The Trip to USA
Jonathan Fischer renewed his focus more on his professional development. He wondered, whether he should seek for advanced training in banking business administration or a theological career. But as is well known, the Lord is able to give his beloved everything even in their sleep. The heart-throb got another brilliant idea. In addition to some very beautiful, new, younger students, who had started after the summer break their bank training and shamelessly seeked bodily contact during their interactive instructions, there was a woman who appealed to him most. Of all customers the physically and financially attractive Maria Müller was extremely good-looking and even seemed to like him. In their money discussions she often looked deep in the eyes of her trusted counterpart for several minutes, signing in the conclusion any suggested contract without hesitation. The only problem was that the elegant brunette actually did not meet his idea of type. The end justifies all means, for this reason Jonathan began to write a love letter. The main inducement was receiving himself a billet-doux from the class-best come-not-too-close-to-me-cutie with the nice surname Schätzle. Some literary calligraphy passages, written of an autograph book, could be readily well copied from the expectant wordsmith. In addition, he had learned during his visit to England, open rebuke is better than hidden love. Truth be hold, he began to like the steamy rainmaker all along. Especially, as he kept in mind her Bentley Continental convertible, the Princess 66 motor yacht on Lake Geneva, and not forgetting the recently inherited real estate assets.
On the occasion of Miss Maria’s thirtieth birthday, Jonathan received the order to deliver a bouquet of flowers in the name of the Sandbank Denkenstadt eG. In the same procedure as every year, ninety year old butler James well-conducted through the security wing of the mansion, meeting unimaginably dinner guests like the Bavarian Minister President. The Black Forest, catholic civil peasant-graduate knew this kind of luxury already from the SDR-SWF-VIP-Highness-Hotel-TV. The great-looking Maria Müller offered a glass LVMH “La Grande Dame” champagne with a smile in her face for her admirers. Hereafter, the appetiser of the birthday menu “frog legs in garlic butter” could be tasted. Most of the guests came later. After a philosophical smalltalk with the Jesuit-Black-Jack about good old money, the allegedly fasting Heart-Jack-Jonathan remarked towards the Trump-Queen: “Oh, before I forget, I have versified something for your birthday!” He pulled out the pink letter from his sack coat pocket and kissed her hand, dismissing from the highly revered, hilarious, great and gracious lady.
What would possibly come to light at the bank meeting scheduled next week, together with her new business consultant? Jonathan felt stupid as a crossbreed of a jackass and drowned rat, when the chairman of the supervisory board Karl Kempe introduced himself as the newly-bithday-engaged asset manager. Based on the conversation and Maria’s conspirative wink of the eye, the stultified sponger meant to realize, that she kept the flattering, pink-flowered pass as a secret. Nevertheless, the brave bankers lost half of her demand deposits despite vehement defence efforts to a illuminating, stinking rich, central land bank, which reallocated the dough into U.S. housing market investing hedge funds. The remaining other half was invested in railroad apartments and used for door-opening party donations, as Jonathan later learned from secret documents. About the smart guy Karl, who was also a successful real estate agent, a short time later press rumours circulated, because of his dubious real estate dealings with the Scientology sect, whereby he also could be an undercover church member.
Jonathan remembered the words: “But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness!” A small Bible correspondence course from the USA was already successfully completed, and now he wanted to participate in an English full-time Bible school. His YMCA soccer friend Tobi Veigel was always enthused by a Master’s Commission training program in Phoenix, which he himself had attended in the state of Arizona. Tobi told of an encounter with the well-known pastor Tommy Barnett in Stuttgart, where he organized a take along food from the Wienerwald restaurant. During an event of the Jesus-Meeting the American Barnett mentioned that he gladly would like to try a Viennese Schnitzel with French fries, which Veigel got promptly, instead of Spätzle with Saitenwürstle. Thereupon the surprised guest speaker had invited him to come to Phoenix. Arriving there, Tobi was received so graciously that he even got a free private accommodation for one year. In return, he helped as a music teacher and in the kitchen. Now Jonathan had planned to attend the First Assemblies of God church at Carnival on the occasion of an interview. First Jonathan disposed his Mercedes-Benz annual car. After an advertisement in the Stuttgarter Zeitung it was sold immediately to a Polish goldsmith from Pforzheim, who was not happy with the car, since it was already stolen at the first home visit. Often looking out the window, his landlady couldn’t understand the trade. Anyway, he laid back the four hundred meters to the People’s Bank always on foot. Jonathan knew that a car can soon become to an idol in the most successful car inventor country of the world, for he scrubbed and polished his blue-painted C-Class station wagon with the flashing star logo weekly. The widow, who always had observed this activity witnessed in a double sense: “Now you have lost your dearest little!”
Jonathan enjoyed the beautiful, awe-inspiring view of the Grand Canyon from his window seat of the Boing 747 Jumbo Jet. He thought, if it did not work with an English woman then it will be probably an American. Bobbi Zimmerman, the young secretary of the Bible school with German ancestors, had strongly encouraged him to come. She was very friendly on the phone and sent to him many brochures, containing also photos of employees. Of course, the reliable planner would arrange everything for him, he should only seek her in the office. At 6 p.m. local time the Atlantic high flyer had arrived after a long delay in a yellow taxi at the Bible school office. Longer than predicted, the travel time for the groggy feeling German ran up to eighteen hours. Unfortunately, the doors of the municipal offices were closed and no one to see. Jonathan was previously sure to get a private accommodation. He believed to have heard God’s gentle voice in his heart, likewise to be received friendly as his friend Tobi was. But now he had to leave with the taxi cap, seeking a hotel. Barbara, his chauffeur, was a lovely woman who happened to belong herself to the First Assemblies of God Church. Using her car phone, she spoke something on the answering machine of her comrade Charlie, until he yet decided to pick up the phone and to receive Jonathan in his 10 miles away home. Once there, Jonathan soon fell asleep on the living room couch after a brief acquaintance. Thus, he was able to recover well from the exertions of the long journey.
The next day the temperature climbed to anomalous 86 degrees Fahrenheit. Another lodger of Charlie, the motorcycle evangelist Brian Tate, invited Jonathan in the cooler morning hours to get a first image of the First Assemblies of God church which is located in the Cave Creek Road. After the Honda Gold Wing was turned of in one of the many parking lots, the visitors could get a better view of the entire system of the church with a heart. The modern octagonal service building was huge for German conditions, for it provided space for four thousand people. The constantly irrigated park, the gym, and the kindergarten also left a good impression on the real estate appraisers. Brian wanted to teach this morning at the Bible school and showed the German student the corresponding office buildings. Once there, Jonathan Fischer became acquainted with the already married Bobbi Zimmerman and the head of the Bible schools Chris Immendörfer. Chris wanted to refresh his foreign language due to his long time at Youth With A Mission (YWAM) in Germany. He talked for an hour with Jonathan about his mission visits during and after the 1972 Olympics in Munich. First he became the director of the school for evangelism in the newly acquired castle in Hurlach, until he started to organise the Bible school work for JMS youth, mission and social work in Altensteig. If Jonathan wants to learn more of God, the Bible correspondence course graduate should not only visit Master’s Commission, but also see Pastors School. The offer of Chris to participate during the week free to sample the lessons of the discipleship and pastor school was fantastic. When Fischer looked around in the classes, he got reminded of his vacation to Albania. The students welcomed him warmly, and especially the coeds hugged him as oncoming creatures. Instead of following the instruction on the blackboard, Jonathan’s eyes caught shamelessly again and again at the future female classmates. The revivalist Brian Tate noticed this and suggested to him to come along at evening for bowling at a special single meeting. Brian, who led the lesson on evangelism, was a cool guy in the manner he took his King James Bible as a beating sword in the stretched arm at the end of the hour, proclaiming the must memorize verse: “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me!”
In the evening the housemates made their way to the bowling alley. The head of the house and police officer Charles Pugliese had a special heart for people. A dark-skinned young man named Creflo Shomari Obama pleaded in front of the sports complex for a change, for he got fired – despite his job as a shoe salesman – from Landlord Herbert Walker out of his barracks and ended up living on the street. Warm-hearted Charlie invited him not only to the bowling, but also to his home to take a temporary refuge. Powerful Brian, in the pink of his youth, succeeded one strike after the other in knocking down all ten pins. His skilful approach actually led to successful advances with a new, scantily-clad flame named Sharon. My oh my! What a sight, such a long-legged, long haired blonde Jonathan himself had dreamed of. Funnily enough, the heterosexual European befriended not with a fair-skinned girl but with a dark-skinned youth. This easygoing Obama was likeable from the first moment with a funny big mouth you could listen for hours.
On the way home in Charles chiselled Chevrolet Caprice the four bachelors vigorously beat around the bush, which continued in the district detached house with a cussed game of Monopoly. Stupid enough, the same night the air conditioner of the one-storey, wooden building in the Park Place breathed its last to give up the ghost. As a result, Jonathan welcomed the invitation of Creflo to accompany him to his cool workplace in the huge Paradise Mall after ingesting a combined Quaker cereal breakfast. Becoming close friends, the two went up in one of the many buses, while Jonathan admiringly watched the driver, as he manhandled with all his might a wheelchair on a lift. Creflo Obama was an employee with a distinctive sales talent in the largest shopping center of Phoenix. Jonathan noted that he was a fan of Jürgen Klinsmann, whereupon he got packed a full football equipment from Bayern München with the squad number 18 at the final selling price. Actually, he wanted to get only a few soccer shoes for his weekly workout in the sports hall. However, now he was able to match with Tobi, who was running around with a sweaty, signed shirt from Marcelo Bordon, which the Brasil fan regularly wore on the occasion of his YMCA- and Jesus-meetings. On the basis of a favourable DM-dollar exchange rate, Fischer anyway had planned a day for shopping. Now, he heavily dragged many shopping bags which were hard to handle. For this too there was found a solution in sales manager Clinton, who personally brought his staff member Obama with the newly acquired goods to his new white house.
As usual, businessmen Fischer wanted to control the stock market prize of his VW-Warrants, wherefore he was visiting a Citibank high-rise branch in downtown. Once he was passing heavily armed guards at the entrance, a strange queue system with white ribbons opened up in front of him. On his turn, the professional colleague at the counter couldn’t help him in the beginning. Not comprehending his concern, the waiter recommended to inquire an Alamo car rental. Yet again, the car-sharer assigned half an hour later to an appointment in a higher advisory office. Right after answering and subscribing a required twenty questions analysis of his aims and wishes, the tourist came to the point that he only want to know a security price. Nonetheless, the colourful computer images and the database software was very advanced compared with German conditions. Jonathan coaxed his young counterpart, entreating to put the six-digit securities identification number in his system, which was not possible in the environment. On these grounds, Jonathan gladly caught at the offer to sit himself in front of the internet-box. Then he gave the greenhorn a masterlesson about the access to the stock-quote service of OnVista. Regrettably, his turbo securities still didn’t move into gear. But on the other hand, in the evening opened up a fantastic opportunity for a wicked ride.
Brian Tate told at the dinner that he drives the next day with his new acquaintance Sharon to Las Vegas to convey her caravan to Phoenix. Charlie, the vigilant, whose phone rang only twice before the answering machine turned on, because a stalking, non-stop calling protégé in psychiatric treatment regarded him as God, strained his ears. Everything developed into a heated argument between Pugliese and Tate, for it was frowned upon religious circles to date alone so quickly. Brian claimed that Jesus had shown him in person last night that the singing fashion model Sharon will be his wife. Grinning Creflo pulled out of his dopp kit a hackneyed Penthouse edition with Sharon Farrow on the cover, which portrait Jonathan would have liked to gaze longer. Killjoy Charlie didn’t deign to look at the the architectural ideal built, wherefore he shredded the magazine into the trash can, though the curious Brian had not received the sexually graphic cover photo to face. “If she is really intended by God for you, you’ll see her naked. At the moment she is rather a poisonous snake as seductive Eve for you,” was his well-meant advice. Now Jonathan, who had considered beforehand to visit the Grand Canjon or even Las Vegas with a rental car, horned in. “Take it easy, no problem with Jonathan the watchdog. On the dangerous mission field in Albania, I have successfully beaten the mafia and risking my life, I have saved eight women from death,” boasted the brave hero. That took the heat out of the discussion, although the air cooling of the domestic breeding was still down.
The next morning, a black and white monster of a Dodge Ram 3500 pickup drove up, which looked like a mixture between a sheriff and devil vehicle, inasmuch as two white pentagrams decorated the side doors, an airbrush grim reaper the hood, and imitations of hell fire the oversized fenders. The ultimate all-wheel giant had a 8.0L V10 engine with 700 newton meter of torque. The two men suddenly felt very small and were smitten with amazement when the raised cabin door opened, and leggy Sharon, who wore not much more than a micro-mini skirt, pointedly waved with the ignition key. Taking place at the rear, Jonathan could use the buffalo leather back seat as a bed. Suited in a Hugo Boss cashmere pinstripe suit, he started dreaming to visit the casinos in Las Vegas. The “blind Simson” charioteer “Ben Tate” used as double counterpoint a “Bikers for Christ” vintage leather outfit. Cool, the powerful air conditioner didn’t refrigerate only the cabin in the car but also the beverages in the minibar. Jonathan got into raptures over a Pepsi and the unlimited good sound of the Infinity Kappa reverence loudspeakers, whereby Brian wasn’t fascinated by the melancholy song “The Ballad of Lucy Jordon” from Marianne Faithfull as Fisher and Farrow were. After all, Tate’s countenance darkened evermore. Indeed, Brian didn’t want to be persuaded to make a walk on the wild side with a slight detour on the contradictory route 66 to Sedona. The simple distance thus increased from three hundred to four hundred miles. All the better, overseer Jonathan on the back seat could tip the scales through a democratic decision. Then the passing desert landscape with its many cacti and hills, the holiday maker sensed similarly stunning, as the bubbling engine sound of the 23 liters swallowing, six-meter-long monster.
After two hours, the differently dressed group arrived at the Diablo Hotel in Sedona. Sharon, who was donned like a whore, wore a stunning transparent blouse with a bra which virtually wasn’t one. In that case, she wanted only to pick up a few personal objects from the grubby room of a friend. Therefore she asked the two gentlemen to assist her to bear an antique table with Ouija board. A magnum shot gun in his hands, the saluting womaniser Hunter, who opened the door, had pretty much the nastiest mien that Jonathan had ever perceived. Mercifully, the situation calmed slightly. The unique copy, who was tattooed all over his body with Hells Angels and snake images burst out laughing when he saw the writing on Brian’s motorcycle jacket. “Just so-so, do you want to change fronts and to prostitute with a guru? Yeah, come on, lets smoke a joint and meditate about it!” “No, for good and all, it’s over. Now, give me back my Ouija board,” was her resolute response. The ensuing run-in to fisticuffs recalled the spectator Jonathan in return to his trip to Albania, solely that this time round the opposing party was knocked out to the ground from the preacher man. Thereupon the three trespassers took to one’s heels. The troubled ruffian Brian wanted to continue the journey immediately, but Farrow insisted to pick up a number of pre-ordered, clairvoyant thoth tarot cards in her favourite store. “Have those things not all the same esoteric colourful pictures?” Jonathan asked himself in his Swabian accent. This attracted the attention of two answer giving German compatriots who had observed him in his inspection of the 78-card Crowley-deck. Elymas and Magdalena accidentally came also from Stuttgart and rejoiced with him about how small the world is. The smart suit-wearer Jonathan just wanted to explain why he was aiming for a spiritual education in the USA, when the likewise black clothed, big ankh-cross-carrying goth couple cut in and commended that it is a must-do to stay longer in the vortex area of Bell Rock with its four electric vortical, helical spiraling energy centers. The former high school graduate in physics, who had no clue what they were meaning, explicated that he was in a transrapid hurry. Hitting his floating foot on a forgotten tool box, he left by way of trial, escaping from magic magnetic fields he only knew from mystic Emsland and didn’t want to get visible by dowsing rods from New Agers. Time pressed. In a KFC drive-in restaurant the stripping Fischer’s whydah got three roasted chicken and would have liked to speak longer with her pipe smoking teacher Wilhelm Bolte. By the way, two bored scoundrels waiting in the car run the next rig. Indeed, during the departure nearly a second brawl broke out, when Brian pushed the button of the windshield wiper system too long and thus splashed the tailors, bakers and farmers, who were having a picnic under a billy witch tree in their launch break.
Thank God, the six-hour journey passed soon. The third wheel on the car tried to learn from Sharon, why she came to the Christian bowling meeting and how long she believes in God. “An eternity long,” replied the taciturn co-driver beauty, who was programming the psychedelic Beatles song “Helter Skelter” on the 6 CD-changer. Driving over speed limit for long on the straight road, Jonathan felt bored like ultra-cool actor James Dean, who also crashed in his Porsche 955 Spyder through the American prairie country. By way of change, a motorcycle convoy clandestinely had joined them on the desert highway. Unmistakable the gang was about to overtake them. With panic anxiety Brian grabbed his cell phone and called seldom phone picking up Charlie. Doing penance, he cried on the Ignis-answering-machine that Charlie had been right about everything, but now most urgent his prayer was needed, for it was about life and death. Jonathan concluded that the policeman and Christian psychotherapist got another confused patient in his phone queue.
But once again, sitting as fellow passenger in a car, the hero of this life-fiction was forced from the road. For they had to turn on one of the spooky, deserted roadcrossings more or less voluntarily from the wide highway on a narrow dirt road. This time, they were surrounded by a military helmets wearing, black olive horde of 39 gang members. The pivoting rifle barrels of threatening pump up guns signalled an invitation to a small talk. At the forced exit, sweat dripped down from Jonathan, what was not necessarily due to his too hot for these sunnier climes goat wool suit. Brian, the stage director who was about to loose control, would have liked to savour his attachment with the superwoman who choose to separate for safety reasons. Still standing at his side, Jonathan preferred to remain quiet, while his brotherly death row inmate prayed one last time screaming: “Do not touch her. No weapon that is formed against us shall prosper,” at which the first shot from the magnum of Sonny Hunter banged. Reminded of poor Lazarus, Jonathan awaited to be slaughtered like a silent lamb as grinning Hunter once again pulled the trigger with his index finger but missed him first. Galloping away like a runaway horse, Jonathan would give anything up to a kingdom to return whole to the Solitude, to warn his unbelieving, Davidson handling brother Thomy (help finger) of the dangerous Harley garden tools from his kind US-motorcycle-buddies. Yet, his last wishes couldn’t be attested. In return, he could unendingly understand the story of the rich man and the poor beggar. Five shots were fired at the doomed man who felt like a scapegoat sent to the dessert making sidesteps as a rabbit. Ran out of steam, Jonathan figured that everything around would be darkened, or that he will feel how his soul leaves his body. Instead, a roar of laughter resounded from the black widow, the love her to bits ex-bridegroom, and the bikercrew. Blank ammunition were bullying the German watchdog.
“Darling, you have forgotten your travel bag under the bed. I make any bet, that you will return home tomorrow with our vehicle,” were the last words of the gang boss ere the motorcycle snake moved in circles. “You reap what you sow!” was the dry comment of the climbing up to the steering wheel Bible teacher who was eased one’s conscience. His student however would have liked to know what was in the heavy bag, which wispy Sharon burdensome heaved to the load platform of the pick up. Turning down his help he once more got no answer from the tight-lipped vocalist. Moreover, on the proceeding of the journey she provided information why her caravan was in Las Vegas. She would have sung the leading role of the give over musical “Dance of the Vampires”, claiming that she soon starts her initiation as an actress with a supporting role in the revival of the horror film “Rosemary’s Baby” in Phoenix. “Jesus Christ has crushed the head of the snake once and for all, no matter how many times the film industry will rebirth the Antichrist,” was the comment of the old form regaining Brian. “If so, you comedian can play Jesus in the remake of Life of Brian,” was the tit-for-tat response of Sharon Tate. Sorry, typo devil mistake! The soon-to-be was still called Sharon Farrow.
The sky darkened for a storm broke lose. There was a hurricane warning on the car radio, when the team arrived at the thirteen meter long maxi-bedroom trailer at the gates of Las Vegas in Hellfire Valley. Crossing the rocky ground through the pouring rain, the men comprehended quickly why a monster-truck was needed as donkey. Little Joe wanted a wee-wee in the palatial powder room of the lounge container, whilst Big Brother Brian inspected the precious mahogany furniture and controlled the record collection, calculating a total of fifty thousand silver drachmas.
The two lovers quarrelled again violently. Brian had claimed that Farrow is a witch and commanded shouting, that a legion of demons should get out of her. Not amused, Sharon manifested forcefully, for when Jonathan opened the door of the bathroom, he saw her shaking with rage and with a butcher knife in her hands to stab Brian’s chest. This time, the travelled with minder and Bible student Jonathan proclaimed the “No weapon shall prosper” verse from the 54th chapter of Isaiah. How in the world could Brian stay so cool and do not defend oneself at all? With a humdrum ha-ha ha-ha hysterical hoochie had harped on about him and with a murder weapon which indeed wasn’t made of rubber. But it looked as if she runs against a wall. Brian now boldly demanded: “Sweetheart, trust me, you will marry me and we will have three children. Jesus has shown me everything in a dream!” The blonde model sank to the ground and burst into a flood of tears. “This is not so simple. I have devoted myself with blood to the devil. His infernal and earthly subjects get me sooner or later,” was the fear of the demonic possessed satanist.
Unto a terrifying roll of thunder joined from outside threatening rumblings of underground. Jonathan dawned tremendousness. He drew back the curtains to explore the sphere. A vortex of wind reached from the sky to the earth, moving forward as tornado. Moving to the window, forward-looking Brian kept one’s head to answer the phone. He beseeched recalling Charlie to bind with him together the power of the devil over the whirlwind, whereupon the earth began to shake stronger. The outpost of hell trembled. Directly in front of the entrance door opened a rock crevice. Experienced Charlie commanded on the phone to destroy all occult items, what Brian immediately transacted by smashing to pieces the black vinyl discs with a hammer. Jonathan observed the whirling twister of the flashing storm circling six times around them, until at behest he also helped to break the withstanding records with his feet. Oh man, that really hurts. Lo and behold, not only the bloody cuttings of Slayer or Iron Mayden, but also the reverenced recordings of Rolling Stones, Guns N’ Roses and Metallica. The raised destructive frenzy of Brian didn’t calm down, even when a splinter hurt his earlobe, till the last work of destruction was finished. Blowing everything away, the hurricane still threatened them, once Charlie got a crazy word of knowledge on the phone. They ought to go out into the raging storm, because the most accursed things would be in the car. Exiting Jonathan, who nearly fall in the cleft, promised to take care of the helter skelter CDs. Approaching at the back, Brian shattered the antique table and destroyed the witchboard. Sharon, who was trembling in every limb, took her heavy bag from the loading and seemed to commit suicide in falling down the opened cleft in front of the caravan. “What is in the bag?” the hastened lover who grabbed her arm wanted to know.
The wind became so strong, that the luxury camper was torn and hurled 78 meter through the air. In the event of impact on the ground exploited the gas tank and ignited a blazing fire in the motorhome. Jonathan watched the spectacle from the cockpit of the fuel-eating Dodge-Ram-Monster, expecting the same fate coming to him. Sharon grabbed a skull from the burial bag and threw it down in the burial crypt. Brian helped her with many other bones and urged his frightened German helpmeet also to come and participate. The summoned black-suit-carrier threw the mortal remains into the subterranean realm, holding his first funeral speech: “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, you came naked into the world and naked you leave it. Rest in peace.” A final powerful thunderclap with instant lightning forced the three on the once more vibrating soil and dissolved the smouldering, dying, fluorescent Fire-Devil-Pentagram-Paint in smoke. The rock crevice closed down again and only the blazing fire of two iron chariots was heard whispering in the wind. An indescribable peace concluded and the sun emerged. Jonathan sensed an abysmally peace and deduced that the same feeling Bapu Gandhi and the sixth Dalei Lama wanted to reach in their meditations.
My goodness! The adventurer guessed that his family at home wouldn’t believe a word of his story. In fact, later his first listener, brother Thomy, advised to become better a science fiction author than to be a fairy tale teller. Nevertheless, to whom belonged the skeleton? Sharon explained that as a medium she was able to get in touch with the spirits of a murdered Indian clan chief, but gradually lost control over them. Even her friend Sonny was attacked from visible poltergeists, getting anxiety states in sleepless nights instead of getting rid of them. The fire brigade arrived with sirens and doused the remains of the car and caravan wreck. Much work was not to do, since the gas and petrol stocks had already vanished into the air. Being destitute, the three thankfully appreciated the offer of the fire extinguisher to be taken to their headquarters to downtown Las Vegas. Brian telephoned with his parents Abraham and Sarah, who operated the Canaan Ranch in a 170 miles distance. The happy sheep and goat farmers immediately made on the way to pick up the hands holding two fresh enamoured. Funny, prophetically gifted Father Abraham with the smurf pointed cap caused a special sound through the handy loudspeaker, which his servant Salomon had programmed: “Love is strong as death and passion irresistible as the realm of the dead. Her ardour is fiery and a flame of the Lord.” In the warm and shielded atmosphere of the family home, located in the plains, the former witch should experience permanent relief from evil powers and flourish in the attachment to the Bible like a beautiful flower. When the de-thorned Rose of Sharon, who completely lost her heart to closely entangled Tate, gave a long tongue kiss to femoral fondling beloved Brian, Jonathan could at least discharge one’s duty. The watchdog warned they should not arouse or awaken love until it so desires. Having himself no effect on them, the jealous chaperon stepped in. He wanted to flip and snitch everything moral guardian Charlie. Yet, in the book “God is a Matchmaker” the instruction is given to wait until the wedding night with the exchange of intimate caresses. Al least this Blossom-Honeysuckle recommendation slowed down the pleasure for a time. Later it spread around the world that this marriage was really initiated by God. Till the first child Isaac was born, the missionary couple visited all continents. The ministry was remarkably enough recognized in the necromancer continent of Africa, where many medicine men and witches were freed from their demons and burned their voodoo fetishes. An ever higher level of awareness reached neighbouring India in the support of the fast growing Sharon Fellowship Church.
Jonathan had to say goodbye to the waiting couple which was sitting at a bench of the fire service. Unselfishly devoted, they besieged him to got to the bus station, to reach one of the last Greyhound buses back to Phoenix. Sauntering past a Bank of America, he took 170 dollars from the ATM and queried at another fingertip monitor the security prize of his investments. Shoot! The warrants seemed to have almost halved. Arriving at the public telephone booth of Caesars Palace, he called his friend and collaborator Jürg to check the prize once again. Due to the time difference, he was not at the workshop, but elsewhere, i.e. in bed with his wife Pamela. Fear of losing even more money the sceptic was leaving a message on the vibrating phone storage device to dispose everything at the earliest moment.
Invited at the entrance of the “All roads lead to Rome” hotel complex, Jonathan was offered to be treated like Caesar. For this reason he had to brood over the bargain: Was hereby meant the Julius who was killed by the Senate, or silly self stabbing Nero, or maybe the more favoured Christians liberator Emperor Constantine? The sceptical history-speculator was one of the worst students of high school mathematics, excluding his special hobby probability calculation. He knew for sure that the imperator-casino wins throughout. Notwithstanding, he wanted to extend his glorious monetary territory with a pool of 100 dollars, which really didn’t hurt him. The clever fox, representing the savings and loan association (Bausparkasse Schwäbisch Hall), took a seat with his newly acquired chips. At the Black Jack table he was aware to have the best winning chances with the 312 card game. Without fail, the Lord would make him to a millionaire through gambling, giving him all these supernatural experiences. In 17 and 4 addition, he had celebrated precisely at the Seventeenth in the fourth month of year seventy-eight his First Communion in the Roman Catholic Church, where as last hint he also wore his best three-piece suit with a bow tie. Finding more coincidences, Swabian land pirate foxy Fischer could plunder the money floating casino – believe it or not!? Indeed, the dealer was just replaced, since the players robbed him blind so that the session ended early in the evening. Jonathan became acquainted at the table with three new friends, having a very lucky hand. Sitting at the right hand of the dealer, the ringleader called himself with good reason Dollar-Centurio, inasmuch as he already won one hundred thousand greenbacks in the recent days. Therefore he was watched suspiciously not only by a crowd of spectators, but also of the secret casino cameras. The ultimate goal of the banks is in fact not just to increase their clients’ money but to fill the money bin – imitating greedy Scrooge McDuck! Nothing at all, Jonathan sextupled his money with a simple tactic. He observed his crafty neighbours who seemed to memorize the unremarkably cards, having himself problems with only 32 Skat cards in the nudist club home in Fasanenhof with two co-players. The strategy to increase the stakes, likewise the soldiers of fortune periodically did, proved to be dead right.
Smart people retire at the peak of their careers or change the scope of activities, the amateur soccer player had learned from Jürgen Klinsmann and other famous athletes. Only the sandbank employee didn’t want to bury one’s head in the sand and to build his house on the sand, whilst his stakes disappeared in the sand, so that he did with ease lose 600 dollars in the sand, where his little ostrich head belonged to. Reminded at his unsuccessful pilgrimage to Saint Moritz in Switzerland, he further mused that there are simply not only winners in life. At that instant, the unhappy European Caesar pondered if he should go for new Cleopatra chips, qua Joshua Augustus, the casino boss, knocked over the table. The spy had heard how the three victorious soldiers identified each other as Centurion, Optio, and Principalis. After the examination of the shared hotel room he found out that they are faggoty, autistic, Boston student scammers. Well, at right, were the imperial soldiers allowed to spend the already booked night in the Forum, but then they would be “Persona non grata” in the Roman Empire. Downcast master mind Fischer inquired of the three fortune seekers, who were encashing their Egypt coins, if at the advanced time a bus is still driving to the just as hot city Phoenix, what they negated.
Good luck replaced fading fortune in Jonathan’s life, since he was invited for diner in Caesars Magical Empire from the sympathy sharing, euphoric, hyper play partners. In the afternoon, nearly escaped death, the ghost driver had not yet eaten. Instead, he was swallowed in the creepy eating-place from a scary fate elevator, to be guided from a fortune-teller in a catacomb maze with ten idols dedicated dining rooms. No wonder, the fantastic three course menu wasn’t properly digested from the German yellowbelly, inasmuch as he repeatedly imagined how his bat friend Brian would immediately knock to pieces the occult Merlin statue with the glowing ball in the hand. The apathetic bachelors bore the hocus-pocus either, for the Optio and the Principalis cheated the time with a small travel dice game, instead of regarding the magic tricks of the jugglers, and the Centurion began to hold his left hand. Jonathan’s face went pale and his eyes got really wide. In his Munich Bundesliga time he met cute, lederhosen wearing, shy, gay chess players. Should he got out of hand with the pushy species?
“You may address me by my first name Oral. What a nice chess clock you have,” purred the leader. The international chess champion showed his unsaleable Swatch watch with the motif of the International Chess Festival Biel. Yet, exact on this timekeeper Oral Dollar had designs on. Making an effort of charity, Jonathan gave away his timeworn talisman. He had himself received the plastic watch free of charge from his friend and chief editor of the Swiss Chess Magazine in remembrance of two victories against two renowned grand masters. The matchless success of the young nobody at the biggest tournament of Europe was even broadcasted in Swiss television and recorded on video by him.
Sure enough, after a further, final magic show the indisposed guest wanted to take a powder. However, he got the attractive dollar offer to visit the far superior David Copperfield show on the Strip in the Circus Maximus Theatre completely free. “We have only three cards,” interposed Kenneth and Toufik, the two backgammon cupping passengers. So the master commanded to cut into cubes the also-run. After three attempts, in which everyone had always diced a six, the previous backgammon loser Toufik had been elected more or less democratically. When Jonathan traced the gruesome “Dreams and Nightmares” pairing illusion show of the dark, Claudia Schiffer worshipper Copperfield, the true shock experiences by the end of the day occurred in fact like a dream. Which couple will inherit the glowing future? No siree, Bob! Disgusted Jonathan shove away the caressingly hand of his pink, round Elton-John-Glasses bearing side seater.
As is well known, compulsive gamblers never go to bed early. Therefore, the reunited casino professionals discussed after the performance where in the night they could get going. Waiting outside, Toufik enjoyed a glass of champagne, reading in the stars that pussycat doll Paris Hilton will appear on the scene on her 27th birthday in the Pure Nightclub. This was the heavenly sign for Jonathan to take flight from youthful indiscretions and to jump of in seeking a cheaper hotel room. Even so, in another case he was tempted by a fishy offer from the Centurion, who wanted to have his Metzinger factory outlet store garment. He promised to play a game of chess with the international master with his bargain prize money of 100 dollars against the Hugo Boss suit. Citing as excuse, the defier explained that he has vowed to play no more chess tournaments, also the fine twisted fabric from Italy was not for sale. “Money will make the mare go and is not to be sniffed at! Then I raise the stakes. What is thy request further?” asked the all-bountiful U.S. dollar Croesus. To shake off the pungent admirer, the alleged victim demanded six thousand six hundred dollar prize money, two nights in the King Suite, the invitation to the Siegfried and Roy show with a followed celebrity dinner, and to stretch everything, the paid back trip to Phoenix with a wedding limousine. Sexy Oral, on the other hand, wanted to go into the deal in case that Jonathan will in the event of failure disrobe – except for his panties – and blow the measure on the trumpet. “Does God come now really into play or was it a coincidence?” the high school graduate asked himself. In effect, in the music lesson Fischer really stripped down to his United-States-flagged underpants in saluting protest about Madame Spasski. Since the chubby Russian teacher compelled him to perform a unifying “The Star-Spangled Banner” dance, which was accompanied by a military band. “Okay, I’ll clinch the deal, if a draw is enough to win,” said the former coach of the German national team for the blind and visually impaired. “Agreed! But we play two correspondence chess games to eliminate a draw chance hit. And we play in the head without taking checkerboards as help, whereby two draws or one victory is enough for you to win the bet,” the homosexual lunatic was certain of success.
As venue of the competition the hotelsuite in the Forum was logically chosen. To keep full concentration, Fischer put his veiled face under a blanket on the sofa of the living room. Oral Dollar had carefully worked out, that the game histories are recorded on the laptop in the bedroom as corpus delicti for the correct transmission of the moves. Kenneth and Toufik were appointed as mail carrier adjutants, since they should deliver the masterstrokes on a slip. In his game with the white pieces Jonathan quickly fall behind with a modern Ben-Oni (Hebrew: son of mourning) chess variant, cos his opponent played with the precision of a machine, and also the inconvenient English descriptive notation caused problems. The former Bavarian chess master was jazzed and got mixed up so much, that he overlooked a double attack through a Knight fork and gave up quickly. With the black, in the brain projected stones, the tired thinker chose the Marshall Attack, taking a lot of risk. However the notation of this special Ruy Lopez variation was more basic and easy.
A Millennium-old proverb teaches to first calculate the relative strength and the costs before going to war. Did the German underestimate his American enemy, such as an other cross confident commander? The crux or crooked twist in the case was that Jonathan didn’t reckon to embark with the world champion of correspondence chess, who was used to all possible facilities. That one revealed his secret with a sardonic laughter ringing out the room door. The two bored adjutants insisted to take a bath in the tub, what crestfallen Jonathan used for a nap. In a short dream vision the tired fantasized how he was found on a deserted potter’s field, being attacked from a terrifying, roaring, white, two-winged lion, who tore his clothes of with his sharp canines. Instead of devouring his victim, the beast transformed in two blood sucking, sizzling snakes and afterwards in three slimy toads, licking him with their tacky, tarred tongues all over his body. Feeling like Pitch Mary, the next moment a modern Mother Holle appeared for aid in form of Harry, a familiar English sorcerer’s apprentice. Thirty redeeming silver coins were shaken from a bed sheet above his head, as the supposed Good Luck Mary was abruptly shaken from sleep. Precisely at this moment, Jonathan was leaked awake on his nose by strong woman perfume using ex-Muslim Toufik. Even the ex-Jew Oral wanted to speed the matter, for he sat down closely connected with the ex-Christians Kenneth in the second sofa. Now awoke the old fighting spirit in Jonathan, who proclaimed: “Who laughs last, laughs best!” Just this moment he got out ready a redemptive Marshall plan. Faithless, gum chewing Toufik just let fly a silk bomber-short towards the poor, Berlin doughnut eating German and bluffed bare that the battered boxer should jog with them to Phoenix through the desert. The economic aid with panhandled card coupons would be over, for the low blow champion Schmeling must take of his held in pledge suit. “Gens una sumus, we are a family. Let us run to end the game,” the Roman lead wolf remarked, intervening with the motto of the FIDE – World Chess Federation. The encounter lasted only six more moves until a winner was determined. As it is common in chess, the two players went into the bedroom to analyse the fantastic game together. Jonathan was surprised to find some “Encyclopaedias of Chess Openings” on the chest of drawers. When he noticed that the gambler used the chess program Fritz from ChessBase on his laptop, he saw things in a clearer light. But this time the German had defeated the downcast American with his 33th move, a smothered mate with the King Knight (N-KB7). Delightfully he took one of the Sahovski Informators and showed the game of the year between Jonathan Fischer and Harry Beaver in St. Moritz, which had repeated again, but this time with reversed roles in favour of the happy German.
Watch out kids, pay attention! The following satirical piece of fiction is obviously extremely unlikely, so that parallels to real-life events and persons are not to be taken seriously.
The honourable loser, who actually played 1-1, paid to the overfatigued competition winner 6600 dollars in notes of one hundred and tried to book a king suite in Caesars Palace. Since the Centurion had a house ban, he was referred to the Egyptian Hotel Luxor, whereto he requested a taxi for the winning single fighter. Arrived, the new guest was quite amazed about the black glass pyramid hotel, which showed the strongest beam of light in the world with its 39 Xenon lamps focusing the heaven. Seeking in vain the luggage to spiritual crossing, the porter and ferryman of the hotel defined that according to Egyptian mythology the spirits of the people are carried through the light into the afterlife. Once the Germanic archaeologist examined the spectacle, which was visible way down to Hollywood, he meant to face millions of dancing moths in the headlight-film-projection illumination. “Aha, I see! Thus the Pharaohs and their subjects have turned into mosquitoes,” was his sarcastic comment. Drawn through the water, “Moses Fischer” would have liked a camera to film on the trailing Nile cruise the lit-up Sphinx, the obelisk, and the tomb of Tutankhamun. First of all, the creepy skeleton ghosts of three construction workers entered perfectly balanced the scene, so that the bones burying people liberator nearly fall into the blood-red turned water. Brought in the ferry to the hotel lobby, his slumbering spirit was shown the room. Incoming with a diagonally upward running inclinator elevator he reached the Jacuzzi-Whirlpool-Suite, which – mind you – he used alone, immediately falling asleep.
Life with God is thrilling, exciting and very exhausting, Jonathan reflected the next day in his oversized jetted tub, in which he tried to catch a flea or a louse that he got from the hotelboy. Perhaps his itchy bumps were only bloody mosquitoes bites, the stricken patient diagnosed, while it rained outside first grasshoppers and then frog-large stones, which turned off the light in the pyramid for a while. Despite widespread mad cow disease (BSE), the pennywise Swabian took a hamburger bun fast food lunch in the fourth floor of the entertainment level, when he was discovered from three check-in friends. Dollar Centurion held one’s promise in getting the last three tickets for the SARMOTI-Show at the Strip located Hotel Mirage. Now arose again the wretched, unsolvable problem, who should abandon the indulgence of the magic Siegfried and Roy, Masters of the Impossible show. First and foremost they diced 666, then everyone pulled the same ace from a deck. Moreover all mill, draughts and chess games with each other ended in a draw. In the meantime ho-hum Fischer set out to the hotel pool to take off his shoes for a bounce-back in a beach lounger. Inexplicably, the hedge beside him had ignited, what was the command for him to return barefooted to the Memphis Restaurant. The consuming fire illusion which was indelible for firemen gave Jonathan another firewood idea. He got three matches and inspired the tired U.S. warriors for the simple children playoff game in which the loser Toufik again drew the short straw. “One is always the ….. – Oiner isch immer d´r …..” by sweaty foot – Schwoißfuaß suitably was played on the jukebox.
Oral still had a crush on Jonathan, because he invited him to a common ski tour in the scorching dessert. At the summit on the icy vantage point Jonathan met again the Anglo-Saxon, brown-uniformed hereditary prince, who this time threw away a snuffy swastika band, sniffy running up the blue twelve-stars-banner, and saluting the victory-hail to bring back the lost European colonies. After a successful downhill ride with their Fischer skis, the expedition participants scaled a 1000 meter high ziggurat, from which they flew down with their paragliders to land on the airfield of the mirage. “The show must go on,” wrote a magic hand on the wall. By command, white tiger Darius kissed one of homo sex and really best magicians of the century, whereas trapped Toufik hid under a white satin blanket. Detected from Belshazzar, the white lion heartthrob Toufik was weighed and found wanting. The Lion made an end of his days, more or less ripped of his clothes, and dragged the primogeniture under big applause from the spectators in Daniel’s food den. The audience got out of hand in loudly calling for an encore, for a larger illusion show was only offered in the Coliseum by Emperor Vespasian or in Jonathan’s dreams. Centurion and Optio did not shed a tear for the runaway, lost gladiator son, since then the ticket problem was solved for the evening event.
Hence, the three apprentices went into the United Nations belonging 800 meters high Rotary-Clubtower. It was a safe bet, that they not really joined Thomas Gottschalk (many love you, joke, sorry), who was guiding through the secret meeting. After the guests walked through the walls of an ancient magic door, which was figured with winged lions and dragons, they were thrown on their faces. Except for Jonathan, who was suddenly ill with a heel injury, the lodge members had to bow down in front of a gold-plated, on iron-clay feet standing, bronze bull. Angela, the half-naked, angelical Miss Europe, just decorated the silver horns with flowers and posed in all positions like a Zeus God statue in front of the risen photographing idolaters. The international funeral feast in the full assembly hall offered waiters, whose distinctive mark was a white apron with the squared and encompassed names of honourable U.S. presidents. By the way, the food was excellent.
The illustrious circle of rulers, heads of states and kings already knew each other, since they had previously met at the funeral of one of their big bosses. The United Nations General Assembly was entertained by an unbelieving foolish TV presenter with white gloves, who arrived after a silver platter menu at the headquarters bet. He, who rides and keeps longest on the electric bull, shall receive the sceptre of the Lions Club, as a sign of the new world order. As we all know, it is impossible to keep on an angry, beating out, horned bull. However, a homely, small Nobel Peace Prize winner stood up and gave a fiery speech, with which she would stop the greatest genocide in history. Abortion is a work of the devil and the most violent and worst bestiality that ever was done on children, as life already starts in the womb. If the child murder continues, similarly to the order of insane Herod, Jesus will come back soon. This time, at his second coming, he will be accompanied by countless angels as “the Lion of the tribe of Judah” and “the Judge of all Mankind”. With loud booing from the members of the not with Judah sympathizing lionsclub, Saint Agnes was disqualified without even climbing on the terrible beast. Next, an unsuccessful award winner failed, who was an idiotic Arab terrorist elected for president, making his fortune with equally idiotic international assistance. Also other military uniform bearing, grown rich through fraud, otherwise brainless dictators were overthrown with great laughter from the formerly promoting mean machine. Neither the black belt, nor the Texas farm riding training, helped the various heads of governments to be thrown over the shoulder or to keep in the saddle. European royal rulers, who likewise came along on their high horse, were again thrown to the ground, as in dusty times. The poor, doomed, outdated, religious leaders, were separately considered suspicious. Were there – beside the famous representatives of world religions – not money loving televangelists and other crosses and swords carrying forced conversion knights? Specially surprised was the theology student over the black pope (does he really exist or has he to be elected first?), the black shoe salesman, the sex and foreign affair spouse of his manager, and the young blood loving senior walker of the not really most powerful man of the world. The clever, cunning clown used his fist as shield, once he overturned a buckler, to be elected again after a second windows-ballot-vote-count. In conclusion he anyhow failed to win the war against drugs, terror, countries and other lion-lodges-friends. Looking like little bit battle-tried, beer belly banking bosses or impressive, influential, international industry moguls had anyway no chance in the gruelling combat. That’s why the famous Hollywood science fiction action heroes rolled up one’s sleeves and got to work. In this particular case the earth had to be saved – kicking over the traces – as electric horsemen, whereat the scienter logy dumbest, shortest actor, who supposed to be very intelligent in wearing a blazing uniform with numerous bulbs, made the all-time-low. At the end of days, a JC-muscleman, whom people considered stupid, but truly was smart, established a new record as urban cowboy falling from the mechanical bull. After the final Grönemeyer song “Children in power” the lion-mane-Lord-joker handed over the iron government staff symbolically to a fantasy baby lying in a child-craddle, who had not the charm of the leggy, revealing assistants or the short-legged, scantily wrapped in a diaper baby Jesus in the nativity story.
Therewith, the aristocratic circle of thirteen family bloodlines, whichever controlled the largest federal world bank, didn’t want to leave alone. Therefore a greenback-presentation was held by their president Greenberg, how on earth the lions club can gain world dominion. The oil price should be pressed by a cartel over the hundred greenback mark, and inflation should be boosted up to total depreciation of money. Thus a new single currency could be easily inducted after the intended collapse of banks and corporate bankruptcies. As a result all insoluble immensely high government debts would be off the table. Then a new beginning with a new Messiah could be made. This extraordinary inspired alongside Jonathan seated Centurion, who this time held hands with Optio. First of all he wanted to invest his assets in artificial transactions on rising commodity prices, and in the second place he wanted to participate in the once existing gold reserves of the Federalbank. Foreign Minister Fischer successfully took part in the discussion that followed by his brilliant proposal to name the new world currency Eurodollar, which was carried unanimously. Seeing that age demented thinkers will not believe the story anyway, the authors grant the hero a sleep in the Luxor Pyramid Suite and continue the fiction in a moderate gear.
Actually, groundhog Jonathan had to drop off well on that day in the water-bed of the triangular hotel, but instead the cynic got one nightmare after the other. Repeatedly he slew in defending intention an Egyptian leader, followed by an unsuccessful assassination attempt on him, he was forced to flee into the desert, and so on and so forth. To escape the time loop and to switch the skivvies, he jumped out of bed to set an example at six o’clock. Without breakfast, he left the hotel for the waiting silver Lincoln Town Car stretch limo. He was relieved to be able to say good bye to the Egyptian culture and to his shifting for a living Roman friends. “Sorry to decline,” the dismissed probability calculator refused the co-partner offer in the gambling industry. Yet, the real purpose of his trip to the United States was theological training.
During the five hours drive back to Phoenix, the adventure hero Fischer found an attentive audience in the steering African-American Colburn. Describing himself illiterate, he still presented astonishing insights of life. When Jonathan arrived with the big sedan in front of Charlie’s house, Creflo was wonderstruck, and also the family of three of Mike Werthan staggered. Mike was a single father, who had to carry out of financial need two jobs. He too just arrived from the day care centre with his son Donald and the daughter Daisy in a threesome, like Huey, Dewey & Louie on the bike. At the end, the nice Jewish chauffeur Hoke invited all residents to make a test drive around the block with the comfortable seven-passenger vehicle, offering cooled, kosher Fanta.
Charlie, who seemed exceptionally not to enjoy the tour, kept his bad mood, for he invited Jonathan to come to his bedroom to have a conversation between you and me and the gatepost. The religious-police-man claimed that God had shown him repeatedly how Jonathan fell into sin and in great danger. Yes, even snakes and scorpions had attacked Jonathan in the spirit, what Charlie prevented through nonstop prayer. “Now you need to see a psychiatrist, I have done nothing illegal. On the contrary, I even prohibited that Tate impregnates Farrow too early,” the indignant argued to his defence. “Brian and Sharon are doing well in the land of Canaan. They just got married on the trial-by-fire-day in Las Vegas with Abraham and Sarah as witnesses. But thou hast been in bewitched Egypt and in debauched Rome. Right?” asked the three angels called forth Charlie. “Wait a minute, a couple of games in the hotel, a few entertainment shows, and a bit of delicious food doesn’t hurt nobody. You’re just jealous because I’ve won so much money.” In response, Charlie prayed that the Lord would open the eyes of the blind Samson before he enters a deadly collapsing house of cards. Thus, the conversation was over.
The national coach preferred to give outdoor football lessons for the Disney kids, while Mike prepared a delicious meat and onion pot which was so big that it would last out until the next day. Jonathan appetite was gone thoroughly. Therefore, he announced to fast and pray in order to find the will of God, as he sipped a tisane. All the day long watching TBN (Trinity Broadcasting Network), Mike gave him the appropriate book “Fasting” by Larry Prince, which the hungry pastors pupil devoured immediately. Soon after, the insatiable supplied himself with Derek Lea’s two classics “Pray with me for one hour” and “Hear God’s voice”.
To find more peace in the cool of the evening, Jonathan climbed via a ladder on the roof of the worship place and regarded overhead the numerous, in the sky projected aircrafts. It was getting darker. Innumerable stars appeared in the sky. First of all Jonathan numerated the newly learned eight Hebrew names of Yahweh from the Old Testament. Next, in bold faith, he urged to hear the voice of the God of Abraham. What was that? He meant to hear something from his chest or was it the rumbling stomach? The thoughts that were carried into his brain sounded that he should distribute his entire, recently won money to people in need, then he would get it back at a glance at home. Jonathan got more excited when a blurry image of his long-awaited woman was formed in his mind. Lying in bed, he tried again to bring it forth from his subconscious. He was eagerly interested in the colour of her eyes and hair. Was she like the favoured Sharon blond and blue eyed, or even like Maria dark coloured and brown-eyed?
On the following Sunday another figure fascinated Jonathan eminently. It was the senior pastor Tommy Barnett. Never had he experienced a speaker who could motivate people so much to contribute to the voluntary work and who supervised such a blessed work. Every person who honorary wanted to help in the church with a heart on Saturday was appointed as a deacon and given freedom to live out the God-given talents. Two hundred different services were initiated, of which the free, weekly bus pick-up service was the most popular one. A former employee who had taken on this matter was Bill Wilson. His continuation in the Metro Ministry in New York, where thousands of children in need are taken care of volunteers, later got an equally strong global popularity. Jonathan had already swallowed up some books from Tommy Barnett, of which he most liked “The miracle is in the House”. Like a baby nursing at the mother breasts, he was hungry for the word of God. In Germany he knew no place with the same charismatic atmosphere.
Tommy Barnett conducted an unloved act which is typical of American preachers. He collected plenty of money. The offering baskets went around. “So then, faith cometh by hearing, and hearing cometh by the word of God,” the motto of the sermon had burned in Jonathan’s mind. Without knowing what he was doing, he took two thousand dollars from his wallet and put it in the braided bucket. As in his first communion, he fainted and had to sit down. Charlie, one of many ushers in the church, attributed this to his fasting. “My God, what if it was the voice of the devil to give all the money?” the doubting hero had never donated such a high sum.
After the impressive piece of music “No other name, but the name of Jesus”, led by a huge orchestra and choir, the Evander Holyfield friend Barnett reported of his plan to jog as a long-distance runner through the desert to Los Angeles. He begged for a financial support to every run distance mile for the work of his son Matthew. Matthew Barnett just began a service among marginalized groups in one of the most feared places of Los Angeles. The church bought and renovated the formerly Catholic Queen of Angels hospital. When Jonathan subsequently heard the pastor’s son preaching for a short time, a spirit of jealousy spread out in him. Secretly he thought himself that this optimistic, blue-eyed beginner would never repeat the success of his father, for he will be pushed only due to his family ties into this job. The time would convince Jonathan of the contrary, because Matthew Barnett is now at least as famous as his father Tommy. The same jealousness was repeated at the herbal tea lunch, since Joel Osteen of Lakewood Church preached in the background in the TV. Never would this tongue-in-cheek, better to wear glasses, golden boy and sugar sweet milksop repeat the success of his father John Osteen, Jonathan was positive about. For the moment at least.
At the subsequent monopoly game with Mike and his children, Jonathan related his blackjack and chess experiences and asked the father what he thought of it. Mike claimed that all money gambling is from Satan and showed a little amusing dice game site from the New Testament. Thereunto fitting the epic film “The robe” was shown on TBN, or Daystar, or GOD TV in the background. Then the conversation focused on the future plans of the lone, former junkie. He also had been kicked out of his apartment, since he could not pay the rent. That surprised the “Yes we can” my battle-tested Shomari Obama, who studied in the CFR Jesuit newspaper the results of the democratic primary election, not. Making his next joke, Creflo begged for a change, claiming that money would have ears, if yes, we can cry loud enough. “Lord give me a white house with a pet dog,” was his newest, white-teeth, wide-mouth wit. Just as if drawn by an invisible hand, Jonathan drew twenty hundred dollar bills out of his wallet and handed it out. “Lord grant me two thousand dollars for my new apartment,” came out from the mouth of Mike Murdock (Sorry, confusion. The poor day labourer could not show his donations phone number on all Christian television channels and was known with his surname Werthan). The charitable money spectacle was repeated one more time: “Lord give me six hundred dollars for a new air conditioner,” Charlie came in addition, but first didn’t want to accept the money. “No!” Jonathan assured that the Lord has given him the order for this. Charlie added a Solomonic wisdom proverb, saying that quickly obtained wealth is also again quickly lost. Oh man, you could have bought a hailed VW Corrado VR6 Turbo with the dibs, went through the mind of the gift circle gambling patron, who packed one’s bag in the evening.
On the next morning, the richly rewarded friends laid their hands on the shoulders of their sponsor and blessed him so extensively and loudly as Jonathan had never heard or seen before. “Yes, he would certainly pray for him further for years and be very delighted when he moves in Brian’s room in the future,” was the farewell of Charles Pugliese, once he delivered the stunned student at the airport terminal.
During landing on Stuttgart airport, Jonathan could overlook the Filder townships and even the widow’s house in Castle Street. With unease, he wanted to dissolve the rented flat after a short time. Moreover, he wondered how his patron and chief Adolfo Massonico would respond to his request to take a sabbatical year. A personal interview was scheduled with the superior, who was a devout preacher in Mormons and Jehovah’s witnesses circles, wherefore he was not rapturous with the Pentecostal training requests. His directive was not to emigrate to the U.S. and just to think carefully whether he is called at all to preach in other languages. His blind parents were horrified by the project and reminded him how much they have financially supported the change of residence. In principle he owed them money. Even his first minister, the Protestant pastor and missionary George Müller, advised in an email from Kenya not to move into the United States. Cluttered with charismatic temple moneychangers, the wrath of God would certainly soon break out over the den of thieves. Jonathan was torn. He wanted to run with his head through the wall, finally he decided to stay in his home country. In the Letter of James he had read that God’s wisdom causes humility that is submissive and not selfishly seeking the own benefit.
Pursuing his usual work, Jonathan wondered where the settlement of his VW-Turbo warrants remained. His older colleague Jürg Schwarz, who had a sense of occasion and special know-how in forward transactions, kidded him with the reference to the actually existing restraint not to place securities orders on the answering machine. The true background why he had done nothing was that Porsche was close to insolvency and VW was just on the way to acquire a thirty percent majority. Induced by securities analysts and the stock market, who positively received the takeover rumours, the warrants had doubled in a short time. But why then was the displayed price in Las Vegas almost halved? “You jackass still had to convert the price of dollars in DM,” was the explanation of his schoolmaster Jürg, who knew him already as a trainee. Jonathan decided to sell the many years, daily pursued leveraged securities before the actual due date and reaped in this passed time a tax-free speculative profit equivalent of USD 6600. How could it be otherwise – to the summarily new purchased car only the right woman was missing. More to follow in the next chapter.