Battle of the Rhine

Michael's weekends usually followed a set schedule: on Saturdays he would sleep until noon, eat something casually at noon, and then go out for a walk in the afternoon and find a movie to watch.He watches all kinds of movies, including "The Seven-Year Itch" several times.On Sundays he went to church and spent time there.Everyone liked him because Michael was a serious and devout believer, generous with a warm sense of humor.When a woman introduced her daughter to him, Michael declined with a smile.

"I'm too old to be her uncle."

No one could guess what Michael was praying for. "Please forgive him," Michael prayed to God every day, "it's all my fault, let me bear it alone...he is innocent, and I am guilty..."

This Saturday, Michael really couldn't find a movie to watch.The city is nothing to look at, and it doesn't have the color and atmosphere of European cities at all.Michael really didn't understand, the United States obviously has a vast land, why can't it create a few Paris, London and Munich as it is?Bland buildings, huddled together like clusters of mushrooms after a rain.The sky was gray, not like the cloudy weather in Europe.The clouds in Europe are pearly in color, and even if it is gloomy and about to rain, it will not be annoying.Michael bought two newspapers and read them in the car.No point, he bought another magazine.A report caught his eye: A film, "Sissi," had been released in West Germany, and the response was strong.The name brought back memories of Michael, Princess Sissi... Ah, yes, Neuschwanstein Castle, he rolled up the magazine and stuffed it under the seat, yes, Neuschwanstein Castle...

"It is rumored that Ludwig II was gay."

He took a lot of pictures of Quincy that day.Quincy stood there like a lord of a castle.His appearance is very suitable for these castles and palaces. The prince in fairy tales probably looks like him.Unfortunately, Michael didn't have time to develop the film.He thought about mixing the potion himself before, but...

Michael drove back, rummaging through boxes for film.No, not even a Leica camera.Maybe it was in some luggage, rolled up with his old clothes; maybe it was left at home in Arizona; maybe it was left in the dorm room in Bonn.After leaving Quincy he completely lost interest in taking pictures.What are you doing taking pictures?This gray world is not worth wasting film at all.

Nothing to do, no movies to watch.Michael poured a cup of coffee and lay on the bed fiddling with military badges.God knows how he'd thought "Von" was Quincy's middle name!Does Quincy have a middle name?He didn't ask.Generally nobles have a very long name.Michael guessed for a long time, Karl Heydrich von Quinnessy, yes; Karl Heinz von Quinnessy, too.There is a six-hour time difference between Germany and Detroit. At three o'clock in the afternoon, Munich should be nine o'clock at night.Is Quincy reading?Or date that woman named Lehman?Three years, if all goes well, they should all have a child.A blond boy with pretty blue eyes, green eyes, or gray eyes.In his mind Michael called the kid Carl Jr.Carl Jr. gotta learn from his daddy, he grunted, "Don't draw your tongue, oh, 'see-bye-'"

Michael was asleep, wrapped in his coat.When he woke up, the street lamps were already on.At seven o'clock, he hadn't eaten yet.It was already three o'clock in the morning in Munich, "Good night." Michael got up and kissed the military badge.He was a little unspeakably uncomfortable, feeling empty and bored.

Michael picked up the car keys and went out, first went to the grocery store to buy a bunch of food.Bread, tins, sausages and beer.Mary criticized his bad habit of eating canned food, thinking that it was a "war sequelae".The canned food was fine, Dan seriously retorted to his wife, simple, easy, no hassle.Michael laughed out loud.

He sat in the car and ate sausages, swallowing the casings.After filling his stomach, he drove around the city in his car.Something was really wrong, a fire burned in his stomach, making him feel uncomfortable all over.But Michael is not unfamiliar with this fire, and this is also the dirty part of people-no matter how much he prays to God every night and recites the Bible, his sexual desire is always lingering.

Michael drove the car, tapping the steering wheel irritably.Now he had to go home, take a cold shower and sleep.Or find a bar—"the kind" bar, and get your eyes on it.Disgusting, he cursed himself, low, vulgar, shameless, satyr. "Sooner or later you will pay for this lust and die of syphilis. What did old Michael do wrong to give birth to a son like you..." He pinched his thigh angrily, but it was useless, he was so low, indecent, and shameless A nymphomaniac.

It's a big city and there are more men than women. "Normal" men are not very good, otherwise there will not be a huge group of wandering warblers.Under street lights, on street corners, and in alleys, problems can be solved with a little money.Michael wasn't interested in women, he tried, the Playboy cover girl was hot, but it didn't arouse his desire.Quincy was right, Michael admired the beautiful curves of those girls, but he would never masturbate to the pictures.After passing through an intersection, he finally found the target he was looking for, or in other words, he was locked as a target.

A teenager came over and knocked on his car window, "Do you want someone to accompany you?"

blonde hair.Michael looked him over, opened the car door and let him sit in.There was a strong smell of cigarettes, "Going to your house?" the boy said, "You need to pay extra to go to your house."

"Okay." Michael agreed briefly.

And so he committed another crime, a felony.Fiennes, you are promising, his thoughts imitated Mary's tone, "You dare not enter a brothel in France, and now you dare to hire a prostitute - you deserve it if you get caught! You trash..."

"Better to shoot me," he thought, "boom—the world is clean."

After taking the boy back, Michael asked him to take a shower. "Use this." He had a new bar of soap, "Nothing else."

The boy was quite obedient, and he washed himself clean, with a smell of inferior soap essence.Before he wiped something on his face, Michael frowned while drinking beer, "How old are you?"

"Nineteen." The boy brushed his hair carelessly, "What are you doing?"

"……to be honest."

"I'm eighteen." The boy showed a trace of impatience, "Why do you ask this?"

"How old are you?"

"I'm not enough and you won't sleep with me?"

"Correct."

"Fuck, then you're fucking wasting my time, you're sick!" the boy cursed and threw the towel on the floor.He put on his pants and bounced like a rabbit.Michael grabs him and tucks him into the couch.He has great strength and skillful movements. The boy was terrified and hugged his shoulders tremblingly, "Are you a murderer?"

"What?" Michael couldn't understand, "What murderer?"

"Will you kill me?"

"I'm not crazy, why do I want to kill someone?"

The boy stared at him, blond hair, not blue eyes.Michael sat across from him, "How old are you this year?"

"……sixteen."

"Ok?"

"Okay, I'm fourteen, and I'm going to be fifteen soon." The boy, no, it should be said that he was a boy, puffed out his thin chest, "What's wrong?"

"You should go home and go to school." Michael opened a bottle of beer again, "Fourteen, you haven't gone to high school yet."

"I don't want to go to school anymore." The boy watched his movements carefully. "School is boring."

"You're already strong enough to hang out on the street?" The taste of American beer was really weak, Michael patted his stomach, "Go back to school."

"My mother died, and my father didn't care about me," said the boy. "He said I was a sissy, which made him lose face. I ran out. I think it's good here, I can make money, and no one make me study."

"How long can you sell yourself?"

"Whatever you want, you can arrive whenever you can."

"Go to school." Michael took out his wallet and took out a ten-dollar bill. "Here you go, go home."

The boy looked greedy when he saw the money.He stretched out his finger to touch the bill, "What service do you want, sir?"

"Don't want anything, get out." Michael now felt that this was a farce, God was warning him, "Next time I see you on the street, I'll call the police."

"Can I stay with you for one night?" The boy took the ten dollars. "I haven't slept in a serious bed in a long time."

whatever.Michael ignored him and drank alone.He read for a while, and the boy turned on the TV, giggling at the boring show.Then Michael walked over to watch TV too, boring, said his spirit, but a silly laugh came out of his mouth.He drank and forgot the time.His eyes snapped open, and thankfully he had time to get to church and take a shower before he went.

The boy put on his clothes and was stealing his bread.Seeing Michael, he raised his head curiously, and said in broken French, "Good evening!"

"It's morning," Michael said. "Go home after eating, you hear?"

"Are you a foreigner?" said the boy. "Your English is so good! I thought you were an American!"

"I'm a fucking American," Michael said inexplicably, "what are you crazy about?"

"You were drunk last night and grabbed my hand—"

"I didn't do anything bad!" Michael was terrified, and cold sweat broke out immediately, "Hey, little guy, I didn't take you—"

"No, you just grabbed my hand and kept talking in a foreign language, crying while talking." The boy smiled and gestured, "I don't understand. It's a bit like English, but it's not English. I guess it's French? I'd just say, 'Good evening!'"

"It's German." Michael let out a long breath, "I haven't spoken it for a long time."

"You call me 'Carl,'" the boy demanded. "Who is Carl? Does he owe you money?"

Michael was silent.Carl, "He's a very nice person." He sat down on the chair and pressed his painful temples dejectedly, "He didn't owe me money, I owed him... Oh, get out of here, goodbye. "