Englisch & Sport am Gymnasium ... und ein bisschen Tango

Much Ado about a Lorgnette

… ist der Titel eines phan­tas­ti­schen Tex­tes mei­ner LK-Schü­le­rin Eve­lyn Rei­ter. Aus­gangs­punkt für die­se crea­ti­ve wri­ting Auf­ga­be war ein Bei­trag im SZ-Maga­zin (zip), in dem Pho­tos von Gegen­stän­den gezeigt wur­den, die alle an einem Tag in der Lon­do­ner U‑Bahn lie­gen­ge­blie­ben sind. Dar­un­ter sind herr­lich bizar­re Sachen wie ein Gebiss, ein Mega­phon, eine Gieß­kan­ne, eine Gum­mi­schlan­ge und ein Opern­glas (engl. lor­gnet­te). Die Schü­ler soll­ten sich nun irgend­ei­nen Gegen­stand wäh­len und dazu eine Geschich­te schrei­ben. Im Lau­fe mei­ner Unter­richts­tä­tig­keit habe ich zwar schon vie­le sehr gute und sogar her­vor­ra­gen­de Geschich­ten bekom­men, aber eine GEREIMTE Geschich­te ist ein ech­tes Novum.

Much Ado about a Lorgnette

In a shi­very and eerie night,
When peop­le, poli­ce and pan­hand­lers are out of sight,
I descen­ded into the yaw­ning sub­way-abyss,
As if to recei­ve Hades’ bit­ter kiss.

But I wasn’t alo­ne,
No, was not on my own.
I felt her next to my shoul­der,
Tremb­ling and shaking,
As if she got col­der.
She came clo­ser to me.

Some days ago,
My friend gave me a call
And asked me to go out with Dar­by.
He pro­mi­sed her to be nice and tall
And smart like my ex-girl­friend Abby.
But she was no beau­ty at all,
No queen and not even a lady.
She didn’t look slim like a Bar­bie-doll
And even her clothes were shab­by.

But her eyes, oh her eyes,
They were nice, oh, so nice!
They were blue mixed with green,
They were shiny and keen,
Their look used to be soft
And their las­hes were aiming aloft.

I spent all my money on her.
Made her scream “Oh, dear Sir!”,
When I took her to “La Tra­via­ta”,
Made her lis­ten to Netreb­kos’ can­ta­ta.
After­wards it hap­pen­ed to occur,
That we went into a bar,
Whe­re we boo­zed “Bloo­dy Mary” and shared a cigar,
Until both of us were fee­ling bizar­re.
Then we had to lea­ve,
To my very gre­at reli­ef,
‘Cau­se my money was gone.

So we couldn’t dri­ve home with a cab,
But ent­e­red the sub­way.
While I tried to save mys­elf from a nap,
We got on a train, tired from the long day,
And nest­led down on a pad­ded seat
And stret­ched out our poor, tired feet.

Whilst she play­ed with her lor­gnet­te
We sat on this slea­zy couch as one lies on his day­bed.
We got thril­led by dri­ving and ramb­ling ahead
And I squee­zed her right hand,
All­u­red by her nails pain­ted blood-red.

We got hit by a scream
And as if we had slept,
We lifted our heads
And faced that sce­ne:
An old lady was cry­ing and cur­sing,
Two fat guys were giggling and gag­ging.

I tried to figu­re out for mys­elf,
To be or not to be –
My body wan­ted to be knight­ly and bra­ve,
But damn! My heart couldn’t agree.

Befo­re my mind could deci­de,
Which side to give in,
I jum­ped up with a grin.
Now I felt that hell was near­by,
Now I had the desi­re to loo­sen my tie.
But the­re was no tur­ning back!
Well, I deci­ded to attack:

Return the pur­se, you ras­cal!
Or – by my soul and by my sole – you’ll have to face a batt­le!”
The­reu­pon one pul­led out his kni­fe,
So I got to fear for my life.
When he made a few threa­tening steps towards me,
I thought, it would be bet­ter to flee.

I screa­med: “Dar­by, make has­te!
The­re is no second to was­te!”
We slo­ped off short­ly befo­re the doors smas­hed shut.

While we were rus­hing in panic,
I heard her cry­ing: “My lor­gnet­te!”
It had slip­ped from her fin­gers and hit the floor,
But we had to run ahead.
Actual­ly, she wasn’t real­ly sad,
‘Cau­se both of us didn’t want to pay with our lives,
By being spik­ed up by two kni­ves.

When the sub­way rus­hed away,
We were pan­ting and gasping for breath.
I couldn’t find the right words to say,
I felt guil­ty for brin­ging her so clo­se to death.

But dear rea­der, don’t worry,
You mustn’t be sor­ry,
Not for me, nor for Dar­by –
We’ve been mar­ried sin­ce Febru­a­ry.

Our love is like a red, red rose,
Which came gent­ly and unex­pec­ted as on tip­toes,
We’ll be tog­e­ther till the day we die
And even then, we’ll soar tog­e­ther to the sky.

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  1. Claudia Boerger

    Wow! Ich bin eigent­lich sprach­los. Ein­fach toll!!
    Clau­dia

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