Die Suche

21. Januar 2019

21. Januar 2019, 20.10 Uhr, bei Francois

"You're like a lion. No, a tiger. Lions look to chill. You're one of those tigers, that look freaking impressive and all orange and black, but they are very nice and fluffy and funny and want to help everyone." François war ein richtiger Schatz. Es war unvorstellbar, wie London ohne ihn und sein zugequalmtes Zimmer sein würde.

"Is that how you picture tigers? Because I think, they are pretty and deadly."

"Pretty deadly?"

"Exactly. Without the cuddly attributes."

"Hm... You are a..."

"You're a koala"unterbrach ich, " They live in Australia, they are constantly stoned because of all the bambus they are eating and if they aren't stoned, they're sleeping."

"And when do koalas party?"

"Huh, that's difficult. You're a party-koala. A huma... no, a koala-rights activist and party koala." Wir lachten.

"I think it's difficult to stereotypise animals, they are just as much individuals as we are", warf ich dann wieder sehr umsichtig ein.

"True. Hey, have you ever thought about what your dog thinks, when you come home stoned or drunk?"

"I don't have a dog."

"Yeah, I know that, Tara. But other people have dogs and they still get stoned and drunk. What do you think, their dogs think?"

"Oh, stupid hoooman, not agoin", sagte ich und er schüttelte den Kopf.

"Do you think, if a dog had the chance, he would get stoned?" Von dem Thema würde ich ihn nicht so schnell wegkriegen.

"Well, dogs are like very strict clerks, you know. You never know, what really happens behind their fassade. But take cats for example, they go wild over catnip. And there are birds, who eat fermented fruits on purpose, so I guess animals are just as stupid as we are."

"You could be a cat, dressed as a tiger", schlug er nahezu komplett zusammenhangslos vor.

"I... I don't know. Back to drugged animals, I really looked into that topic once..."

"Tara, the drug expert."

"I am, really! When I first moved to Berlin, that was my number one topic."

"First: You only once moved to Berlin and second: do you remember, when you took my pills for my throat and told me to stop taking Ecstasy when I'm high? How's that for drug expert?"

"In my defence: What kind of doctor paints his throat-pills?"

"Words can't be put together that way in the English language, stupid, that's German, right there, I spotted it. And I don't think, he painted them himself."

"Maybe those were Ecstasy pills and he is secretly a dealer and mixed them up."

"Maybe. But I took them later and if it was Ecstasy it was really boring."

"Aren't doctors who paint their drugs a bit like the Easter bunny And more in general: aren't doctors just dealers with a degree?"

"My dealer has a degree", verteidigte Francois Jack's BWL-Bachelor ", and how did we get here?" Wir beide kicherten los und klar, Gras ist doof und alles, aber mit Gras war halt auch alles schön.

"Ey, I heard you put Joe in his place today?" Neuer Themenwechsel. Ich gackerte los.

"I did. He was being a prick and I told him to fuck off and maybe kicked his leg." Ich wäre gerne Pazifistin, aber ganz verinnerlicht habe ich das noch nicht und am Ende übernimmt manchmal der Instinkt.

"I heard, you told him, how important it is to respect people of any gender and emphasize with them and that you didn't want to expose him, but in this century, people like he should reconsider their opinion and then you talked yourself in range and after like ten minutes you kicked his leg."

"Well, that's me. But he also tried to walk out on me, before I had finished talking. And it weren't ten minutes."

"You impress me sometimes. Over all our talking I tend to forget, what you represent in real life." Das stimmte. Wir wussten von den Idealen, Ideen, Grundlagen und Meinungen, wir wussten wer, wofür stand, und trotzdem vermieden wir die traurigen Themen der Welt hier sehr bemüht.

"Isn't that real life?", fragte ich.

"No", lautete das nachvollziehbare Fazit.