and crackers.
    “What is zis crap, Hans? Where are zee Bratwurst sausages?” grimaced Lother, struggling with a particularly rubbery piece of seafood.
    “Zay haf to try something new. Today is zee seafood, zee ‘Deep Fried Squid in Cracker Crumbs vid Anchovy Mayonnaise’. That is vhat is say on zee menu,” replied Hans,
    “Why are vee speaking in zis stupid English accent, Hans? Vee are Germans.”
    “Because vee are characters in von of crazy Dani J Caile’s Weekend Quickies, zat is vhy,” replied Hans, moving the seafood around his plate.
    “Ah-ha, zee Quickie, zat is funny. But vat are zees?” Lother lifted up some of the crackers with his fork. “Zee Treats und Snacks for cats is better than zis!”
    “Oh, Temptations! Yah, zey are gut. These are not,” stated Hans.
    They looked across the tables and everyone had the same problem, playing with the food, complaining, chucking their paper plates filled with food into the bin.
    “Yah, yah, Temptations. Zat video vas very entertaining, zee von vid der cat aerobics… ugh,” said Lothar, trying to pull out a piece of meat from between his teeth,
    “Lothar, we haf a cat in zee company. There, zer he is!” A cat strolled through the room. “Throw him some of zis, maybe he vill like it.”
    Lothar threw some squid at the cat, who sniffed it and walked away.
    “Zat pussy… is a wuzzy.”

  3. Pushing through the front doors, I stepped into Die Matschig Hund, the new German pub uptown, and was greeted by a wall of commotion, and revelry. The place was jumpin’. Many were dressed in Lederhosen, and the Bavarian music was blaring away full blast. Beer was flowing from the tap like a mountain spring at winter’s thaw, and the smell of fresh baked pretzels filled air.

    A crowd had collected by the bar where several men were engaged in a competition to drink a yard of beer faster than anyone else. Some folk were feasting upon Bratwurst and sauerkraut. Some looked to be stuck in to a plate of Hasenpfeffer. There were even two German men stuffing down what looked to be fried squid. I asked them about that. They said they’d picked up the tradition in Japan as few years ago. Humph, oh well.

    Turning my attention to the back of the room, where there seemed to be games in progress, I witnessed the most professional skills I’d ever seen in the playing of darts. There were chess boards, and checkers, some were playing cards, for money of course, and some were squeezing out toe tapping tunes on genuine old time accordions; in spite of the fact that the music from up front was cranked up so loud.

    Then I saw a small group of Frauleins dancing in unison, and holding a cat in each hand. I asked the man next to me about that. “Cat aerobics!” he shouted.

    Raising an eyebrow, I leaned over the bar and ordered a beer.

  4. The German Conspiracy
    Danielle Lee Zwissler
    “The damn Cat is doing aerobics again!” Myron yelled. He was always yelling something crazy. Last week he bitched about how Eliot, our cat, was teasing him by watching him while he ate a sandwich. To say Myron was paranoid was an understatement.
    I walked into the room and looked at Eliot. He was the cutest little furball in the world. He reminded me of Grumpy Cat. I grinned. Eliot stretched his back high and stuck his butt close to Myron’s face. I had to hold back a laugh, until I saw Myron’s.
    “What are you laughing at?”
    “Your face.”
    “You’d have a face like this, too, if you had to deal with that pesky feline of yours. I swear she just lives to taunt me.”
    “Myron, it’s because it’s too easy to do. What’s on the agenda for today?”
    Myron sighed. “I thought we’d go down to GermanFest for a few hours, maybe pick up a bratwurst, listen to some music.”
    I grinned. “That sounds great! I’ll get ready now.”
    Thirty minutes later…
    The festival was awesome. The night was clear, and my ever paranoid Myron had a frown on his face.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I can’t eat lunch here.”
    “Why not?” I asked. The town smelled wonderful. Everything had a tasty scent, including the beer shacks lined up and down the midway.
    “Look over there. Those men!”
    I looked to where Myron was pointing and saw two German men having a grand old time.
    “Yeah, so?”
    “They’re eating Squid!”
    I laughed. “Really?”
    “Yes! We can’t eat here. Two German men should be eating Bratwurst! Who comes to a GermanFest and eats Squid! It’s a conspiracy I tell you, a conspiracy!”
    “Okay, Myron.” I sighed, and realized that I should have known better than to even come down here in the first place.  

  5. The cat crouched behind a barrel in the darkened storeroom, eyeing the bratwurst across the room hanging on the far wall. Between the cat and the bratwurst were two German men eating squid, their plates piled high, and mumbling to each other between large, slurpy bites.

    The cat eyed the Germans warily, wondering if they would be able to stop him once he really got going for the bratwurst, and he decided to risk it. He started at a crouching run, acting like a wild cat, claws scrabbling on the stone floor, and the first of the two men noticed him and shouted, “Oi, stop that cat! He’s going for the sausages!”

    His buddy leapt out of his chair, a half a squid hanging from out of his mouth, and he tried to catch the cat, but the cat was too fast for him. The cat zoomed past him, and raced up the wall, using his momentum to get him to reach the required height. He embedded a claw into one of the bottom bratwurst sausages and hung there for a second, squirming and doing crazy cat calisthenics as he writhed, trying to loosen the bottom link of sausage.

    It finally came free, half shredded, and the cat ran out the door with the link, the fat German on his tail. However, the cat got away, and the man went back to his table, shaking his head and swearing about darned animals stealing their stores. His buddy laughed at him.

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