I Brought the Wurst
“Come here mein little morsel…” whispered Wurst
The hamster scurried from one corner of the cage to the next desperately trying to avoid Wurst’s sticky, fat grasp.
“You can’t escape. Wurst shall have you!”
The hamster squeaked and squealed. Wurst cornered the helpless hamster and grabbed him by the scruff on his back.
“Ihre Zeit ist nach oben, kleiner Freund!” exclaimed Wurst, as he slowly lifted the hamster over his gaping mouth.
“Uncle Wurst, what are you doing?” asked Chris as he walked into his room.
Wurst paused for a moment, not sure of what to say.
“Uncle Wurst was just playing with your cute little animal. This is how Wurst plays, see?”
Wurst flew the hamster around in the palm of his hand and made airplane noises, as if the hamster was an airplane.
“See? It’s fun! Good hamster!”
Chris held out his hand.
“Can I have Ripley back, please?”
“Of course, little nephew.”
Wurst placed the cowering hamster in Chris’s palm.
“Dad wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready.”
“Warum fickt das hat gemacht jemand erzählt mich früher?” spewed Wurst as he ran for the door. When he arrived at the threshold, he turned and looked at the hamster.
“Wurst shall finish playing with you later, mein little morsel,” he said as he backed out of the room.
As Chris gently put Ripley back in his cage he thought of how scared he had always been of his Uncle Wurst and of how he lived in constant fear of his uncle’s surprise visits. All of Chris’s life his uncle would come over to the States from Germany, unannounced, to visit Chris’s father, Dietrich-Wurst’s brother. He would always say that the point of his visits was to “check the progress of his brother’s craft” of which he meant his brother’s delicatessen. Wurst would stay for a day or two, then leave in the middle of the night. No parting words. Chris’s father had never been very close with Wurst when they were growing up and, in truth, had always been afraid of him as well. Wurst kept to himself. No one ever really knew where he was at any given time; no one really wanted to know.
Chris, his mother and his father sat at the table, watching Wurst gorge on the bounty of pork sausage, potatoes and rye bread, stopping only to guzzle down some his dark lager. Dietrich always made sure to have traditional German food ready by suppertime during every one of Wurst’s visits so as to avoid Wurst’s temper-it had been fully unleashed once when Dietrich tried to feed him tacos.
“How’s the food, Wurst?” asked Dietrich.
Chunks of demand erupted from Wurst’s flapping mouth.
“What?” asked Dietrich.
“Beer!” screamed Wurst.
“Oh! Right away.”
Dietrich stood up and swiftly walked to the kitchen to grab another two cans of dark lager.
“So, Wurst, when can we expect you to leave this time?” asked Chris’s mother, Stephanie.
Wurst didn’t answer.
“Well, the sooner the better. Not that we don’t enjoy your little visits,” said Stephanie.
“Don’t worry your delicious little head, Stephanie. I shall be gone sooner than you think. In fact, more than you realize shall be gone sooner than you think. More things dear to your heart shall soon disappear. Such is life,” said Wurst, as he looked at both Stephanie and Chris.
“ ‘More things dear to my heart?’ You’re not going to eat the dog, are you?” Stephanie asked with a subtle smile directed at Chris, but obvious enough for Wurst to see.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t eat your dog. I am simply saying that things change over the course of time and there is little anyone can do to stop it. Perfect example being your son! He is growing boy. There is little anyone can do to stop that growth, aside from cutting his development off completely. But who would do a terrible thing like that?”
Chris looked up from the table. He and Wurst locked eyes. Chris had never felt the level of fear he felt then, as he looked into his uncle’s eyes. He didn’t think anything could break the level of tension he was experiencing at that moment.
“Who wants beer?” asked Dietrich, with an overenthusiastic smile and presentation of the beer.
Wurst grabbed the cans.
“What took you so long, honey? While you were gone your brother was telling me and Chris about how the things we love will someday be gone. That is what you were trying to say, right, Wurst?”
“I was merely saying that time makes meals of us all!” said Wurst.
“Meals?” asked Chris.
“Wurst meant fools. Time makes fools of us all.”
There was a silence at the table for a moment.
“That’s a good joke, Wurst! You really know how to tickle my funny bone!” said Dietrich as he forced a frightened laugh.
After dinner Dietrich and Stephanie were clearing the table and scrubbing the area where Wurst sat.
“Chris, I need to see you real quick!” shouted Dietrich.
Chris walked into the dining room.
“What’s up?”
“I need you to run down to my shop and pick up five pounds of pork sausage for Uncle Wurst’s breakfast.”
“But, dad, I’ve got homework to do!”
“I’m sorry, son, but your mother said if she gets a moment alone with Wurst she’s going to take a shovel to his head and I’m afraid she actually means it, so I need to stay here and keep an eye on the shed to make sure she doesn’t break the locks to get the shovel!”
“Fine, I’ll go.”
“Thanks, bud, here are the keys. Don’t worry; Wurst should be gone by this time tomorrow, assuming your mother hasn’t killed him by then.”
Chris smiled and took the keys. He walked out to the garage, got his bike and pushed it out to the driveway. He looked back at the house and noticed Uncle Wurst watching him through the upstairs guest room window. He looked away and hopped on his bike. Before he took off, he looked back again and noticed Uncle Wurst was gone. He began to ride.
As Chris arrived at the delicatessen, he couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes had been watching him the whole time. He unlocked the door and walked in. It was too dark, so he flipped the lights on. The fluorescent rods flickered on. Chris proceeded to the kitchen freezer and removed a large coil of sausage links. He felt his phone vibrate. It was a text message from his father. It read: “Did you see your mother when you left the house?” Chris had no idea where his mother was. He began to respond: “Nope, didn’t see her. Sor-” but he was cut off by a heavy strike to the head.
Chris fell to the ground. He looked up and saw his Uncle Wurst standing over him, in front of the door leading out of the kitchen.
“Hallo Christoph,” said Wurst.
“Uncle Wurst, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, mein young morsel.”
“Morsel?”
“Correct, Christoph. I have been watching your progress all your life. You are at the prime age for harvest.”
“Harvest? What are you talking about?”
“It is simple Christoph. I’m hungry for something other than pork.”
Chris understood what his uncle had in mind, however he simply couldn’t believe it.
“Uncle Wurst, you can’t eat me, I’m a human being! I’m your nephew!”
“We are all just meat in skin, Christoph.”
Chris didn’t want to hear anymore. He scrambled to his feet and began to run. Wurst took off after him. The ground quaked with each gallop of Wurst’s enormous legs. Chris swung the coil of sausage over his head as if it were a lasso and threw them at Wurst. Wurst caught one of the sausages in his mouth and inhaled it as if it were the oxygen he had such difficulty maintaining.
Chris tripped over his own legs and slid into the narrow pantry. Wurst arrived at the pantry and threw himself as hard as he could at the threshold. He couldn’t fit through entirely and became lodged.
“Ach!” screamed Wurst.
He began frantically reaching for Chris, but to no avail.
“Come here, Christoph! Come here right now!”
Chris slowly shook his head left to right.
“Now, Christoph!”
“No…”
Wurst continued to grasp frantically. Then he suddenly stopped. Chris noticed a small trail of blood trickle down his head. A hand then wrapped around Wurst’s head and swiftly dislodged him from the pantry doorway.
Stephanie stood behind the unconscious body of Wurst; shovel in hand.
“Mom?!” exclaimed Chris.
“Hey, honey. You ok?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?” Chris asked.
“I heard that fat bastard leave the house after you did and I was worried, so I followed him. Looks like it was a good thing, too.”
Chris ran out and hugged his mom as hard as he could.
“Mom, thank you so much.”
“Don’t even mention it, sweetheart. Now take that sausage and go home. Don’t mention to your father what happened.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, first I’m going to call your father and tell him I got called into work and I wont be back until morning. Then I’m going to make sure your uncle never bothers us again.”
“How?”
Stephanie smiled.
“Don’t worry about it, darling.”
Stephanie walked Chris to the door and picked up his bike for him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. I love you!”
“Love you, too.”
Chris rode off with the sausage. He arrived home to his father sitting in the living room.
“Chris! Hey, your mother got called into work; she’ll be back tomorrow. She says good night.”
“Oh, ok. Well, here’s the sausage for, uh, Uncle Wurst.”
“Well, I just went to see if he wanted his after-dinner cake, but he wasn’t there. He must have left. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, he’s quite the… guy.”
“Sorry about sending you out for no reason. Why don’t you go finish that homework?”
“Yeah, ok. Night, dad.”
“Night, bud.”
Chris went to his room, however he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. He lay in bed all night thinking about what had just happened. He thought about what his mother was doing to his cannibal uncle. What did she mean when she said he wouldn’t bother them anymore? Before he knew it his alarm went off; it was seven in the morning. He heard the front door open. He hopped out of bed as fast as he could and ran downstairs. He saw his mother standing in the kitchen with a large kitchen dish covered in foil.
“Mom!” said Chris.
“Hey, sweetie. Get any sleep?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Yeah, I figured,” she said with a laugh.
Dietrich came down the stairs in his bathrobe.
“Hey, dear. How was work?” he asked with a yawn.
“Messy.”
“Oh, was there an accident?” asked Dietrich.
“No, I don’t think it was an accident,” she said.
“Oh, well, I’m sorry. You want some coffee? Wait, what’s in that dish?”
“Oh, a patient of mine brought me some wurst.”
This is a story I just finished for a class. Everyone in that class writes the most tiresome wanna be poetic stuff. This was to shake things up a bit. Tell me what you think!
also sorry about the format. it didnt transfer right. hopfully it's not to distracting
The hamster scurried from one corner of the cage to the next desperately trying to avoid Wurst’s sticky, fat grasp.
“You can’t escape. Wurst shall have you!”
The hamster squeaked and squealed. Wurst cornered the helpless hamster and grabbed him by the scruff on his back.
“Ihre Zeit ist nach oben, kleiner Freund!” exclaimed Wurst, as he slowly lifted the hamster over his gaping mouth.
“Uncle Wurst, what are you doing?” asked Chris as he walked into his room.
Wurst paused for a moment, not sure of what to say.
“Uncle Wurst was just playing with your cute little animal. This is how Wurst plays, see?”
Wurst flew the hamster around in the palm of his hand and made airplane noises, as if the hamster was an airplane.
“See? It’s fun! Good hamster!”
Chris held out his hand.
“Can I have Ripley back, please?”
“Of course, little nephew.”
Wurst placed the cowering hamster in Chris’s palm.
“Dad wanted me to tell you that dinner is ready.”
“Warum fickt das hat gemacht jemand erzählt mich früher?” spewed Wurst as he ran for the door. When he arrived at the threshold, he turned and looked at the hamster.
“Wurst shall finish playing with you later, mein little morsel,” he said as he backed out of the room.
As Chris gently put Ripley back in his cage he thought of how scared he had always been of his Uncle Wurst and of how he lived in constant fear of his uncle’s surprise visits. All of Chris’s life his uncle would come over to the States from Germany, unannounced, to visit Chris’s father, Dietrich-Wurst’s brother. He would always say that the point of his visits was to “check the progress of his brother’s craft” of which he meant his brother’s delicatessen. Wurst would stay for a day or two, then leave in the middle of the night. No parting words. Chris’s father had never been very close with Wurst when they were growing up and, in truth, had always been afraid of him as well. Wurst kept to himself. No one ever really knew where he was at any given time; no one really wanted to know.
Chris, his mother and his father sat at the table, watching Wurst gorge on the bounty of pork sausage, potatoes and rye bread, stopping only to guzzle down some his dark lager. Dietrich always made sure to have traditional German food ready by suppertime during every one of Wurst’s visits so as to avoid Wurst’s temper-it had been fully unleashed once when Dietrich tried to feed him tacos.
“How’s the food, Wurst?” asked Dietrich.
Chunks of demand erupted from Wurst’s flapping mouth.
“What?” asked Dietrich.
“Beer!” screamed Wurst.
“Oh! Right away.”
Dietrich stood up and swiftly walked to the kitchen to grab another two cans of dark lager.
“So, Wurst, when can we expect you to leave this time?” asked Chris’s mother, Stephanie.
Wurst didn’t answer.
“Well, the sooner the better. Not that we don’t enjoy your little visits,” said Stephanie.
“Don’t worry your delicious little head, Stephanie. I shall be gone sooner than you think. In fact, more than you realize shall be gone sooner than you think. More things dear to your heart shall soon disappear. Such is life,” said Wurst, as he looked at both Stephanie and Chris.
“ ‘More things dear to my heart?’ You’re not going to eat the dog, are you?” Stephanie asked with a subtle smile directed at Chris, but obvious enough for Wurst to see.
“Of course not. I wouldn’t eat your dog. I am simply saying that things change over the course of time and there is little anyone can do to stop it. Perfect example being your son! He is growing boy. There is little anyone can do to stop that growth, aside from cutting his development off completely. But who would do a terrible thing like that?”
Chris looked up from the table. He and Wurst locked eyes. Chris had never felt the level of fear he felt then, as he looked into his uncle’s eyes. He didn’t think anything could break the level of tension he was experiencing at that moment.
“Who wants beer?” asked Dietrich, with an overenthusiastic smile and presentation of the beer.
Wurst grabbed the cans.
“What took you so long, honey? While you were gone your brother was telling me and Chris about how the things we love will someday be gone. That is what you were trying to say, right, Wurst?”
“I was merely saying that time makes meals of us all!” said Wurst.
“Meals?” asked Chris.
“Wurst meant fools. Time makes fools of us all.”
There was a silence at the table for a moment.
“That’s a good joke, Wurst! You really know how to tickle my funny bone!” said Dietrich as he forced a frightened laugh.
After dinner Dietrich and Stephanie were clearing the table and scrubbing the area where Wurst sat.
“Chris, I need to see you real quick!” shouted Dietrich.
Chris walked into the dining room.
“What’s up?”
“I need you to run down to my shop and pick up five pounds of pork sausage for Uncle Wurst’s breakfast.”
“But, dad, I’ve got homework to do!”
“I’m sorry, son, but your mother said if she gets a moment alone with Wurst she’s going to take a shovel to his head and I’m afraid she actually means it, so I need to stay here and keep an eye on the shed to make sure she doesn’t break the locks to get the shovel!”
“Fine, I’ll go.”
“Thanks, bud, here are the keys. Don’t worry; Wurst should be gone by this time tomorrow, assuming your mother hasn’t killed him by then.”
Chris smiled and took the keys. He walked out to the garage, got his bike and pushed it out to the driveway. He looked back at the house and noticed Uncle Wurst watching him through the upstairs guest room window. He looked away and hopped on his bike. Before he took off, he looked back again and noticed Uncle Wurst was gone. He began to ride.
As Chris arrived at the delicatessen, he couldn’t shake the feeling that eyes had been watching him the whole time. He unlocked the door and walked in. It was too dark, so he flipped the lights on. The fluorescent rods flickered on. Chris proceeded to the kitchen freezer and removed a large coil of sausage links. He felt his phone vibrate. It was a text message from his father. It read: “Did you see your mother when you left the house?” Chris had no idea where his mother was. He began to respond: “Nope, didn’t see her. Sor-” but he was cut off by a heavy strike to the head.
Chris fell to the ground. He looked up and saw his Uncle Wurst standing over him, in front of the door leading out of the kitchen.
“Hallo Christoph,” said Wurst.
“Uncle Wurst, what are you doing?”
“Nothing, mein young morsel.”
“Morsel?”
“Correct, Christoph. I have been watching your progress all your life. You are at the prime age for harvest.”
“Harvest? What are you talking about?”
“It is simple Christoph. I’m hungry for something other than pork.”
Chris understood what his uncle had in mind, however he simply couldn’t believe it.
“Uncle Wurst, you can’t eat me, I’m a human being! I’m your nephew!”
“We are all just meat in skin, Christoph.”
Chris didn’t want to hear anymore. He scrambled to his feet and began to run. Wurst took off after him. The ground quaked with each gallop of Wurst’s enormous legs. Chris swung the coil of sausage over his head as if it were a lasso and threw them at Wurst. Wurst caught one of the sausages in his mouth and inhaled it as if it were the oxygen he had such difficulty maintaining.
Chris tripped over his own legs and slid into the narrow pantry. Wurst arrived at the pantry and threw himself as hard as he could at the threshold. He couldn’t fit through entirely and became lodged.
“Ach!” screamed Wurst.
He began frantically reaching for Chris, but to no avail.
“Come here, Christoph! Come here right now!”
Chris slowly shook his head left to right.
“Now, Christoph!”
“No…”
Wurst continued to grasp frantically. Then he suddenly stopped. Chris noticed a small trail of blood trickle down his head. A hand then wrapped around Wurst’s head and swiftly dislodged him from the pantry doorway.
Stephanie stood behind the unconscious body of Wurst; shovel in hand.
“Mom?!” exclaimed Chris.
“Hey, honey. You ok?” she asked.
“What are you doing here?” Chris asked.
“I heard that fat bastard leave the house after you did and I was worried, so I followed him. Looks like it was a good thing, too.”
Chris ran out and hugged his mom as hard as he could.
“Mom, thank you so much.”
“Don’t even mention it, sweetheart. Now take that sausage and go home. Don’t mention to your father what happened.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, first I’m going to call your father and tell him I got called into work and I wont be back until morning. Then I’m going to make sure your uncle never bothers us again.”
“How?”
Stephanie smiled.
“Don’t worry about it, darling.”
Stephanie walked Chris to the door and picked up his bike for him.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, honey. I love you!”
“Love you, too.”
Chris rode off with the sausage. He arrived home to his father sitting in the living room.
“Chris! Hey, your mother got called into work; she’ll be back tomorrow. She says good night.”
“Oh, ok. Well, here’s the sausage for, uh, Uncle Wurst.”
“Well, I just went to see if he wanted his after-dinner cake, but he wasn’t there. He must have left. You know how he is.”
“Yeah, he’s quite the… guy.”
“Sorry about sending you out for no reason. Why don’t you go finish that homework?”
“Yeah, ok. Night, dad.”
“Night, bud.”
Chris went to his room, however he knew he wouldn’t get any sleep that night. He lay in bed all night thinking about what had just happened. He thought about what his mother was doing to his cannibal uncle. What did she mean when she said he wouldn’t bother them anymore? Before he knew it his alarm went off; it was seven in the morning. He heard the front door open. He hopped out of bed as fast as he could and ran downstairs. He saw his mother standing in the kitchen with a large kitchen dish covered in foil.
“Mom!” said Chris.
“Hey, sweetie. Get any sleep?”
“Not particularly, no.”
“Yeah, I figured,” she said with a laugh.
Dietrich came down the stairs in his bathrobe.
“Hey, dear. How was work?” he asked with a yawn.
“Messy.”
“Oh, was there an accident?” asked Dietrich.
“No, I don’t think it was an accident,” she said.
“Oh, well, I’m sorry. You want some coffee? Wait, what’s in that dish?”
“Oh, a patient of mine brought me some wurst.”
This is a story I just finished for a class. Everyone in that class writes the most tiresome wanna be poetic stuff. This was to shake things up a bit. Tell me what you think!
also sorry about the format. it didnt transfer right. hopfully it's not to distracting