Tuesday, October 4th, 2011

I realized the Nazis were coming for us when their dogs emerged from the edge of the woods. There were three of them, bone-thin, long-haired frou-frou dogs, the kind that look like eels on stilts, and they snaked their way towards us with a practiced nonchalance, as if they weren’t the scariest things on earth and we didn’t have a thing to worry about, not that we had any options at that point.

The dogs went past us to the platform where the women were sitting in rattan chairs, waiting for the train to arrive. Two of the dogs jumped up into the women’s laps, effectively trapping them there, while the third one stood between us and the platform. My friend and I stood waiting between the platform and the woods for the Nazis to arrive. We didn’t have to wait long. I suspect they were just beyond the trees, out of sight, all along, watching to see if we would try to make a break for it. When we didn’t do that, they came strolling out as casually as their dogs, chatting and passing a cigarette between them.

When they reached us, the usual: One of them asked to see our passports, our visas, our identity cards, while the other two climbed up to the platform and pretended to talk to their dogs, which had not climbed down out of the laps of the ladies. When one of the ladies voiced her obvious discomfort about this, the two Nazis on the platform mocked her while the Nazi who was checking our papers warned me that my lady friend had better watch herself. Then, to see if we understood who was in charge, one of the Nazis on the platform reached out to scratch one of the ladies behind the ear, as if she was his very own puppy.

I pinched my thumb and fingers in the air in front of the ranking Nazi’s face. He didn’t flinch or pull away. I wasn’t trying to hit or punch him. It wasn’t a menacing gesture in any way, but when I blew across the ends of my fingers, all the skin on his face was drawn back as if he’d been hit by a blast of high-pressure air, and he jerked back, staggering, and landed in a convulsing heap on the ground. One of the other Nazis shouted his name and they both jumped down off the platform, running toward me, but I turned, still blowing across the ends of my fingers, and they reeled back, arms flailing, before falling over backwards.

“How did you do that?” my friend asked me, while we stuffed their unconscious, twitching bodies into a couple of wicker baskets left on the platform.

“I have no idea,” I told him, laughing.

dogs | 6:41 am CDT
Category: daily drivel | Tags:
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