Monday, 18 April 2016

FICTION: SCHNITZEL FOR HERR SCHMITT

An everyday tale of moral signalling by German Folk



It was another beautiful Spring day in Merkel’s Germany. The new rainbow flag fluttered proudly in the southerly breeze, high above the little town of Fritzmal.

“Perhaps that same breeze is right now carrying here to us yet more migrants from the Southern Lands,” thought Heinrich Schmitt in syntaxically challenged German, as he cycled leisurely home along the “Eco Lane” from his job at the automobile factory.

Back in 2017, Merkel had been installed as Chancellor-for-Life after democracy itself had been declared “racist.” This followed the moderate success in local elections of the soft civic nationalist party Alternative für Deutschland. Once granted supreme power, her first act had been to change the flag from the accursed black, red, and gold that she loathed to the new rainbow flag. Next week it was to be changed yet again, with the addition over the coloured bands of a dildo bisecting an Islamic crescent moon.

“It, to make them at home feel, important is,” Heinrich mused, overcoming typical German weakness in syntax with nominative and accusative declensions.

As he pedaled, dappled sunshine filtered through the trees, creating a sense of optimism. Heinrich pondered this next, small step towards creating the perfect post-racist, post-Islamo-homophobic Germany envisaged by Chancellor Merkel.

His journey took him past a bus shelter emblazoned with a poster celebrating the New Order. It showed the new flag design next to a grimacing image of the leader with the slogan, “Ein Dildo, Ein Islam, Ein Merkel.”

He turned a corner and next cycled through the town square. Here he saw a large number of Islamic and African men. Some of them were holding onto and groping young German women as they waited for the “Refugees Vilkommen” cubicle to become vacant. Every town and village now had one of these to protect the privacy and modesty of the migrants as they did what they had to do to German women. Some of the incomers waved to Heinrich as he cycled by. He politely smiled and waved back.

Two years ago the Great Chancellor had solved the terrible rape crisis caused by the arrival of the ten-to-fifteen million mainly young men who had flooded in from “The Southern Countries.” She had done this by simply outlawing women’s right to resist migrant sexual advances. Such resistance was decreed implicitly “racist.” Now all sex in Germany was either consensual or “non-resisted” – as it was officially termed – although the category of rape could still be applied to White men.

Heinrich’s wife and both his daughters had often been involved in acts of “non-resisted” sex. He smiled wanly as he thought about this convenient arrangement.

“It was this way better,” he mused, his syntax as Germanic as ever. “Migrants needs have, and very unfair rapists they should called be.”

The fact that his wife had been involved in “non-resisted” sex also reassured him that she still loved him. His colleague Herr Gruber had not been so lucky. After his wife had been involved in “non-resisted” sex with a gang of eight newly-arrived Somalis posing as Syrian child refugees, she had fallen in love with the gang’s one-eyed leader and had made it consensual. Her subsequent disappearance near one of the town’s many kebab shops remained to be solved.

Heinrich was now nearing his large, comfortable house, bought some years ago, when the German economy was roaring ahead. Abdul and Gamal welcomed him from the open window. These were his billeted “home guests.”

Like many of the families in Fritzmal, the Schmitts had been required by the Anti-Racist Enabling Act of 2018 to allow migrants to share their house. This only applied to large homes like the Schmitts', although next year the scheme was even being extended to one-room apartments to help meet the high number of migrants expected, following the opening of the new high-speed rail link to Baghdad.

Abdul was from Yemen and Gamal from Northern Pakistan. Every day when Heinrich went out to work, they stayed at home, watching porn and having “non-resisted” sex with Heinrich's two teenage daughters, aged 13 and 15. Technically this was paedophiliac sex, but as they were both Muslims, they were exempted under Sub-clause 93 of the Anti-Racist Enabling Act that decreed that no one coming from a society where child marriage was the norm could be accused of paedophiliac acts, and that to do so was itself an act of Racism.

Heidi the older daughter was already six months pregnant, so Heinrich would just have to get used to Abdul – or was it Gamal? – being a member of the family. The Schmitts also had a ten-year-old son called Friedrich, but neither Abdul nor Gamal seemed to be interested in him, although, thanks to anti-homophobic legislation, they had every right to be.

As Friedrich opened his garden gate and parked his bicycle, some Romanian gypsy kids playing with the head of a dead cat on the parkland next to Heinrich's garden looked covetously at it. By law it was considered Racist to lock bicycles because this was deemed to be “stereotype threat.” In effect, this meant that Heinrich had to buy a new bicycle at least every week or two, a sacrifice he chose to make as he felt it helped protect the environment.

As he entered his house, he was glad to see that Magda his wife was preparing dinner, even though one of Abdul’s friends, a fellow Yemeni they had not seen before, was engaged in an act of “non-resisted” sex with her.

As Heinrich sat down at the kitchen table and poured himself a glass of milk he took pride in the skill with which his wife continued to pound the schnitzel – halal of course – as the unidentified Yemeni continued to pound her ass beneath her uplifted skirt. Magda was also wearing a hijab over her hair in accordance with the Decree Respecting the Modesty of People From the Southern Lands issued recently by the State Council of Multicultural Harmony. As he watched his wife at work, it gave Heinrich especial pleasure to note how uninterested she was in the act going on behind her.

“Yes, I am guessing she really is loving me,” he smiled as he took another sip of milk.

After a little more pounding and a shrill cry of “Allah Akbar!” and some unintelligible phrases, the Yemeni finished, lowered his soiled robes, and left, picking his nose as he went. Left alone, Magda got on with covering the schnitzel in breadcrumbs.

“How was your day, dear?” she asked her husband.

“Oh, nothing special,” he replied. “We had to take on twenty new migrants as workers, but they were so uninterested in the work and utterly useless that we decided to just sign them in and allow them to go wherever they wanted. Luckily, most of them left the factory. I saw a couple in the town square on the way home. They were with Herr Gruber’s 12-year-old daughter by the Refugees Vilkommen cubicle.”

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Magda went to answer it. Heinrich sat at the kitchen table listening to the murmuring voices. After a while, he heard a joyful note enter his wife’s voice. After another minute, the visitor left and his wife came back through. She looked jubilant. Her cheeks were flushed.

“Oh, such wonderful news, Heinrich,"  she gushed. "Our son Friedrich has been attacked and badly injured by a Muslim gang. He was tortured and is now in hospital on life support with a serious skull fracture and the loss of much blood.”

Unable to contain his excitement, Heinrich jumped out of his chair and rushed over to his wife.

“Is it true?” he gasped. “Muslims?”

“Even better,” Magda continued. “A film crew was making a documentary about hidden racism against New Germans by Old Germans. They were filming in the area and caught the whole thing on film. Also, the police arrived and caught the gang of twelve who did. Yes – it is very newsworthy!”

“Muslims – you you sure, Magda?” Heinrich asked, wondering if such good news could really be true.

“Yes! Yes!” his wife squealed, tears of joy shooting into her eyes. “The policeman who to us brought this excellent news was about that point very clear.”

“Mein Gott!” exclaimed Heinrich. “Just think Magda, what means this?”

“Yes, Heinrich, we will be able to forgive the attackers, and in return ask for their forgiveness for the terrible collective White racism that must somehow have driven them to this terrible act.”

“Yes, Magda! Just so!” roared Heinrich. “This will a wonderful opportunity be to signal how very unracist we are!”

The thought of all the moral signalling to come pushed them into each other’s arms. They passionately embraced.

“Magda, my dear,” Heinrich said through tears of joy. “This calls for champagne, but don’t let Abdul or Gamal catch us. It would be terrible to be offensive to their culture at a time of great joy like this.”


 

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