Chapter 1, Booze and Boobs
When I acted like a rich man, they started the rumor I was rich. When I feigned indifference, they classed me as the indifferent type. But when I inadvertently groaned because I was really in pain, they started the rumor that I was faking suffering. The world is out of joint.”
―Osamu Dazai, The Setting Sun
Clowning was something Johan did best. Upon reading this pathetic composition from The Setting Sun, he couldn’t resist laughing a bit when he realized how like this lonely, miserable writer was to himself. Although, one would never catch Johan publicly groaning in pain. He was aware of how the world seems to take pleasure in concealing the dark, lonely side of humanity to safeguard their sanity. Not so Strangely enough, he blended in with the sane by assuming the role of the clown that he had always been. He is a cowardly clown unable to remove his repulsive makeup, much as he was cowardly amid an erection when he was let go from his prior employment and ended up in this little role As a small professor at the blasted University. It paid well, Last night Johan drank until the crack of dawn remembering and remembering that awful day when he had been fired. It was a miracle at all that he’d come to school with his senses intact. And every day he wished he hadn’t come at all. For his lectures, he had been assigned the worst room; the lights were dark where he stood, the walls were ancient, constantly flaking with chipping paint, his desk was uneven and gave him splinters, and the damp, musky air from the residue made him sweat excessively. and worst of all, the unappreciative brats living off daddy’s money whose names and faces he never bothered to memorize.
” Professor Lee, you haven’t answered my question” his thoughts were interrupted by an unpleasant voice from somewhere in the classroom.
“Oh yes, repeat that for me please”
”Never mind”
“Adelheid, if you say so,” he answered. Soft laughter filled the lecture hall. They dared to scoff at him when they could hardly produce a paper worth his salt, which provoked an unexplainable rage and dread in Johan. Their writing talent amounted to the same as his pay; fruitless. He turned to the chalkboard and curled his brown, sweat-stained hair with his fingertips, as he was writing the homework reading for the next class, a sweet but chilling voice called out to him from the highest area of the lecture hall.
”professor, you haven’t collected our papers yet, the ones from last class”
” Oh, oh right thank you ms”
” Sofie”
”Yes Sofie thank you” It seems that Johan was forgetting everything today, it was a sign to stop drinking the night before work. Again.
”Okay everyone, on your way out leave your paper on my desk,” Johan said as he dusted his dry hands smothered with chalk. Scratching his scruffy unkempt beard, he glanced back and forth at Sofie and the students constantly at the students giving them a nod and flashing an anxious smile as they walked out. which to his knowledge may have crept them out. The last one to leave was no other than Sofie, her black heels clicking down the lecture hall steps, as she walked down.
Johan noticed her long legs and petite frame—she was no taller than 5′6" quite normal for people of her age group, but she was taller than Johan who was relatively shorter than his peers around him, he had long dark brown hair which desperately needed a trim, that fell infront of his eye which avoided any contact which in addition to his shortness which made him seem even more unserious to look at. The only serious thing about Johan was how seriously he dressed, always in a white dress shirt and black trousers. Looking up from the bottom, he inspected her; a habit from his old job. And then he observed that her walk was odd, some odd unearthly gravitational pull, caused her hips to swing side to side like a pendulum, her shoulders violently dropping with each step that she took.
How aggressive, quite in a way, less than ordinary, that stride is. Johan thought to himself.
His eyes made their way up to her breasts and he took notice of how satisfactorily, and well-shaped her torso was. Her breast frame looked as though they were sculpted by the sculptor Praxiteles himself. They reminded him of a pair he was well familiar with.
No, no, she’s a student here that’s not right, and they’re not the same. But oh how well-shaped her torso is..oh no, damn it all hurry up and leave!
clack… clack.
clack.
Johan leaned forward, gripping the hard rough edges of the desk, with his head down. He looked up, taking notice of her long dark brown hair, it was so dark, that her pale skin stood out.
He stood hopeless and erect.
He glanced up, and down. back and forth, to and fro between the wall, the floor, his desk, at her, and finally his eyes met the door. He wondered what would happen if someone passed by and read his thoughts, if they knew that a professor was admiring the shape of his student’s torso, what would they think?
his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes became buckeyed with these impure thoughts.
CLACK.
Johan’s head swung back at the sound of her heels. She appeared before him locking eyes, she never blinked, not once, keeping him prisoner to her stare.
”My paper professor,” she jeered. Johan took this time to make note of her face. She had deer-like eyes, accompanied by the ugliest freckles and unruly petite lips that would curl into a jeering smile, almost mocking him. He disliked her face with
“ Thank you, Sofie”
Most mockingly, she said, ” You always seem lost professor, sometimes I wonder what you’re thinking about”
“ Haha, I wonder” Johan gripped the desk edges harder
“or is it.. you’re drunk again?”
”what? again? Mind your own business, and how would you know- ”
”just messing with you, messing with you, you just seem out of it that’s all “
Sofie left the classroom, leaving Johan flabbergasted. Staring at her back, he finally released his hands from his desk, he could finally relax. He looked down at his erectness then at the door, and let out a deep sigh.
“ I need a drink”
Johan grabbed the papers, and the cigarettes from the drawer of his desk and went home, back to his run-down apartment located behind the university. He left the building, made his way to the main road, and called a taxi.
A yellow taxi came and
”Perkeo apartments please”
“ Ja” the taxi driver replied(yes in German)
” Sir, can I light one up?”
”I don’t mind, but open the windows”
Johan took out his cherry Marlboro cigarettes, shoved one out of the packet, and held it between his lips, “ja” he muttered. He took out a packet of matchboxes, rolled down the windows, and lit the matchstick and cigarette. The smell of cherry and smoke filled the taxi, but quickly disappeared into the streets. Johan finally felt at peace. the taxi driver put on the radio, it was the news station.
“Two people have been reported missing for 3 days, the police have no leads so far, but have confirmed two things, that they two were both male and students of the Heidelberg University, and enough evidence to be kidnapped by the same person”
Jhon’s interest was piqued and turned toward the radio, Curling the hair strand infront of his head.
How did they come to that, Johan wondered, if they were not going to reveal anything about why they were kidnapped by the same person, then it wouldn’t make sense s be revealing such misleading information there was more, this lady was just too slow.
“There’s similar pieces of remaining evidence left at both scenes where the students were taken”
Now we’re getting somewhere. Johan thought
“Come, lady, what is it, stop edging me already, be a good girl and spit it out now”, Johan whispered under his breath
“At both scenes, pieces of particular paper holding writing suspected pieces of notes, that were reported to be in Czech, the police are hiring translators to further investigate”
What did it say? What did it say? Johan pondered, shaking his legs and inhaling the smoke.
“Now onto the weather”
Johan scoffed under his breath
“Boner killer lady”
Johan could see the concerned stares the taxi driver shot at him through the mirror after he said that.
“Looks like the police got a lot on their hands ”
Johan ignored this commentary made by the driver, he was not in the mood for small talk about this kidnapping ordeal. Not with this driver at the very least, after all, he was not a detective anymore. That’s right. He’s not a detective anymore; he lost the rights to that label a long time ago, there was no reason to ponder about a case with no relation to him,
”Come to think of it, I saw you leave the university just now. Are you a professor”
Johan inhaled his cigarette before answering ” Yes, you’re right, I’m a professor, I teach the English studies course, but I was a detective before. I worked closely with the police.” John released a mouthful of smoke.
“Wow, what a downgrade! Haha just messing with you ”
It seemed like everyone felt like messing with Johan today. He held in the urge to kick the driver’s seat, grabbing his hair back, opening his mouth, and using his tongue as his ashtray, so he’d never utter anything like that ever again. He chuckled to himself at the thought of his ugly face being stretched out like a hyena. But quickly after lighting another cigarette, this feeling dissolved. After all, happiness is short. He laid back staring sultry through the window, admiring the busy streets, the children and their mothers walking hand In hand, and young couples mingling. It reminded him of the woman in his past, the woman he loved, Once upon a time when he had everything. Johan inhaled once more.
“Alright, prof is this it?”
”Yes, yes, this is it, thank you. ”
Johan paid the taxi fare, grabbed his files, and closed the door behind him, he wouldn’t have to go through any of the driver’s foolish questions, he felt free once more.
“Oh and, prof, you may want to watch your back, you heard the radio, kidnappings are happening here, not even a man as old as you are safe. Haha just messing with you”
Johan clenched his fists, biting into his cigarette, nodding, and forcing his lips into the most insincere smile.
“Good day to you”
The taxi driver drove off into the main road. Johan felt free once more, he entered the brown and cream apartments and went straight to his room, Johans room was, in a simple word, messy. It was unkempt as though someone died in his room and left their belongings behind. But this is how Johan liked It. He often referred to it as a strategic mess. It was his mess, and he felt comfortable in it as long as he could eat, shit, drink, smoke, and sleep all day every day, he was a happy man. It didn’t matter how it looked, no one in their right mind would want to come in anyway. To the right, there was a bed with sheets spread, however the floor couldn’t be seen. It was filled with papers, and books of all sorts from George Orwell to Japanese authors to Jane Eyre. Some were pornography magazines scattered with girls of all different ages, nationalities, and poses. Johan did not have the space for a bookshelf but kept things accessible and right where he wanted them. Although it may have looked messy, Johan knew everything he had an exceptional ability in memory, he knew where everything was, and if something other than him had been moved, he’d know straight away no matter how drunk he was that day. He stepped out of the doorway, without his shoes on, and walked all over the books on the floor. He quickly went to the tiny cabinet where he stored his liquor. As much as he loved books, he only bought a cabinet for his liquor. The school paid well, so as long as he could have his liquor he’d be fine.
Johan opened the cabinet scanning “Okay, here we go, Vodka, gin whiskey, scotch, which one of you beautiful ladies want some of me? let’s take it easy”
Johan grabbed the warm beer can from the cabinet, scanning it, but paused for a moment returned it to the bottom shelf, and grabbed the Ballantine scotch whiskey instead.
“Those piss-for-brains at school gave me a hard time I deserve a date with Ms. Ballentine. Yeah that’s right, where are they going to find someone like me again right Ms Balentine?” John asked the whiskey bottle. He turned around grabbed a glass, and shut the cabinet behind him. He slipped open the balcony door and closed it behind him with his feet before settling into his chair. The newspaper was on the round table to his right, waiting for him since this morning. Now that he wasn’t so drunk anymore (and is about to again), he could finally enjoy the papers. He placed his scotch on the table opened the papers with the right hand and took a sip from the left. After reading the first several pages of the document, he didn’t find anything particularly interesting. Petty theft here and there, politics that bored him out of his skull. He flipped through the pages like a pirate looking for treasure. Johan noticed some columns on the sixth page with writing, which he wholeheartedly enjoyed since, in reality, the seemingly disagreeable Johan enjoyed reading the column writer’s bad writing and awful opinions. He found them miserable since they barely had received a spot in the papers and, more likely, no attention, but he made them feel like they weren’t alone. One was a critique on what to wear for your first date, one was about some lonely old man who shared his boring hobbies with uninterested strangers, titled “My Simple Days” Johan laughed as he read this, picturing an old virgin man writing about his love of crocheting and feeding the ducks at the local pond.
“As lonely as I am, you’d never catch me sharing my business, I won’t even share my liquor, these people are seriously doing the most”
As Johan measly skimmed through the contents of the rest of the newspaper, a certain column caught his attention, it was called “Nàvrat do společnosti”. He couldn’t read Czech but recognized the word “return", he did not know how he recognized it, or where his knowledge of Czech came from but was too drunk to go deeper into it. The title drew his attention because it was unusual to see a header in Czech, much less in a newspaper of all places.The content, however, was in German; he had no idea why it was written this way, but it was certainly effective in capturing his attention. The content read.
Everything is in a chain
I will be reborn again and again
Who will be my sacrificial lamb?
Life goes on
Blood spread like jam.
-Belladonna
A Belladonna is a breathtakingly beautiful woman. This poem fit her name, it was so beautifully written with such great simplicity. This did not stand out in any way in comparison to the Noir literature which was in style at the time. Kafka and Fyodor amongst many others. However, something about it evoked a terrible and frightening sensation; perhaps it was love, as love, to Johan, was so frighteningly sweet. After reading this, he felt as if he’d willingly be her sacrificial lamb and sin eater if this woman read it to him, or any person of the female gender. Maybe he was already so drunk, which brought upon this feeling, or maybe he was so lonely, that he’d want anyone and anything close to a woman to need him, perhaps for once in his life he’d be needed for something, and he would prove himself useful even if it was for sacrifice. Johan closed the newspaper and drank until the sun couldn’t be seen any longer.
The next morning he woke up hungover, so hungover he’d forgotten all about the frightening poem he read yesterday evening, so hungover he had forgotten that he had school that morning. They had no time to take a shower, smelling foul was the least of his problems, it was the last thing on his mind. Not showering for days and days was something he was accustomed to because of his old job. He sprung out of bed, grabbed his work briefcase, re-wearing the same blouse and trousers as yesterday, and bolted out of the door. The streets were busy, and it was hard to grab a taxi but with the determination he had. He chased after the first one he saw, yelling and waving his arms, and barely managed to catch the driver’s attention. The taxi stopped in front of the apartments next door, and Johan peeped through the window, panting and sweat all over his body and unshaved beard,
“The Heidelberg University please,” he said out of breath. The taxi driver nodded in response, and Johan opened the door catching his breath, wondering if this was the time to stop drinking. The traffic was slightly hefty, as they approached the entry road for the university. Sirens were wailing, and cars labeled POLIZEI were surrounding a particular area in front of the school. The sound of camera clicking could be heard and the large talkativeness of the crowd, shouting and yelling at the top of their voice. Johan peeked outside of the window curious as to why they were moving
“What’s the commotion?”
“Seems like people are crowding around something, there’s even press and police”
“Let me off here sir”, Johan patted the shoulder of the taxi driver, handing him his fare. His eyes did not leave the scene this entire time as he left the car. He ran up to the scene, where the officers stopped him and he was frantic.
“We cannot allow you any further,” the officer said sternly
“It’s okay I am a professor here” Johan fumbled for his identification card in his worn-out pocket and showed the officer who to him looked similar to a string bean at the time because of his drunken phase, all he could pick up was his dark hair and most extraordinary lines showing his worn-out face revealing the horrors of his work he has seen. Despite appearing tired and hungover, the officer allowed him through. When Johan saw the situation in front of him, he felt himself sobering up. He could feel hot, boiling fluids from the previous night’s activities filling the voids in his mouth. The aroma and flavor of whisky filled his mouth, seeping out from the corners. And to think that his position as a detective would have protected him from such horrors, but no amount of training or detective work could have prepared him for what he witnessed next.
