Brag
09-05-08, 02:34 PM
Officers' Club
Lt Kalb writes:
25 September 1940
It was still early and I was enjoying the spaciousness and solitude of the bar at the Château Dardinaq. After a patrol, it's a real pleasure to be able to reach out without touching something. Or not having some stinking bod right next to you. I read the newspaper and sipped on a citron presse. I was not happy when I heard the clicking of footsteps in the hallway.
The door flew open. Bernard Marched in, followed by Balz, who had a Walter P38 pistol in his hand and pointed at Bernard's head.
"Order ten cognacs," Balz growled.
Bernard approached the bar. "Ten cognacs, please."
"In French, you nitwit."
"Les ten cognacs, si'l vous plate."
The barman, poured Remi Martin into snifters and lined up ten cognacs on the bar.
"Pay the man," Balz said through clenched teeth, still pointing the pistol at Bernard. "Now, take a glass and place it on your head." Balz took a few steps backward, and said to the barman, "Now you can admire my superior marksmanship."
Balz took aim and fired.
The glass flew off Bernard's head.
"Haha, that was hoochie woochie. I am like a modern Wilhelm Tell. Except that Tell was Swiss so he shot at apples. Applause please, Monsieur le barman."
The barman clapped loudly and his face began to regain color.
"For the next round, grab un outre cognac and hold it with your teeth."
Balz reached for the bar, took a glass and downed it in one gulp. "This is to improve my aim." Balz grimaced. "Turn sideways, you dolt. I'm not going to kill you 'til later."
Bernard turned sideways to Balz.
"Just looking at you makes my hand shake. I Need to steady my aim." He took another glass off the bar and gulped it down. "Ach, that's better. Observe how the great Balz practices the great art of cognac pistolmanship. Oh you hoochie-woochie, all I need is to miss by a centimeter and all my problems are over. Sorry Admiral, I was aiming at the glass, honest.
"Einz, zwei, hoochie-woochie." Balz fired. The glass shattered. "Aha, this is fun. Viva la hoochie-woochie." He twirled and did a sort of tap-dance.
Taking advantage of Balz's distraction, Bernard shot for the back door, yelling,"Air raid, alaaaarm."
Balz pocketed his pistol, leaned on the bar and pointed at the remaining glasses. "If this glass is in front of the other glasses, are the other glasses behind the front one?"
"Mais oui, monsieur."
"How about if I say the glasses not in front are behind the front glass, because the front glass is not behind the glass that is behind the front glass?"
"That is correct. Monsieur."
"Glad to hear you agree and express adequate admiration for my superior intellect."
"Will the monsieur, not go after his friend?" The barman asked in a hopeful tone while wiping the counter.
"No need. That bastard never fails to get aboard my submarine. Now, if the last glass is not in front of the penultimate glass . . .
Lt Kalb writes:
25 September 1940
It was still early and I was enjoying the spaciousness and solitude of the bar at the Château Dardinaq. After a patrol, it's a real pleasure to be able to reach out without touching something. Or not having some stinking bod right next to you. I read the newspaper and sipped on a citron presse. I was not happy when I heard the clicking of footsteps in the hallway.
The door flew open. Bernard Marched in, followed by Balz, who had a Walter P38 pistol in his hand and pointed at Bernard's head.
"Order ten cognacs," Balz growled.
Bernard approached the bar. "Ten cognacs, please."
"In French, you nitwit."
"Les ten cognacs, si'l vous plate."
The barman, poured Remi Martin into snifters and lined up ten cognacs on the bar.
"Pay the man," Balz said through clenched teeth, still pointing the pistol at Bernard. "Now, take a glass and place it on your head." Balz took a few steps backward, and said to the barman, "Now you can admire my superior marksmanship."
Balz took aim and fired.
The glass flew off Bernard's head.
"Haha, that was hoochie woochie. I am like a modern Wilhelm Tell. Except that Tell was Swiss so he shot at apples. Applause please, Monsieur le barman."
The barman clapped loudly and his face began to regain color.
"For the next round, grab un outre cognac and hold it with your teeth."
Balz reached for the bar, took a glass and downed it in one gulp. "This is to improve my aim." Balz grimaced. "Turn sideways, you dolt. I'm not going to kill you 'til later."
Bernard turned sideways to Balz.
"Just looking at you makes my hand shake. I Need to steady my aim." He took another glass off the bar and gulped it down. "Ach, that's better. Observe how the great Balz practices the great art of cognac pistolmanship. Oh you hoochie-woochie, all I need is to miss by a centimeter and all my problems are over. Sorry Admiral, I was aiming at the glass, honest.
"Einz, zwei, hoochie-woochie." Balz fired. The glass shattered. "Aha, this is fun. Viva la hoochie-woochie." He twirled and did a sort of tap-dance.
Taking advantage of Balz's distraction, Bernard shot for the back door, yelling,"Air raid, alaaaarm."
Balz pocketed his pistol, leaned on the bar and pointed at the remaining glasses. "If this glass is in front of the other glasses, are the other glasses behind the front one?"
"Mais oui, monsieur."
"How about if I say the glasses not in front are behind the front glass, because the front glass is not behind the glass that is behind the front glass?"
"That is correct. Monsieur."
"Glad to hear you agree and express adequate admiration for my superior intellect."
"Will the monsieur, not go after his friend?" The barman asked in a hopeful tone while wiping the counter.
"No need. That bastard never fails to get aboard my submarine. Now, if the last glass is not in front of the penultimate glass . . .