Chapter 14 - Cleaning Up the Act

Close to midnight, after the audience, especially the police officer, had left the premises, we could pack up and tear out the power connection without anyone asking difficult questions. While the others were out mending the pavement, I was left in the shadows, polishing the spit off my hornhelmpipe. From this vantage point, I saw a tear-stained, red-eyed landlord kneeling in the corner of the bar, where he had put up a shrine to Saint Frigida, patron saint of lost marriages caused by miscommunication (if any) and differentiation of interests over time. He only noticed me when my instrument started resonating from rubbing the beer stained edge.

'Please don't tell anyone. My reputation, you know?'

'What is there to tell?' I answered. 'Nothing wrong with some emotions, whether they are caused by private issues or the fantastic performance we just gave. Nothing to be embarrassed about, is there?'

'Well actually, there is.' The barman said, as he stood up and wiped his face with the bar towel (this didn't really help, apart from possibly disinfecting his face, if he used the bit that contained the spilled whiskey. His facial expression indicating that this might well be the case). 'My wife left me because I ruined her world.'

'How did that happen?' I couldn't stop myself asking.'

'Well, apparently, I accidentally must have logged on under her account and built my favourite football club stadium right where she was planning to build her version of the Taj Mahal. Even after I removed the whole thing, which had taken me ages to build, she claimed that I had desecrated the holy ground and it wouldn't be the same ever again.

I even promised her to build her an Eiffel tower on the side to make up for it, but she argued that that was a typically male phallic symbol which she would never ever tolerate anywhere near her and how I got the nerve to even suggest it. Mentioning the similarity of the four minarets at the Taj Mahal didn't help at all. After that and nearly 25 years of marriage, she just walked out on me, only to return five minutes later to collect the computer and slam the door for a second time. As far as I know, she moved back in with her elderly parents.'

'When was that?'

'Oh, that must have been some five years, two months, five days and three hours ago.'

'That's pretty accurate sir...'

'I know. I set a timer to see how long it would take for her to come back. There it is, next to Saint Frigid. Haven't heard a word since. I guess she isn't coming back after all, although we are still technically married (unless I missed something). The trouble is, that computer also contained my personal e-mail and the financial records of this venue. I now have a lot of work keeping the tax collectors at bay. No time for myself really.'

'Did you ever try to contact her?'

'No. I never dared. Apart from that, my address book was also on that computer. I'm not really sure where her parents actually live nowadays.'

It was only then that I noticed the Twins had come in. Just looking at them, grinning and jumping up and down with clenched fists at shoulder height, I knew what they were thinking. Star had already pulled out her smartphone from who knows where and asked for the name of the barman's wife, thumb at the ready.

After some hesitation, the double-barreled bambi-eye stare made the barman give in and tell the Twins the details of his probable wife, including her gamer tag. Thanking the man, they promised him they would try their best, before pulling me outside for our extended goodnight ritual.

Caiman Raptor Elk

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