There is a kind of woman who, evidently out of spite, can take quite a lot of punishment and is even less merciful in handing it out. One cannot turn one's back on her, otherwise she hardens herself and knocks one down along with herself. And if that doesn't work, she summons up her arguments to help her. But this woman is and remains soft and yielding. She melts away. Or is she hard in order to offend someone? Her water is populated by lower organisms, and she tolerates even those, the little trichomonads, which she has also already got from the country policeman. Otherwise presents from him come only very rarely. Her doctor has prescribed something for them, but you have to treat your partner at the same time. He refuses.

He doesn't want any prescription, it's his job to prescribe the rules. He has no symptoms. Mr. Janisch, you have to take something like this seriously. Otherwise your whole gang of women would always catch the same thing from you and you would catch it again from them, if you didn't have it already, haha. The country policeman doesn't feel anything. He must be sort of primitive or something? Does he feel anything at all? Does he have to be scattered around with his motor cycle first? Does his lower jaw have to be torn off? The woman points out that it could also cause him harm later on, if he's already infected now and will inevitably pass it back to her, no sooner has she been cured by the drugs, but he hasn't. Rubbish, there's nothing that harms me. I'm an animal. Take the soft bits out of women, and then one has to take the rest away from them as well. This woman here doesn't just have her gate wide open, she's even put up a sign where there's really none needed, especially if she looks at one as if she had the eternal bliss, which God alone promises, and he had to let himself be nailed good and proper for it; so the woman has learned this bliss in this man when he had hardly come in off the street. Because she's fallen for someone even before the door slammed shut. The country policeman is sometimes so angry he could kill this woman. There she takes her proud claim on him out for walkies through the whole village. At the time when he had just met her, it had gone like this: She stood in front of him, as if fallen from the sky, in the road, embarrassed, sweating a little because she was in such a rush, even though the car had done all the work, by the driver's door of her car, ready, from now on, to make a happy face at the sight of him, the country policeman, not to take her eyes off him even under the greatest strain, and at the same time draw out his cock, its outlines ever more evident down there, before her inner eye, so that it should jump into her hand with the one sentence, I love you. Meanwhile all this time it was only with a considerable effort that the country policeman could stop himself hitting her in the face. The text with which he had wooed her stood written in raised letters on the country policeman's trousers (there was no price tag. Price list on request from the shop). Now he's supposed to give it to her again every day, preferably several times. With the organ that this dear red, somewhat sweaty face has, and which she likes so much that she doesn't want to let go of it anymore. For the man she has ripened into a whole co-operative house building society, this woman, who's got housing available for life. But ownership would be better. She's still deaf in that ear, but she's already turning her head in his direction. There would then follow conversion of the property, and for that everything else will be laid down right away without asking, do you want furniture, please, go ahead. Do you want me to be laid down as well, with pleasure. That's the best opportunity to lie back there's ever been. You'll only get this house if you take the carpet as a present, and all the fittings as well. The other way around you lose everything, and things will turn very quiet around you, because you'll have to spend the night in the open. Only when the other wild beasts come will you hear anything, but it will be too late. Quite without foundation the man fears something like that, every day, and the bank reminds him of it as well, Dies Irae. The simplicity of his behavior and its single-mindedness is probably indebted to his bank debts. Why does she have to run into one everywhere, this woman, when she gets hot. Why does one immediately have to show up for her, for this demanding lady, who then ends up taking what she can get, no matter what, however often she denies it and says she wants more. Much more can be expected from her. But once she's been turned on, it's impossible to turn her off in time, she's already boiling over with love and desire for this wonderful man, a nice gesture, don't you think?

Then I can just stay at home and let mommy cook me a goulash, what's all the fuss about. At home I can have whatever I want made, but you women, who want to be implacable and not forgive anything, one has to read your desires in your eyes, before one doesn't fulfil them and nails you once again, until one's buried under the planks of one's coffin. In a very similar situation, as already mentioned, Jesus was exhibited on the cross in Gallery Golgotha, do you know where that is? Yet I've known you women inside out for a long time, almost like God. Always the same thing. I'd rather masturbate, and I've been doing it since Wednesday. Since that day I've discovered a completely new method for it in my daily hours of sleeplessness. I confess, sometimes I can't shove my organ into you at any price, I can't do it. I'm afraid of this operation every time, I admit it, but sometimes the fear gets too big. Thanks to my job I have access to terrible pictures of crushed, or, alternatively burnt people, who originally were also highly thought of by someone, I assume, but have now involuntarily had to give up their shape. I think I'm not the only one who secretly likes such pictures, and every morning I can't help taking in their dear, delicate scent. Perhaps something will turn up. That's a good day for me then. I would like to tenderly stroke the tattered skin, the mashed bodies. I'm telling you, at the end my mother was so ill (said the country policeman to the woman, who was framed by her car door, a few weeks earlier, to a woman, who already after three minutes ardently wished to be married to him. One can take language courses, however she wouldn't put this man behind her for a long time yet, she knows. He's only a village policeman after all, he'll naturally feel flattered by her interest, and so on, everything designated, labeled, and put aside), my mama was so ill, you've never seen anything like it. A couple of weeks later the woman is already equating him with God and is herself sick with love, because he can't protect her from herself. She clings to herself, as a drowned person does with water. It's no use. He can make use of her as he wants. Everything you've ever read about organs is combined in these traffic accident victims, though unfortunately it's the wrong ones, that is, the organs would be right, but the places they have taken up are the wrong ones. Have they been flung onto the asphalt road surface just for me to give them the hard shoulder? I'm only asking because I like them so much. Bloody mush. People are muck. For that the man has become an idol to this woman, not man in general, but this one alone, whom she loves. It's a form of glorification, as in the church, of subjection in every area, which she certainly enjoys like a good old red wine, but which is becoming increasingly dangerous. Where do the glass splinters in the mouth and in the hand suddenly come from? Something like that only turns out well if a relationship has to stand up to the tides for at least twenty years, so that one can picture the human ocean, which God has in principle forbidden. His picture alone shall be lawful. He alone shall pass judgement. But one day, someone else will inevitably come along, and there are plenty of other women. If the relationship doesn't last, then the one who gives up totally is finished and ceases to exist. Or a new relationship comes along, which lasts until one gives up the ghost. Listen to your doctor or pharmacist or read the leaflet once again, but properly this time, before you order something unsuitable!