Chapter 8 – The Stellar Career of Jonathan Fischer

The Stellar Career of Jonathan Fischer (cabaret wit chapter of ghostwriter Albert Stein alias “Pumuckel Einstein”, still unsuitable for small children and defiant despots)

After Jonathan Fischer’s trip to China and a following successful hip surgery returned the everyday professional life. In the first place, Adolfo Massonico, the retiring opera singing directorate of the Sandbank Denkenstadt eG was honoured in a farewell festive assembly. Anyway, his successor Gebhart Scharkfisch was an even bigger supporter and mentor of Jonathan.

As a start, an extraordinary episode came to pass with a widow from Iraq named Annahilde Abraham. The poor woman lived in Baghdad and had to suffer the tragic loss of her husband. Under the regime of Saddam Hussein he was publicly executed because of his Christian confession. In great fear, Annahilde fled with her ten-year-old boys across the Turkish border to Germany. She was very miracle-minded, for she told everyone that she could stroll through the closed border, since guardian angels would have put the border guards into a deep sleep. In Germany she was initially only tolerated and even threatened with deportation. Seeing that, a workmate of Jonathan called Gisela Dingeralm came into play. Her husband was deacon of the Protestant church in Denkenstadt. Through his collection of signatures and a petition that followed the family was not deported. Jonathan admired the cashier Dingeralm, since she went shopping every week with the widow and looked after her finances. The twin brothers Rimbo and Rambo were as alike as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, had little different preferences, and were hard to tame. Rimbo wore always a smurf hat and Rambo’s anytime, anywhere toy was a royal crown. The decision from Annahilde to give her boys in the care of the well-known football coach Andreas Mehrdarfer proved spot on. Andreas managed also a prosperous sports shop in Denkenstadt, besides his engagement in the football division of the TSV. The boys got as nicknames the flying lion and the flying dragon, for they excessively drank Red Bull, a drink which was not on the doping list and helped them to enforce the highest header wings. Moreover, they had an affection for garments which were imprinted with winged lions and dragons. Coach Mehrdarfer let them reluctantly fly away, but he realized that it was time to aim at a new club with the Stuttgarter Kickers. During his active career, Andreas reached with the team the final of the DFB Cup and therefore went around with the president. Thanks to the efforts of the twin striker pair, who got on like a house on fire in building a successful tongs-strike, the club could achieve the renewed rise into the upper league. The burning ambition of both was untameable, because after football practice they learned from the sprinters of the athletics section of the club how to bolt and thus lowered their one hundred meters time under eleven seconds. Some horned players’ agents shoved family Abraham, for they seemingly rammed a worthwhile food. Now, good shepherd Jonathan entered the pasture, since he knew the twin lambs as goalkeeper trainer in their nursing period of the TSV little sheep flock. Jonathan enjoyed it to compare the different proposals as a player agent and got an unbeatable offer of the Al Alhi Club in Dubai. Whereas the Iraqis spoke good Arabic and were still stateless, they got the promise to be immediately taken into the national team, in case of moving into the highly sophisticated new home emirate. So the family flew with Emirates, the best airline of the world, to Dubai, the most ambitious city in the world. When they left the airport portal and were guided into a Jaguar, Annahilde and her sons felt that they were just about to leave behind their poor Bedouin life by passing through the gate of a world full of wealth. In this country their assignment was waiting, in particular to enjoy the greatest prosperity and luxury. Henceforth the poor widow felt like in Abraham’s bosom. She could spend the rest of her life on the goat leather couch in her air-conditioned beach tent with a splendid sea view. Lifted up through the black gold like a phoenix from the ashes, nothing in the dessert town could be shaken sensed Anahild. The same thought had her twins, who both bought a multimillion penthouse apartment in two of the giant cloud towers near the artificial sand islands.

Jonathan received the request to work still as a soccer agent in the Muslim state and could withdraw from his bank. However, he didn’t. His new mentor Scharkfisch sent him to one continued education seminary after the other at the cooperative academies in Hohenheim and Montabaur. Fully concentrated, Jonathan could improve his studies, achieving excellent results.

But everything turned out even better. A customer and party comrade, financially advised for many years by Jonathan, for whom he often walked the dog, became successful in politics and society. His name was Max Moritz Straussinger. Max Moritz experienced a meteoric rise with his idea of bringing together the influential and rich members of the high society in exclusive reunions organised by him. He even gained a good reputation as a matchmaker in aristocratic circles. Thus, he managed to hook a biking, war-worn paddle pond minister up with a chatting, sexy playmate countess. Aptly meeting the political haut gout, he received cosmopolitan awards. Being overweight in body and in conveying tanks, submarines and weapons, the gun enthusiast enriched the smaller Volksbank through the fattening of his slaughtered piggy bank. To make it bigger, Straussinger wanted to establish a foundation for which he needed Jonathan’s help. Bank account authorised Jonathan should play the cashier too. The payment for this volunteer work was royal. In principality Jonathan was promised to come together with some higher blue bloods. More lustful the trip started from Stuttgart to Vaduz to aim at a Greek investor group associated establishment. Upon arrival in the marble hall of the Hotel Diana they met only an Arab queen who promptly invited them for a delicious gala dinner. In the middle of the pillared entrance hall the hostel had as eye-catcher with special attraction a poly-busty statue of Artemis. The playboy Max-Moritz had the idea to invite some bunnies for a glass of champagne in the Elizabeth Separee. Jonathan especially liked the young photographer Petra. That’s why he wondered which career she is making.

“In view of the oldest profession of the world I do in here sit, waiting for the promised bid of dibs.”

Straussinger and the strumpets laughed lustily, Jonathan bailed out, off the hook, he hopped into his house, detecting another mouse.

In good mood he found the room soon, looking for the mattress, to pick up on the mistress.

He lifted the curved blanket, including dessous lying strumpet.

As a Christian groom to moon, his threshold went over in art, the public woman haven’t played one’s part.

Taking the teleguidance he was not seeking for another wife, watching out for Joyce Meyer in enjoying everyday life.

But Jonathan had to turn off the TV, no more take off females to see. The directors were dirty swine, which behaved that there programme is fine.

Therefore in the twinkling of an eye, the deep thinker went out like a light.

On the following day the German national football team played in the World Cup final against the Liechtenstein dwarf team, which had appeared at the scene of the home World Championships like a giant. However, no-one was surprised about this success, for Alois, Hereditary Prince of Liechtenstein, had previously bought the best players in the world and naturalized them at the drop of a hat.

Max-Moritz received two Arena tickets through a buy over invitation of an enlightening bank:

The Kaiser-Lounge was reserved for them, filling Jonathan with amazement. The Prince was an expert in money, the Emperor was an expert in football, the Chancellor was an expert in the reunification, and the released woman at his side was an expert in sending text messages. The heir to the throne boasted of his bank, which secretly and securely accepted deposit money, the chancellor Helmut boasted of a reunion for solidarity little money, the kaiser Franz boasted about two World Cup titles and earned much money, wherefore he chose the domicile Austria. The divorced successor Angela on Helmut’s separating side was the really clever one, being informed from all sides. Angie embraced Jonathan every time after Jürgen Klinsmann’s seven diving header goals. Anyhow, the six overhead kick goals from Jay Göppingen followed a genuine concern. Alas, the colossal live spectacle came to an end, the celebrities shook their hands. The final score was seven to six for Germany, wherefore the international law offended country father disappeared in his art goods deprived palace. Time was over in the VIP area, since the fourth empire had won castle high.

Max-Moritz and Jonathan went into one of the many discreet sanctuaries of the mini state. As it turned out it was the most princely & pricey of all. The Swiss trustee introduced oneself as Benedictus Chamberlain and was amused that his organ and the Regensburger Domspatzen (cathedral sparrows) didn’t already piped & twittered it out. Jonathan was impressed by the numerous medals and awards of the Lord Honorary Consul with the white gloves, hanging at his columns. A lesson was hold how millions can be profitably hid. The plan was to establish a foundation for the help of disabled people combined with public advertisement to get donations. On trust, the money should be managed by the Liechtenstein National Bank and nobody should know that Straussinger is behind the foundation. Agent Benedictus would be on the receiving end of the outside world, holding the true interconnection in a safety deposit box. On the basis of his continuing education Jonathan interrogated whether there could be a stinking problem for money laundering or tax evasion. “Ugh, that’s disgusting! Where would we be then?” responded the Geneva advocate, using a French perfume. In conclusion his powdered clientele was composed of the Bacardi boozing mafia, water pipe smoking princes, party donating exile arms dealer, and pear-shaped chancellors. As a matter of fact, half of the EU government controlled aid budgets for Palestine were multiplied from the faithful Christian for a Parisian Maltese Muslim widow. “If and when the politicians even know about it, then the thing couldn’t be so wrong,” noticed Jonathan. Serving the needs of humanity, the philanthropist attested that yet the party donations were secretly knitted into grannies trusts. Many documents had to be signed at the altar-style desk, while “the holy chamberlain” revealed one ironic mystery after the other. He had a radiant, hollow, extraterrestrial, grinning crystal skull named Emil standing on his secretary, which he buried together with the signed, intra muros wills in the safe, fabricated by the company Steinberger. The deal was sealed with a sip of apple juice from paradisaical Mayan crystal skull glasses. Max Moritz kissed the ring of the Sovereign Grand Inspector General and said goodbye. Leaving the eighteen-story granite building they met King Hussein with a Damocles sword on his old warhorse and were en passant conferred to Rosicrucian Knights. Shiver me timbers! Such a life Jonathan had imagined.

When he mentioned the events to his commander-in-chief with the nickname Fürst Gebhart, the most envious one decided to give him a new task. This was pretty much okay with Jonathan, for the greasy case smuggling to Switzerland in the long run could strike into the Maltese cross.

Jonathan should prove his top qualities as real estate agent, whilst he was allowed to broker a practically unsaleable polygon. The object was in the prime location of Birkenkopf at the top edge of Stuttgart, but designedly had no windows apart from a rooflight. The freelance mason and architect was the deceased head of the Stuttgart Observatory, who had an inclination for the bright-dark powers of his triangular world. Passing a monumental sphinx, the only entrance opened up through the underground garage, and the only way for ventilation offered the cockloft, where his custom-built Carl Zeiss telescope and a cat door window were on the move. The world famous building was a pyramid with a nightmarish familiarity. The lady of the haunted house, Lore Osiris, died a few years ago from a rare disease that prevented her to leave the darkness of her home. The host himself was the well-known Egyptian astronomer Ramses Ra, who mysteriously crashed through the roof of the observatory into death. The main reason of Jonathan’s brokerage problems lay in the fact that his client – the daughter and famous fortune teller Magdalena Osiris-Ra – had to fulfil a specific legacy. In the basement of the house remained the bones of both parents. There was a system with 33 grave niches, through which the two parental coffins had to traverse according to a predetermined schedule. The burial niches were arranged in tiers, and every 13 years the sarcophagi should be lifted up a step higher. The owner of the object had to bind oneself to this procedure, otherwise the house had to be passed on to a caring foundation. After the unsuccessful advertisement in Immobilien Scout 24 and Immowelt, Jonathan got the flash of inspiration how he conjuring could flog the object still for the desired sum of 666,000 DM. Without any engagement he sent a binding exposé to David Geller, the world famous magic grandmaster with a seasonal home in Las Vegas. To be hooked and on fire, the one and only desperately wanted to have the telescope and the sphinx for a new flight number. Forthwith, the summoning artist cooked up an oracle which allowed him to charm the desired object entirely free. A collaborative notary appointment with Uwe Baumann was arranged. Magdalena and Jonathan asked if it is possible to put in place something like a right of residence for the deceased and not coming to rest souls. The shrewd VIP notary bite into a paradise apple, getting a much better idea. He sold the upper part to Geller and drafted a declaration of division in which the basement was sold to a David Geller Foundation for 666,000 DM. The purpose of the Foundation was to acquire the right for other triangle believers to let their ash urn move higher every 13 years. Jonathan was interested in the newspaper as unprecedented 13 billion British pounds were deposited in the foundation stock. The trustee Geller had induced an anonymous auction at Sotheby’s for the limited gravestone sites, where the unexpected amount of money was paid. Since this is a fiction, the rapporteurs let out the trade secret for the interested readers and reveal that even the Queen of England wanted to entomb her cousin in Stuttgart.

Jonathan’s flight of fancy made his friend Gebhart Scharkfisch too weird. Such being the case, he decided to transfer his Achilles’ heel pursuer. In the fast-growing neighbouring community Scharnhauser Park currently a confraternity building with the name Park Haus was completed. Now, the bank intended to rent the lower spaces and to establish a branch. Jonathan would thus get the chance to prove whether he had qualities in personnel management. The wily shark Scharkfisch usually did not let go his prey. All the more irritated him the instructions of the admiral of the cooperative fleet Kuhn to draw Fischer ashore, for taking over the tiller of the Sandbank flagship. Jonathan wanted to prove that he was capable even of the smaller haul, looking forward to his new crew. A Greek shipowner named Christonassis was put aside, who – roll-your-sleeves-up – wore a golden lip glaze. Catching customers, Benedicte Blessing angled casting the nickname sylph Sabrina. With renewed strength part-time worker Netti Schneider reeled the capture. Nice Schneider helped the children of the community Ostfildern in the sisterly Prisma building to handle the scissors in turning on the spectral light. All the more the nets were filled, which prompted Jonathan to hire two sailors. The helmsmen Alesandro Spitze and Bert Höfig became two of his most helpful followers. Subsequently the new captains navigated two caravels with the crew members Zony Radab, Erika Cartier, Ralf Schwarz, Tobi Kumwei, Jo Mindo, and Jürg Kurz. Fischer in his brotherly flagship discovered large shoals of fish in western climes, once the following tragedy occurred:

Magician Geller wanted to set a world record on the Cannstatter folk festival, flying 130 metres as cannonball through the air. Out of nowhere, the telescope and the sphinx should appear after his successful landing. The private jet was filled in Phoenix with plenty fuel for conflict, and no wonder was forced in New York to make an emergency landing. Somehow, the control stick was led as if by an invisible hand through the magic autopilot. Even here, the air rudder bending Geller and his readily vanishing in thin air copilot Copperfield found an incantation, so that the haunted jet could continue after corrective maintenance its magic flight to Germany. Above the clouds of Stuttgart the game repeated in a demonic way. Actually, the Israeli counterpart Uri Copperfield couldn’t help himself in sending loud curses to heaven. The outboard camera tilt a turn to Stuttgart, the town entered on the autopilot. This Friday, the thirteenth in September, went down as Nine Thirteen in all history books. It was about nine o’clock and thirteen minutes. Jonathan was in the Gottlieb Daimler Stadium to witness a long time sold out concert of Led Zeppelin. Led Zeppelin was elected to the temporary number one of the everlasting SWR3 listener charts with the song “Stairway to Heaven”. The lead singer Robert Plant just raised his voice at the place “Ooh, it makes me wonder” whereby for all visible a blazing, flying object with unbelievable speed loomed ahead in the sky. The fans turned around towards the Folk Festival, thinking to track a spectacular part of the incredible stage show.

There were still three more open air concerts in the region. On the Stuttgarter Schloßplatz under the US chief conductor George V. Schikaneder (codename: 3 x triangl3 walk3r / THREE DELTA WALKER) Mozart’s magic flute was performed. The masterpiece had directly arrived at the second act, the trials in the temple of wisdom. The Viennese Jesuit priest sang the humming baddy-basso Sarastro and announced: “Oh Isis and Osiris, led them see the fruits of their probation, but if they fail they shall go down to the grave.” On the open-air stage of the Killesberg high-altitude park played a black metal group called mega Egyptian death in front of a coked up heavy metal community an interpretation of an AC/DC piece. The message: “I’m on the high way to hell, no stop signs, speed limit,” hammered repeatedly into deaf ears. Reaching the peak, a screechy crowd of thirteen Wiccans celebrated the witches’ sabbath. Wrapped in the mysterious light of the full moon, the rubble mountain of Stuttgart offered the scene for a bonfire ride of the valkyries. This performance was more reminiscent of Hansel and Gretel, because the audience consisted of two like-named black cats. The moaning courting couple got on heat, anticipated the danger, bit its way to freedom, and escaped.

The pandemonium took its course wider. Bleeding hell! An unskilled aide of the New York airport had replaced the navigation system with a mistaken cruise missile to the point that all blasphemies and dams of the two crash pilots were doomed to fall. Just for the fun of it, Geller had beforehand entered the target number Birkenkopf 13, to impress his friend Copperfield with the overflight of the Bastet-Re-tribute site, which was illuminated from all sides from four huge spotlights. As a result, an impressive show with unprecedented speed could be photographed by many mobile phones. Jonathan switched his digicam on movie mode, since he thought this sky recording would be well placed on his http://www.JonathanFischer.de website. In effect and on the long run it went to be the most viewed clip on the Internet. The excessive noise of the inflamed, reverse thrust mode aircraft engines got louder all along, as far as the time bomb struck the enlightened goal of the Ramses Pyramid. The murderous explosion with a massive distraction of debris parts from the house was still better to see at the Castle Square. The present children applauded for they thought it would be already the advertised Mozart ball fireworks. Nevertheless, the flying object was pulverized and the ashes of the pilots were found in the car dump dungeon of the cellar. The two souls could console each other in eternity to have saved up the money for the taxi ride from Stuttgart Airport. The recording of the black box quickly reached number one of the occult Goth charts. The dark-clad pale-faces heard the last minutes not only happily in their homes on cassette, but even laid out the drawn tapes on the roads.

To let the cat of the bag, a German fairy tale is set …

Hänsel and Gretel ran through the wood,

petting peri followed coursing on foot.

On the Bastet pyramid the cats had fled,

for hags tried to tore the fur from head.

Swiftly the household pets run up the stairs,

the desperate housewives pursued in pairs.

The moggies brought the game to the boil,

while the human haunters lost their soil.

On top, the cat door brought them in security,

to top their tormentors in the glowing furnace of eternity.

For heavens sake, the troubled witches on Walpurgis Night burned on stake,

since seven or nine lives having pussycats are always landing softly on four legs.

Jonathan was favoured by fortune through the grave misfortune, for the star notary Baumann appointed him as property manager of the David Geller Foundation. Grand vizier Fischer reflected upon the future of the Egyptian chamber tomb. So he tendered an international architect’s competition. The craft sang from the same hymn sheet in the dry bones conception of a monument respectively memorial, instead of brick-laying a new building. They found a suitable transfer object with the goddess Concordia jubilee column on the Castle Square. Only the Green Group of the Stuttgart City Council prohibited the common harmony. On this occasion, the idea that saved the project came from the smiling, newly voted 33 day Pope. Being himself a small, humble man who washed each time the feet of his audience visitors, he auctioned on eBay to the highest bidder his smothered with kisses signet ring for the support of AIDS orphans in Kenya. Then the size of the obelisk in St. Peter’s square started to scare the Pontifex Maximus, who branched off from sun gods in turning away the phallus. At least, he could bestow his homeland a favour in transferring the stumbling block from the seven hill, bridge building town Rome up to the Monte Scherbelino. To the primary place came a simple wooden cross that was carried through all countries from the hobby archaeologists Ron Wheeler, who had discovered the Ark of the Covenant. Only Saudi Arabia wanted to refuse access to Ronald, the Grail Knights Templar, since he came across the Red Sea. Finding Solomon’s two pillars for the memorial of the passage through the sea of reeds, he was detected and imprisoned. The push over of the twelve remaining celestial trophies in Rome, invoked by the anger of the people, gave sleepless nights. On the other side, sudden irrational acts are difficult to understand and hard to explain. Not so with a Geneva officer of the Swiss Guard who peacefully deceased in his bathtub with whatever help. The inaugurated bank secretary began to walk in one’s sleep, happily hopping from her office window. Her bank director played hide and seek in London, carrying clinkers in a park, until he breathed his last fresh air on a pillow which was a braided rope. Even the mammon hating pope gave up the ghost, being released in his digitized bathroom from his cramps. Only the chief baker had temporarily a nightmare in which a two-headed eagle ate a four-stepped Egyptian ziggurat birthday cake from his head, then severed his throat, and finally pulled out his tongue and heart.

Money doesn’t buy happiness, reflected Jonathan, by the time he had reallocated the 13 billion pounds trust assets from equity and real estate funds in DM day-to-day money, ascribed to his own branch. A following major crisis in the financial markets confirmed once again his good intuition. Gebhart Scharkfisch was not amused that Jonathan’s new branch exceeded his Sandbank headquarter 39 times. He was fit to be tied and therefore forged out a plan of revenge. The Bank Contact Business Partner Credit Evaluation (German abbreviation BGG) was introduced. Every conversation had to be troublesomely filed at the PC. Even for the centenery of Grandma’s girlfriend they should conjure a jubilee book. The overcharged, rowing slaves on their galleys found no prescription against this drumming Punch with the wild tact time requirements and were close to drown with all hands in this dashed BGG regattas.

Jonathan, who was proud of his IM title, reminded this all monitoring method of the everything noting down Stasi (State Security of the GDR). From another culture of control he heard in an article about Ron Hubbard, the former leader of the Scientology cult. With a fixed gaze he trained for hours to look into the eyes of his opposer without blinking. In a face vision Fischer had a crack at beating championship rival Tom Cruise through breathing on him the Holy Spirit to put him of his stride. By the way, that was enough to drive him up the wall. The totalitarian officer promptly lost to win at least as Top Gun the aerial battle in Iraq for President George W. Bush.

The rhyming fiction ends as follows:

Not to start with, the congregation for the doctrine of faith was alarmed from the Cardinal Prefect at the polygraph.

Aphorism they knew enough, hearing the truth made it tough.

With a loud rooftop shout, they were sending Jonathan flying out.

They forced him upset to go, since he was steeling their show.

Fischer swam in money as Simon Peter in his great catch of fish, what Scharkfisch didn’t wish.

10 billion to the Stuttgarter EKK by Jonathan was remitted, and 3 billion for the Volksbank Plochingen eG fitted.

Praying man of affairs Franz-Volker Deichmann couldn’t believe his fortune, until ERF and Bibel TV was in tune.

Jonathan wrote all amusing quotes, Pumuckel Einstein, Wikipedia, and Google showed.

Often chatting, often laughing, often finding the funniest anecdotes googling.

All Jonathan Fischer readers fall Fridays smirking kneeling down, listening to the next sermon from the clown. Worldwide intergalactic fun, none!?

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