Sunday, January 22, 2017

Roper - The Bikers

The girls were  smiling & waving from the back of their bus, when it swung into the Copenhagen evening traffic.

I stood and smiled & waved too until they disappeared at the next corner.

Nice! REALLY nice! I looked down at the piece of paper with one telephone number and some some random emojis : A date, with two girls! Now I just needed to prepare L. and pray that he won`t fuck it up. Maybe I could....

A ham sized hand landed on my shoulder turning me around and I found myself starring at a set of impressive hairy tits under a leather west.

"You FUCKER! Now we HAVE you!"

The two bikers who tried to chat up the girls ,before I elegantly managed to disappear with them for a coffee and backgammon, found me.

My testicles turned the size of peas and desperately tried to escape into my abdomen.

"Give us that fucking number! You STOLE those bitches from us! NOBODY steals from us!"

What could one do? I have not been in a fight since 8. grade and nothing I learned in the school yard could possibly have prepared me to handle accumulated 300 kg of hairy, tattooed sociopath...

I would do what any other sane person would do: Dry mouthed I gave them the piece of paper desperately hoping they wouldn't  notice that I wiped out the telephone number wby frantically rubbing a sweaty thumb over it. Running was the next step.

But of course that was science fiction, the other one took a shirt ripping hold on my collar and pointed  a Buck folder (funny what you notice when you are piss scared!) at my belly.

At that moment I saw L. coming around the corner with two cups of coffee,  looking for me through his thick, thick glasses.

I like to think of me as a person who would yell; "Run! Save yourself!" And gallantly take a severe beating so my friend could escape. But I honestly looked at him and hoped for help. Hoped he would call the police, the military, air force...anything! Just some form of help and not let me die at the hands of these swine. 

At least 30 people have passed us and nobody wanted to get involved (and get the negative attention of The Brotherhood), but my best friend surely would help me...wouldn't he?

We locked eyes as he sees me and I tried very hard to transfer a non-verbal telepathic message: HELP!

He nodded and dropped the two cups of coffee I sent him to get, so I had time to work my magic on the girls. (L`s social awkwardness made him a terrible wing man.)

That great man, my best friend, sweet genius, this noble spirit...I was sure he would call the police and then try to keep them from beating me to a bloody pulp as the gentleman and cavalier he was.....

...but instead of reaching for his hopeless outdated brick of a telephone he reached to his back and with a loud KRZZZZZP opened the large back pocket of his @#$%$# photographers vest...

(That vest was one of the reasons I wanted him gone when I was trying to convince the two slim bodied Austrian adventuresses, that my best friend was a gentle giant and genius and that his garments were a ironic comment of the causality of existence....)

...and whipped out a large coil of stiff rope.

Oh dear god. That retarded cunt wasn't about to do what I thought he would do....

Yes.

Exactly that.

He whipped the stiff rope over his head, and a large loop started to rotate. Gaining momentum at each turn. After the 4th time, he slipped the noose elegantly over a signpost and the two bikers necks and pulled with all the might his 115 kg could muster.

The two arseholes heads banged into the pole and to each other as the noose tightened with a snap.

They let go of me and I noticed that the passing indifferent crowd evaporated within a split second.

"You ok?" L. asked, voice shacking.

"I don`t know" I said "What are you going to do now?"

Lars starred at his hands holding the rope while his left foot was pushing him backwards using a bench as leverage. His legs shacking with the strain of keeping the bikers pinned to the pole.

"Uhm, I don`t know!"

I looked at the bikers who slowly turned blue and mustered us with hateful eyes, I easily dodged slow a kick.

"Dude you got to let them go!"

"No way, they kill me!"

One look in the red, hateful eyes of these guys more than confirmed that.

"I know what to..." L . grunted under the strain and put his other foot on the backrest of the bench now leaning back at an steep angle.

I did not manage to open my mouth to ask what, when he let go of  the rope and let about 30 cm slip through his hand when he gripped it again. ... and let himself fall back over: Stopping abrupt, hanging almost perpendicular to the ground, feet still on the bench

I heard a BONK and grunts from the two arseholes as their heads were briefly released and then slammed back into the pole by L.` s action

"You IDIOT! Why...you...shit!!"

L. let go and came to me, arms and legs shacking.

"They dead?"

"I don`t fucking know! Lets run!"

I started to dash as L. retrieved his rope,  just to find out that I was running alone.

I stopped on the heels and turned just to see him come jogging, desperately stuffing his vests pockets.

"What the fuck , RUN!" I yelled when he finally managed to catch up.

We ran all the way and first stopped when the first police cars passed us by. No good idea to run now.

We managed to catch a bus not far away and tried to look  non suspicious (which of course resulted in everybody starring at us) as we sat in the back and starred to what happened behind us
I turned as Christiania disappeared behind a corner and saw what L. had stuffed in his pockets.




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