My neighbor Paul Evans just called. He wanted to come over today
to use my swimming pool. I agreed reluctantly only but I didn't
want to offend him because he is so sensitive. His demeanor and
behavior just don't appeal to me. Even though he makes great efforts
to socialize, he is really reserved. He always wants to please
everybody and always apologizes about every little ditty. One
just can not see a man in him even though he is already 31 years
old. I traced that back to his childhood where he was very spoiled
and sheltered. Such a wimp would come over to my place today,
waste my time and use my belongings. I will probably think of
something to get rid of him. I put on my swimming trunks in the
meantime and arranged the pool chairs. Lemonade and beer were
ready on a small patio table. I wondered why I was so eager to
prepare everything. All this work just for Evans.
The door bell rang. I went to the door and looked through the
spy. Paul was standing at the door, neatly dressed and a sports
bag in his hand. He probably was especially proud of it. I took
a breath. Soon a squeaking voice would greet me with a cheerful
"hello" and "how are you?". Then I would have
to take his red-green checkered coat and...
It rang a second time. I opened. Patiently he waited until the
door was all the way open and entered with a smile. I was brief.
"You can change back there", was all that I managed
to say. I went out to the yard and enjoyed another few quiet seconds
then Paul stepped out on the patio too. He wore dark sunglasses
which protected his blue eyes from the sun rays. They stood in
clear contrast to his whiteblond hair. His baby face sat on a
thin neck. I felt a tingle in my fingers. His robe hung loosely
on his bony, unmuscular body. He took it off thoughtfully, sat
down at the rim of the swimming pool and let his feet dangle in
the water. In a moment he would turn around and squeak at me with
childish eagerness and enthusiasm how wonderfully clear and pleasant
the water is. If I would come swim with him and that everything
is just so nice. One should actually feel sorry for him. He's
happy even if someone just spends a little time with him. But
he annoyed me more than I felt sorry for him.
I saw the weak, sagging shoulders and the skinny arms that hung
down clumsily. What pleasure would it be to feel his bony arm
between my fingers in order to slowly twist and crush it. What
joy would it be to poke out his eyes with my fingers. What delight
would it be grab his thin neck, lift him up in the air and pop
off his head. It didn't even seem that impossible and I was sure
I could do it. No one would notice. He wouldn't be missed.
I lay back into the patio chair, sipped on my beer and daydreamed.
I felt alone and I was bored. Something was bugging me so that
I couldn't lay still. I got up and walked over to the swimming
pool. Quickly Paul turned around and looked at my with this joyful
glare in his eyes. I slapped my hand on his shoulder and he twitched
"Hello, how are you?". He wondered about my pointless
question and tried to smile at me with his innocent grin. I got
a hold of his arm and twisted it around to his back just like
I used to do to my peers in school. Most of the time though I
had to do it in self-defense. With the other hand I grabbed his
throat. He was taken by total surprise and almost paralyzed. His
first reaction were drops of sweat then he was gasping for air.
He just now understood the situation. It was hard to continue
to strangle him because he started kicking, scratching and biting.
It was clear to me that he would not live much longer and it was
clear to him that he was going to die. He struggled accordingly.
A kick hit my shin and his fingernails touched an old scar on
my arm. This brought up old memories and I became furious. I threw
away his glasses which so far disguised his true face. It was
a face full of fear. I was the reason for his fear and I enjoyed
I thrust forward my middle and index fingers. They penetrated
his head and I pulled them back out. I felt a warm, slimy substance
on my fingers. Slowly his squashed eyes ran down my hand. Paul
Evans screamed and panicked. He looked horrible. Where his eyes
used to be there were streams of blood coming out accompanied
by sticky slime. They came together over his screaming mouth and
flowed down his throat in a single, thick stream. He swallowed
and coughed. I forced him into the water. It took on the color
of the strawberry lemonade on the table. He beat his arms around
wildly and bubbles surfaced. Finally he inhaled and then he didn't
He was heavy in my hand. I dragged him to the kitchen. Then I
got thirsty. Slowly I drank the strawberry lemonade on the little
table. I looked at the kitchen table. There was the body on white
towels, resting peacefully. Pleasant silence had returned to my
house. But the expensive chlorinated pool water was ruined. I
drained it. I cleaned up the yard. A peaceful sight, I thought
afterwards. But a little bit boring. Nothing exciting was happening
lately. I wanted entertainment and a grillparty seemed appropriate.
I took a large knife out of the kitchen drawer and began with
the preparation for the party. The door bell rang. With the knife
in my hand I opened the door without looking through the spy.
It was the mailman with an express delivery. He saw the bloody
knife; I saw how he stared at it. I was a little bit embarrassed.
I thought of the party and the specialty I was going to serve.
I would get lots of compliments for it. Full of anticipation I
stabbed him. He tilted over into my arms. I dragged him to the
kitchen too. Two hours later I called a few friends and invited
them over for the party. There would be enough food and drink.
They accepted the invite. I put up the grill near the garden house
and lit the charcoal. I took the food out of the freezer.
I put lean pieces of meat on the grill. They would have to be
well done. There was plenty of meat for all of my guests. Chips
and salads lined the table as well as mineral water, champagne
and a new red wine. No one would have to starve or die of thirst.
Around 7:30pm the guests started arriving. As they entered I welcomed
them cheerfully: "Hello! How are you?". There even were
more guests than expected. But there was enough for everybody.
"Have a seat, the food is almost done. It's a specialty of
mine! You are the first to try it".
We laughed and were cheerful. The mood was great. The latest jokes
and stories were being told. Unfortunately I didn't know one.
Everybody was slightly tipsy.
In the course of the evening I put two garbage bags outside because
they spread an unpleasant odor in the kitchen. While carrying
the bags their contents were pressed against the plastic. A hint
of bloody towels and bare bones shone through. I went back to
the kitchen and cleaned it a little more. I noticed the hair on
the floor and automatically looked over to the pale white bowl
made of bones. Tasty, juicy fruits were in it. I put away the
razor which I used to work on the head. Then I heard voices outside.
I went outside. Everybody seemed hungry and was waiting for the
food and I got ready to serve it.
The grill emitted an odor of paprika, pepper and a kind of meat
that cannot be bought in any butcher store.
Reprinted, copyright © July 1980, Wasty, The Grillparty
German title: Die Grillparty
Reading time: approx. 9 minutes
Last updated February 12, 2001 by Martin Mathis, e-mail lastbandit.com