Sample stories from Peter Hoflich by Peter Hofilch:

 #The End of the World Blues

 #Nobody Knows the Trouble We've Seen

 #Pornological Irritainments


The End of the World Blues

We slept in that morning.  Waking out of a divine slumber that (one percieved) held many dreams, we scrambled into our clothes and took care of the most basic of morning necessities, and hurried out the door saying our goodbyes to the people in the house as we went.  We rode our bikes down the lanes and avenues and ended up in the parking lot of the train station keeping a fast pace.

"You go and buy the tickets, I'll catch up to you" she said as she ducked into a store to buy cigarettes.

"Don't do this to me," he yelled back as he kept running without slowing his pace.

He bought the tickets, and she caught up to him - onigiri and other breakfast things in hand.

We found the right train and sat down and caught our breath.  We still had 3 minutes, but no time to phone ahead.  No biggie.

We sat in the train and ate and read without having to transfer, and soon were there.  John picked us up and soon we were at his house meeting his family and cousins.  There was a happy vibe.  Not too long after that, Mr. Ono (we called him Taxi) showed up with his 8-seater van, and we were off on our trip to the north coast.

There was a main road that we could take up and up.  It followed the river that passed through the town we had started from.  The road went up hill, up up to the highest point of that part of the spine of Japan.  The river had flowed downhill to the southern shore, then at the highest point the same river turned around and ran down the other side to the north shore of Honshu.  Stopping in a scenic village, we looked at flowers, parked cars, wandered on a path next to a stream, explored a temple.  It was a beautiful place.  The next place we stopped was very beautiful, a rest area next to another clear stream, as was yet another which was a temple complex built on a hill.  Innoculous, old, wooden, bells, structures, mountain scenery, trees on trees, steps, gates, altars, blossoms, fountains, atmosphere.

Finally at the coast again.  Somehow this trip was reminding me of the last time I rode along a road that bridged the midsection of an island, it was in Taiwan and the flashbacks were hurting my brain, stinging my eyes, making my ears ring.  Geographic deja-vu is senseless since you can no longer enjoy the diversity of where you are, yet once we were at the bottom we felt like we were in the Gobi desert.  It was a huge beach that bordered on the forest vegetation like the kind that I supposed covers the most of Japan.  We tried to look for a restaurant since our quest for lunch had been ongoing - it was 2:30 and still not resolved, so after a bit of discussion (and some straying into cheezy tourist boutiques) we found a family diner type place where we ate monster sandwiches on toasted bagettes.  Subs, practically.

There was a block of sand near the coast, maybe 2 or 3 kilometers long, one across.  It was dominated by a single monstrous sand dune about 100 meters high.  I was joking about how they piled up the styrofoam blocks and covered it with sand, somebody else was saying something about dormant Godzillas.  We joked a lot.  There were also a few blonde jokes, lawyer jokes, Texan jokes... funny people.

Our hotel was just around the corner, so we hopped into the van again and sped forth.  Passing more wonderful scenery, our hearts beat in unison and our minds reveled in the masterful beauty.  We took a tight road around hairpin turns, towards a scenic harbor and drove along stinky avenues that smelled of rotting fish, and past a white sand beach to a wonderful Japanese-style hotel with modest rooms that weren't too pricey.  The place was almost totally empty, it had male and female jacuzzis on the first floor, a gift shop, a restaurant, and 2 floors of rooms.  The staff were friendly, if not a little bored.  We had drinks and toasted each other before dinner, then went down to the immaculate dining lobby to eat our meal, inclusive in the price.  It was a million small dishes of all kinds of funny little things, lots of fish, crab, vegetable, rice, soup, etc.  After dinner we were so full that some of us passed out.  Others went for a walk, and John's mother fell and sprained her ankle.  This means that she was even less mobile than she usually was.  Sad funny gal.  All night we drank beer in John's room, rolling dice, smoking joints.  The weather turned funny, and it began to rain hard and pour down shit.  Somebody tore somebody elses clothes off, and all of a sudden dicks were appearing from nowhere.  The walls ran blood, and jackals and locusts came streaming in through the windows and worms came out of the holes in the floor.  Dream monsters went crazy and a million celebrity bad guys chopped each others heads off until we all went crazy.  After that, my wife and I took a communal bath in the lady's bath chamber (probably against the house rules) and had great sex upstairs.

The next morning we all inspected our injuries, and saw that everything was okay, except for John's mother who couldn't really walk on her foot very well (what did she to do injure herself so badly?) and we ate our unusual rice breakfast.  There were the usual jokes, friendly comeraderie, and comments on raw eggs, while people decided what they would or would not eat.  Most of us ate everything though, and there was the usual hustle of trying to get 8 people washed and ready to check out at roughly the same time, crowding into the van that already had the feel of home to it... and off to and through more scenic locations.  We saw a harbor, another harbor, some shops, and we ate lunch in a village that specialized in soba noodles: eaten in a broth with slimy potato paste, raw quail's egg, etc. etc. etc.  Getting out of there, almost everybody was getting the feeling that the trip was nearing it's natural conclusion.  We finally started driving through familiar roadways, and got to our part of our town in Japan - they drove off the highway, let us out at the side of the road, and continued on the up-ramp back to go on to their home.  Everybody was in a good mood, because we had had a great 2 days without any huge problems, and the weather had even remained fantastic for most of the time.  Just the 2 of us now, we walked down to the train station to get our bicycles where we had parked them early the previous morning, and went home.  It was there that we had found out the bad news.

While we had been gone, most of the people in the world had committed mass-suicide in the wake of a passing comet, leaving just politicians and lawyers.  The politician used the unrest to all declare war on each other, while the lawyers were kept busy sueing everybody left alive; there were mass kidnappings, the victims were tortured and killed in hideous fashions, the kidnappers were assassinated, and the assassins were executed by radical right and left-wing factions, who were in turn jailed for terrorist activities, and their comrades killed when the embassy they were holding was stormed by commandos.  The world was one big graveyard and the buzzards clawed each others' eyes out trying to get the most tender meat.  We were watching it all on TV until the TV stations blew up, the power stopped, and we were all deeply fucked!  Man, that was really the shits!

Pornological Irritainment

It was a tale as twisted as it was true.  Brian was the son of Sadie and John, although his real father was serving time in jail for beating up a guy with a pool cue.  The guy he beat up once held public office, so his friend in the police station made sure the assaulting father got special treatment while in the holding pen.  A reporter who knew one of the clerks in the station, who had overheard the events as they transpired reported it all in the local newspaper before he was killed by a robber while he (the reporter) was in bed with the mayor of Walla Walla, Washington's daughter.  The robber wasn't found for many years until he finally revealed a detail of the murder while being interviewed by a TV reporter in Seattle, Washington.  A lawyer working for the widow of that reporter heard the interview, and acted fast enough  to prevent this person from disappearing into the sea of faces at the market where he was being interviewed.  A fish monger's wife had seen which direction he had wantered off in and he was apprehended by the nephew of the lawyer's husband.  Now this nephew had been infatuated with the lawyer for years, despite his homosexuality, and the lawyer's husband was oblivious of the fact.  The homosexual partner, however, did know about his partner's hetero fascination, and tried to kill both the lawyer and her husband, but upon breaking in to do the job, fell in love himself with the lawyer's husband.  The husband, who had never had a homosexual experience called the police.  The dispatcher who answered the telephone, however, was at that moment suffering from severe cramps related to heroin withdrawal and lost control of her movements completely.  Instead of directing the police to the scene, she called her dealer who was at that moment taking a bath.  A neighbor, hearing the phone ringing, thought that her own phone was ringing and picked it up.  At that exact moment, somebody had just called her and there was an instant connection.  The caller was a salesman who was doing a callback on one of the items that he thought he could peddle off on this woman.  Now the salesman was dying of cancer and needed to make some sales quickly so that he could pay for the rest of his treatment, despite the fact that the cancer was terminal.  The doctor who was treating him had not told him yet that his cancer was terminal, at the urgings of his family.  Although this went against his severe convictions as a Christian, he conceded to the wishes of the dying salesman's family.  The salesman's mother, who was related to the mayor of Walla Walla, Washington by the way, made her living buying expired groceries and reselling them to housebound elderly people.  She had a regular customer who bought almost only canned corn who had once worked for the governor of Washington.  At the time that he worked for the governor, he had hidden away a few pictures of the governor in compromising positions with lingerie models whom he let ride in his jet and gave key public positions.  This was insurance against other secrets of the governor that the old man knew which might place his life in danger (working for the governor can sometimes be a hazardous occupation) however the governor had long since died.  Nevertheless, the pictures remained in a security deposit box in some bank somewhere where it was regularly fawned over by a bisexual bank worker who knew how to pick locks.  One day as he was looking at the pictures, he was discovered by his manager, who fired him on the spot.  The manager had a brother who published pornography, however, and as he knew that the governor was dead and the old man hadn't checked his box for 10 years (it was on the record), he decided to make some money off of his brother, whom he had always envied.  The fired employee naturally saw these pictures when they were published and began to blackmail his employer, saying that he wouldn't get off his back until the manager consented to have sex with the former employee and allow him to have sex with his wife (he was bisexual, remember?).  The manager consented, out of fear of exposure, but was wondering how he would get his wife to agree since they didn't get along any more.  Little did he know that for quite some time his wife had been developping an elaborate plan to kill him, without any blame or suspicion falling on herself.  Unfortunately for her, however, the key element of the plan forced her to rely on a friend meeting the husband that night (unsuspecting of the wife's plan).  The friend didn't come, resulting in the wife falling  for her own plan and dying in a mudslide down the ravine behind their beautiful house (which had just been renovated to the wife's specifications at great cost.  In a final irony, it was the wife who was the only one to not enjoy the renovations).  The husband, without an alibi, was arrested for the "murder" of his murderous wife.  Still suffering from bad luck due to his part in a recent fraud of a million dollars from a local charity, it turned out that the D.A. had been a close personal friend of the deceased wife as they had both belonged to the same swingers club before they had gotten married.  The D.A. ensured that the husband served a maximum sentence for the death of his wife.  The charity, seizing it's opportunity, recovered it's lost money and then some.  While in jail, the ex-manager met a bald black man who claimed that he knew the true murderer of the ex-manager's wife.  The man, now the only one who knew full well that he had not killed his own wife, believed what the bald black man told him.  The bald black man, however, had been a member of the very same swinger's club and had guessed at the nature of the true criminal somehow from newspaper reports in the newspaper.  The bald black man actually didn't know how to read, and had all his newspaper reports read to him by his rastafarian friend.  Now this friend had come to America illegally from Japan where he had been working for the yakuza.  He had been brought to America on a fishing vessel that had suddenly needed repairs in Hawaii.  This was a ruse for the Hawaiian police to board the vessel and seize the cargo under trumped up charges.  Now at that moment in Hawaii, there was an investigation into Columbian biker activity.  The raid on the ship relaxed pressure on the Columbians and they successfully went into hiding.  As a result of this, the captain of the Honolulu police was relieved of his duties.  The homophobic governor of Hawaii had long suspected that the chief was gay, and used this excuse to get rid of somebody he saw as an adversary and even a political foe.  Meanwhile, on a pineapple plantation neighboring the governor's mansion...

Nobody Knows the Trouble We've Seen

My name is Lee Harvey Oswald, I shot the president of the United States by myself, as it was proven by the Warren commission.  Jim Garrison wondered why I did it, and nobody knows.  I made history for my country and my moment of action will be remembered by millions as a period of time where everything that was happening to them will always be remembered with stark realism... even though nobody really knew what was going on.  My moment has been romanticized infinitely and I have been alternately been sent to heaven and cast into hell by my supporters or my detractors.  All I know is that one moment I was an ordinary citizen and the people who approached me approached me in silence and with care whispering their messages and always bringing gifts or good news of some sort or another.  All I wanted to do was see a movie.  Later I was always among people.  Nobody had shot a president for many years.  I was always among people and they were neither speaking softly nor bringing gifts or good news.  Later I was silenced and nobody ever testified. Luckily I still have a half-brother, his name is Lee Oswald Harvey.

My name is Lee Oswald Harvey.  I am a farmer.  One day I went to Dallas to sell some pigs, after I sold my pigs I decided not to go back right away.  I wanted to see a movie, but it wasn't starting for some time, so I walked around.  I found this building and I thought I heard a woman's voice coming from inside the door, that voice even sounded familiar like Marilyn's or Jackie's, I don't know. I walked through the doors and into the darkened building. There was nobody there, so I decided to look upstairs. There were many books in that building, I found out later that it was actually a book storage building called a suppository, although where I come from we would just call it a book storage building.  I went up and up the stairs, I was on one of the landings when I decided to try the door to see if it was open so I could look around.  It was, so I went into a room where there were many boxes and piles of books.  Soon there would be tour guides here.  I went over to a window and I could see that there was a lot of commotion outside.  I later found out that it was because the president was coming.  If I had known that, I would have been more excited.  Suddenly, something tapped me on the shoulder.  It was a green ghosty.  He stuck his tongue out and made strange noise at me, thereby enraging me.  He pulled a rifle out of his pocket and flew out through the open window.  I picked up the gun, and assuming it was loaded aimed with the intent of firing the weapon and deflating the green ghosty.  I looked through the scope and saw it floating and dodging cars that were coming down the road, floating and bobbing until it stopped long enough for me to squeeze off five or six rounds at it.  As soon as I hit it a few times, it disappeared - popped?  This might have been good and it might have been bad.  I threw down the rifle and went to see my movie.  Then all these people came in and interrupted my film.  They started paying me all this attention, and I couldn't even finish seeing the movie, nor did I get a refund.  I should get a refund.  All of these events are most unfair and unusual.  Lucky I still have a half brother Harvey Oswald Lee.

My name is Harvey Oswald Lee.  I am a journalist.  My intense hatred for the president of the United States has grown over years to include not just the man in office, but the office itself. Recently, somebody had been feeding me confidential reports that showed me of election fraud, infidelity, and murder of Hollywood acresses that had been going on in the new Camelot that Washington had become.  Like my half-brothers before me, and my other half brothers who would follow me, I was caught up in an irresistible series of events that I didn't understand, nor does anyone else.  Slowly, suggestions came that I could assassinate the president without putting myself into any danger, but I had to learn about and purchase a series of landmines, then find a way of planting them and arming them so that they would go off under the President's motorcade and blow everything sky high.  I had reservations about dealing a deadly blow to Jackie, since she was an innocent lost among the families, but anyone else was guilty.  I chose Dallas as the site, since a fatal blow to the presidency would give Texans the push they needed to become independant as they always wanted.  I used a friend of mine who worked for the city, to place the mines under a new layer of asphalt that was being paved just prior to the presidential visit.  The mines went in, and I installed my friend in the crowd to film the proceedings with the new super-8 camera he had bought with the money I paid him off with.  The day came, he was in the crowd, I went to an abandoned building so that I could use my remote control unit to detonate the bombs.  I went up to the roof and watched for the motorcade coming.  I could see it coming, and my fingers tightened on the remote.  As I was up there, I saw some movement from the corner of my eye, and spotted a sniper on the roof of another building.  He was holding a rifle.  I was unarmed.  He fired five shots at me, but he missed me with each shot.  Finally he threw the rifle at me and escaped to another rooftop and finally down the stairs. I ran over to the rifle and saw that it was empty.  I ran back to the side of the building and saw that something had happened to the motorcade.  Many people were gathered around the President's car.  I couldn't see the president.  The car had stopped between two of my mines.   I became even more nervous than I had been.  I didn't know what had happened. I ran down the stairs.  At the bottom of the stairs I looked around for the sniper, who would be on street level with me, but didn't see him.  I ran down the street expecting to be chased.  I was too tired, I could feel a pain around my heart.  I was in front of a movie theater - I bought a ticket, threw the remote into the garbage can inside the theater, and went in and cooled off.  I bought popcorn for myself, and a drink, and finished them off.  The movie wasn't very good, so I went for more food and drinks.  As I sat down, a group of police came in and arrested me.  At the head of the crew was the sniper, who with his accusing finger singled me out of the 10 or 12 people in the theater watching movies.  I was taken and questioned, and later I was killed.  Luckily I still have a half-brother, Harvey Lee Oswald, to do better than I did.

My name is Harvey Lee Oswald.  I am 35 years old, and I have lived in the state of Texas for 20 years.  Recently I have established a new religion which was discriminated against by the state. Legislation introduced by the governor John B. Connally destroyed my church.  I lost my church, my land, my home, most of my followers, my wife left me and took my little daughters with her.  The police of my state have practically refused to help me find her, by using crippling stalling tactics.  The same is true for the police forces of other states, and the F.B.I. won't help me either.  Through this my hatered of the governor grew.  He had in effect killed me, since I was helpless to change my lot in life in this existence through the actions of him and others.  One day one of his footsoldiers, one J.D. Tippett visited me and threatened me into keeping silent and resisting legislation. After he left, I knew that I had to take some sort of action.  I knew somebody who could put me in touch with a hitman.  I contracted a killer to murder the governor and his policeman flunky, and I picked November 22nd to do it, the day that the President would be visiting Texas where the whole world and especially the President himself could witness what one man could do with just a little money.  I met an assassin I had worked with before in an innoculous cafe in another state.  He demanded more money than he had before considering the size of the hit.  One week before the visit, he called me and reneged on our deal, although he consoled me by offering to sell me a good rifle cheap.  It would be up to me to do it myself if I wanted the job done.  I found myself in Dallas on that day with a rifle on the sixth floor of a book depository where my step-brother worked.  I fired 5 shots, I didn't quite see what I was shooting at.  I ran down the stairs, I stumbled over the corpse of... Mr. Tippett, looking so innocent and serene in death I could not hate him.  I ran to a movie theater to watch a movie (Astro-Zombies, I think), I was enjoying the movie when the doors open, in walks a posse of police, headed by my friend the so-called hitman, the informer, the police murderer.  They arrested me, leaving our destiny to our half-brother Oswald Harvey Lee.
 My name is  Oswald Lee Harvey.  I was hired by Robert Kennedy to kill his sister-in-law.  He was always jealous of Jackie.  He was wildly jealous of his brother for having married the object of his desires, first lady Jackie Oh, she had taken him away from the family, she was manipulating him, he finally hated her for resisting him at times, welcoming him at others.  He was insane, he knew he had been manipulated.  He wanted me to kill first Jackie in Dallas, then John in Cincinnati.  He knew that Jackie was more popular in the south than John, and John more popular in the north of the US.  He wanted to play off north and south, by blaiming a northern assassin for Jackie, and a southern assassin later for John.  He even wanted John Kennedy Jr. to be the assassin in Cincinnati.  His madness knew no bounds.  He gave me a gun with charmed bullets, he said that a potion had been poured over the bullets from a potion concocted out of Jackie's used pads.  Presidential celebrities are always exposed to this type of celebrity vultury, but this is the first time a first-brother has been involved in such foul deeds as far as our recorded history can tell us...  I chose sites in several cities that would be on the presidential tour, I knew it had to be Dallas because the devil inside me told me that this was to be the city where John and Jackie would cross dress and appear in public as each other, and my intended target would be posing as her husband.  I stood on the hilly glade with barely anyone around me, and when the sun was at its brightest the motorcade swung around, I put two bullets into the president, knowing that it was Jackie in disguise.  My target had not outwitted me.  As chaos erupted, I calmly blended into the surroundings and took a stroll up into the book suppository to get a better view.  There he was, another sniper crouched over the body of J. Tippett, his rifle smoking.  I offered the gentleman my assistance in helping him escape the eventual police intrusion.  His rifle-shot had certainly alerted everybody, hence the flurry of activity outside.  We got through the net and found a movie theater.  I paid for his ticket and told him I'd meet him inside.  While the fool went in, I placed an anonymous call with the police, informing on my poor delerious cousin.  My next mission was to confirm the kill, so I went to Dallas Country Hospital and in the guise of the lead surgeon, performed the autopsy on the piece of meat that I had shot from the hilly glade.  A quick snip of the surgeon's scissors revealed that this was no cross-dressing Jackie, but really John.  I knew that I had been tricked myself by the man I had set up for the murder, they were his shots that had finished off the president, not the governor as we had planned it all along.  It took me some time to formulate a plan, I eventually assumed the guise of Jack Ruby and shot that other phony assassin as he was leaving the county jail.  I was apprehended and have been imprisoned, but the poison that I have eaten provided by the now-defunct KGB I won't have much time to set things right.   Luckily I still have a half brother  Oswald Harvey Lee.

My name is Oswald Harvey Lee.  My life is like any other man's although I think myself special at times, since I can speak several languages and have travelled to several countries in my time.  Some would be envious, but most wouldn't.  Life is a strange series of events, and I have had my share of personal joys and griefs.  Who knows what it will all come to and by the time we die will we be better off, will we have done great things, or will we have failed miserably. From where I sit I think I understand what happened, but I am unable to tell anyone.  Nevertheless, on that day I was in Dallas to see the president.  I had a feeling that this might be one of my last chances, knowing what unsettled and semi-violent times the Sixties were becoming.  I arrived at the road that would be the route of the President's passage on into Dallas from the airport, but I found it so full of people that I couldn't get anywhere at all.  I looked around me for good spots to witness the motorcade and my eyes eventually scanned further and further afield, and then eventually up to the skies.  I saw some people were already in one of the buildings next to the road, and figuring that they had the best view of the proceedings, I decided to join them.  Up I went, to the second-highest floor of the building.  I opened the door quietly, not certain if I was supposed to be there or not.  I looked into the room that appeared to have been used to store books and boxes of books.  I heard some movement, and before long I could make out 5 men, each of them holding an old Italian bolt-action rifle.  I recognized them as my 5 half brothers, but with such looks on their faces - such evil resolution - I almost couldn't recognize them.  Since they hadn't noticed me yet, I walked out of the room, down the stairs, with increasing speed and desparation, caring less and less for the noise I was making on the rattling staircase... going down and down and down until I was back on the street.  I heard what sounded like firecrackers going off, there arose a sound of incredible confusion.  I walked into a movie house, I bought a ticket, I entered Hell...

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all writings copyright Peter Hoflich, 2000