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turtlethon · 3 years

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"Return of the Shredder"

Season 2, Episode 1

First US Airdate: November 26, 1988 First UK Airdate (Hero Turtles version): January 3, 1990

Shredder re-emerges from Dimension X with a plan to frame the Turtles.

Turtlethon continues with a look at "Return of the Shredder", the first episode of season 2 of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (1987). A memorable and historic episode in many ways, so apologies in advance if I go on a bit! This one is a story by season one's writers David Wise and Patti Howeth, but with a writing credit for Christy Marx.

"Return of the Shredder" is the first episode to air on the BBC in the UK as Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles at the beginning of 1990, opposite Mr Majeika on ITV; The TV scheduling equivalent of being the first jobber to lose to Goldberg.

For most UK kids, this would have been the first piece of Turtles media they'd ever seen. And without any knowledge of S1, it raises a lot of questions. As mentioned in the "Turtle Tracks" recap, things like the comic adaptation and trading cards would do a lot of heavy lifting to fill in the gaps. The other notable thing is there's STILL a lot of ninja content in this episode, and some weapons use. It was largely edited out of the Hero Turtles version but the BBC took it upon themselves to make at least one additional edit.

2021 UPDATE: When I first revisited this episode in January 2020, I only had access to a German dub of the Hero Turtles version for comparison purposes. Since then I’ve been able to acquire multiple English language VHS releases of the TMHT edit of Return of the Shredder, so I’ll discuss the changes made in a separate post.

This episode opens with Michelangelo and Leonardo witnessing a robbery while shopping for groceries. They make short work of the crooks and after making their escape, April interviews the cashier about the incident for the Happy Hour News.

vimeo

The German dubbers took some interesting liberties when they adapted the above interaction between April and Burne Thompson.

USA version

APRIL: They're heroes, I tell you!

BURNE: Bushwa!

German dub

APRIL: They're heroes, I tell you!

BURNE: BULLSHIT!

This episode includes the first appearance of Burne's girlfriend Tiffany, whose shtick is that she finds turtles disgusting. She considers anyone that defends them a "lousy turtle lover".

(Tiffany definitely went on to become one of those MAGA blondes that has a selfie of themselves in the car wearing giant shades as their userpic)

We then get a scene where the Turtles explain at length their connections to Splinter and Shredder, no doubt much to the relief of anyone watching the Hero Turtles run.

One of the first major turtle mix-ups here, where Raph is depicted talking at length but has Leo's voice. There's a way better one later on in this ep though.

Splinter has a vision that Shredder is about to return. I'd forgotten about this aspect of his character, where he has some vague mystical sixth sense about things and isn't just a wise old man that got turned into a rat. I kinda hate it to be honest.

Krang teleports Shredder to Central Park(?) where he's approached by two knife-wielding muggers, all of which remains intact in Hero Turtles. Why are nunchucks verboten and knives aren't? Your guess is as good as mine...

Shredder sees off the muggers by chopping a branch off a tree that kinda falls in front of them. They're so impressed that they give all THEIR money to HIM and run away.

This isn't even the only time in this episode that he gets people on-board by just wrecking up the place.

At the Slash-For-Cash Dojo, Shredder encounters Smash, voiced by Peter Cullen in sadly his only TMNT '87 appearance.

Ironically, Smash looks nothing like Smash from famous WWF tag team Demolition (Barry Darsow) but kinda does resemble his partner Ax (Bill Eadie).

Persuasion, the Shredder Way:

1) Walk in to someone's place of business and announce you're in charge now

2) When they object, destroy their property

3) Everyone will be so impressed they'll immediately fall in line

London, Tokyo, Paris, Washington. I'm impressed that Channel 6 is apparently so well-connected, considering we typically only ever see about four people working there

Over an unspecified amount of time Shredder turns Smash's useless students into super ninjas. They're all presented with spiffy turtle shell tunics.

WHO MADE THESE? Was Shredder up all night on the sewing machine meticulously crafting turtle outfits for the entire class?

The fake turtles go on a crime spree that mostly involves Smash karate-chopping cash registers and kicking bank vaults while the others watch, making the time Shredder spent training his pupils seem completely worthless. This soon makes the news, and the Turtles end up being blamed.

Shredder breaks into the asylum where Baxter is being held and they escape. They don't take the guy who thinks he's Napoleon with them, and frankly the rest of the series will be a little worse off as a result.

April's Turtlecom has a tiny satellite sticking out of the side of it.

Not a satellite dish, an actual satellite, the kind that orbits the Earth from space.

Donatello what are you doing

vimeo

I love this scene where the animation just flakes out.

Raphael = Leonardo

Leonardo = Leonardo

"Something strange has happened, now there are TWO Optimus Primes!"

5.1 billion people on Earth in 1988, and only two of them could teach a person this very nuanced method of kicking a door in.

Bizarrely, these lines of dialogue from Burne and April were sampled in Turtle Rhapsody Remix (from the 1990 TMNT movie soundtrack).

A recurring theme of the series later on will be that Shredder doesn’t know where the Turtle Lair is located, but Baxter just found it six episodes in. I guess they had to relocate after this.

Our heroes soundly defeat Smash’s minions and grill him for info. He tells them where Shredder is, and they’re on their way.

The whole thing ends with the Turtles tracking down a kidnapped Splinter, some convoluted hi-jinks involving Baxter's rat-catcher and a battering ram, and the bad guys getting away. Pretty standard stuff.

April exposes the Crooked Turtle Gang as imposters. An infuriated Tiffany demands Burnsie debate her in the free marketplace of ideas.

The show ends with the turtles arguing about who April was winking at in her news report, only for her to break reality by responding from within the TV that it was intended for Splinter.

“Return of the Shredder” is a notable outing in a number of ways, particularly given that it ended up being the de facto first episode of Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles. Putting that aside, it also expands on some ideas developed in the first season about the media shaping the public perception of the Turtles, something that we’ll see more of in the future (in “Turtles on Trial” next season, for example). The idea of the team being framed for crimes committed by someone else will pop up again even sooner, in “Invasion of the Punk Frogs”.

Sadly, neither Peter Cullen nor Smash will appear in TMNT after this. Other Transformers alumni will appear in guest roles throughout the series though. One character introduced here who will return is Tiffany, who we’ll see again next season.

As I alluded to previously, this episode was heavily edited to bring it in line with the BBC’s broadcast standards, in fact it might actually be the most censored in the entire run. Some of the changes made are downright ridiculous, and I’ll cover them in a future post.

#TMNT #TMNT 1987 #Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #Turtlethon #ninja turtles #Return of the Shredder #1988

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westfrosts · 5 years

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Accidents and Proposals - Colt x MC

A/N: hey it’s wzkdj here from instagram, a.k.a Khadijah! ! y’all may recognise me from the previous fic Ifraah and I posted on this account ( Apple Pies )

side note: we agreed on Y/N / MC being too cringey and wattpad-y so we settled on a name for our MC: Zafira

this fic is in the same universe as the previous one, Apple Pies :)

this came from the idea: MC vomiting on Colt LMAO, excuse how long it is and how extra the entire first half is hehe the word count is around 6100

also, we have a few cameos from our choices group, Justine, Ifraah, Mics and I, Khadijah all make our cameos with our faves bc i was feeling it and thought it would be funny lmaooo so be on the lookout for those :)

Tag List: for all the Colt lovers hehe, if y’all don’t want to be tagged just let me know and if you do then just throw us a comment or sumn! @tabithacarlisle @lifeof314universe @flowerpowell @lady-dianelewis @confessionsofabrokegirl @drakewalkerdrunk @zeniamiii @i-am-clementine @gayplaychoices @marcela13mars @ladymarquess @claudevonstruke @stillafictosexual @wolfmckenzie @emomoustache @inkandfables @thegardendiety @akrenich @ckanekos @coltkaneko @pixelburied

“Damn, I thought we were going to a five-star restaurant.” Riya almost whined, pouting as she sat down beside Darius opposite Zafira.

“Sorry, Babe, but not everyone has Jonas Brothers’ type of money.” Darius said with a shrug. Zafira burst out laughing and lifted her hand for a high five. Darius grinned and slapped her hand right as a waitress came up to their table.

“Hey guys, my name’s Justine!” she said enthusiastically, before she gestured to her name tag which had ‘Justine’ written on it. Zafira didn’t miss the bright jingling silver bracelet that had ‘BUCKET’ written in caps before a big red heart. “I’ll be your waitress for today. Here are your menus, don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything,” she said with a smile, “Oh, and I should let you know, we currently have the meal deal on the Grilled Chicken Sandwich if you happen to be interested in a free cookie by any chance…” she winked.

The three of them gasped in unison as the waitress walked off to tend to another table and looked at each other. “Free cookie?!” Zafira said in amazement, as she watched Darius and Riya mirror her expression.

“We have got to get that meal deal.” Darius practically demanded, with a slap of his fist on the table, none of them paying any attention to the three menus that jumped up and almost fell off.

“I can’t believe we’re giving in so easily to capitalism.” Zafira said sadly, sighing in dismay. “Wendy’s 1, Karl Marx 0. I’m sorry, Marx, we have failed you.” Riya and Darius burst out laughing at her remark and eventually Zafira was guffawing along with them.

…

Soon enough, Justine was bringing out a tray with the orders on and Zafira couldn’t help but rub her hands together in excitement. “Chicken Sandwich, get in my belly! Y’all have no idea how long it’s been since I last ate a burger, my stomach can no longer recall the sweet taste of that seeded bun.” Zafira shook her head sadly as her eyes widened upon the tray placed down on their table.

“Here are 3 Grilled Chicken Sandwiches with those free cookies I promised. Enjoy your meal, guys!” Justine said with a smile, laughing at the faces the three of them made.

“Thank you!” They chorused, almost salivating at the sight in front of them. Justine grinned as she walked away and Zafira and Darius couldn’t dig into their burgers any faster.

“Guys! Wait, I’ve gotta get a pic to put on my IG or Snap! Guys, c’mon, don’t finish the burgers already!” Riya exclaimed in a panic, shooing away their hands and pulling out her phone as fast as she could. Darius and Zafira exchanged glances and rolled their eyes before moving away from the table and crossing their arms in unison.

Riya finally took the picture and settled back into her seat with a smile. “You can dig in now, guys, go on. Oh my gosh, it looks so good, look at those crinkle cut chips! Mmmm…” She murmured as she rubbed her hands together.

“Finally!” Zafira groaned, before she quickly scooped up the burger and took a bite. Her eyes widened and rivalled Darius’ own expression of wonder.

“Oh… My…” Darius whispered, and even Riya looked shocked, something they didn’t often see at a fast food restaurant.

“This is…” Zafira mumbled, staring at her burger in amazement.

“...Art.” Riya finished off. The three of them nodded in agreement before diving back into their meals.

“Truly, no one does Grilled Sandwich like Wendy’s do.” Zafira said around a mouthful, “These chips! They’re so soft and potato-ey! I could eat these forever.” She moaned, washing everything down with a swig of her drink. She let out a loud, garbled burp and Darius and Riya looked up at her in surprise. They shared a funny look before they were once again roaring out in laughter. All of the customers around them looked at them weirdly and a girl sat at the far end of the outdoor eating area rolled her eyes. “High schoolers… just wait until you get into college, y’all won’t have much to laugh about then.” She shook her head, adjusting her headscarf and glasses before going back to using her laptop, labelled with an ‘Ifraah hearts Hayden Young’ sticker.

By the time they were finished with their meals, Zafira sat with her hands on her belly and a weird feeling inside her stomach. “Guys, is it me or are you feeling a bit nauseous too? This burger has done a number on me,” she groaned, “What did they even put in there?”

Darius and Riya sat back looking very content. “It must be you, that burger was…” Darius trailed off, kissing his fingers and throwing them in the air, “Simply beautiful!”

“Yeah, who cares about five-star restaurants anymore?!” Riya stated passionately.

…

It was only half an hour later when the trio had finished revelling in the aftermath of the food and that sumptuous free cookie, that Zafira felt the first gurgle in her stomach. “Uh oh…” She trailed off, eyes widening as her hands reached for her stomach in slow motion.

“What? What is it?” Riya asked, frowning at Zafira’s now sweaty face. “Are you OK? You look really hot…”

Zafira shook her head, hands flying to her mouth as she got up and raced towards the entrance of the diner.

“Zafira!” Darius called out after her. He exchanged a bewildered look with Riya. “What the heck?!”

Inside the diner, the Mercy Park Crew felt a sudden breeze as a blurry figure that looked an awful lot like Zafira rushed past them. “The hell?” Mona said, perplexed. Toby and Ximena watched the figure dart into the ladies’ bathroom and glanced at each other before shrugging and going back to what they were doing. Mona realised that the person looked awfully familiar and even Logan and Colt looked after the figure in surprise.

Zafira, however, paid no attention to her surroundings, and threw the closest stall door open before doubling over and emptying the contents of her stomach in a toilet. Damn, she thought, maybe Wendy’s really isn’t the one. Her stomach clenched once more before she was gripping each side of stall, desperate to not make any contact with the toilet bowl itself lest she contracted something even worse. The acid burned in her throat as sweat and tears rolled off her face. “Bloody… hell…” she coughed out, hastily pulling on the toilet roll to wipe her mouth, “I swear, if I vomit again, I’m gonna scre—” she dry heaved, slapping a hand over her mouth and squeezing her eyes shut. Zafira turned and leaned against the stall wall, breathing heavily. “I definitely have to sue these witches, what the hell did I eat?!” She grumbled.

As she walked over to the sinks, she caught sight of her reflection and groaned. Her face was red with dried tear tracks and her hair looked like a complete mess, “Great!” she mumbled, before washing out her mouth and cupping water in her hands to throw over her face.

Another lady came out of a stall further down and walked hesitantly towards the sinks. “Hey, are you, uh, OK? I heard someone retching their insides out…” She trailed off, as she began washing her hands, watching Zafira carefully in the mirror. Zafira couldn’t help but notice her large hoop earrings that had ‘Hamid’ written in the middle with a heart around the text.

“And you can only assume it was me because of how I look?”

The stranger gaped and blushed, looking down at their hands and scrubbing away furiously.

Zafira laughed. “I’m just kidding, don’t worry. Yeah, it was me. That dumb Grilled Chicken Sandwich must’ve been made with poison or something,” she groused.

“Oh no! Damn, maybe you should sue Wendy’s or something! Can I get you anything, though? A tissue, some water... a lawyer perhaps?” she added with a giggle, “I’m Mics.” She smiled, holding out her hand towards Zafira to shake. Zafira lifted her own hand towards hers but hesitated upon finding them both wet.

She looked up at Mics, “Wet handshake?”

“Wet handshake,” she confirmed, as they laughed.

Meanwhile, in the main section of the diner, Darius and Riya were fretting over Zafira and trying to figure out what to do after rushing after her. “Should we call an ambulance?!” Riya asked, fumbling over her phone and hastily trying to put in her pass code.

“No!” Darius exclaimed, throwing a hand over her phone screen, “...At least, not yet.”

“OK, let’s… take her home? Give her water, a blanket, put her in front of the fireplace, warm her up, but with a cold towel on her head, Netflix in one hand, popcorn in the oth—” Riya began listing off rapidly, marking them off on her fingers.

“I don’t think she needs all of that just yet, Babe. Let’s focus on making sure she’s alive first, and then take her home… Wait, how are we gonna take her home? We walked it here and probably didn’t bring enough money for a taxi or the bus home! Shit.” Darius groaned, rubbing his hands over his face beneath his glasses.

“Those driving lessons would’ve come in real handy, huh?” Riya said sadly, “Hang on, is that Logan over there? We can just ask him, right? I mean, he’s pretty much in love with Zafira, he’d do anything to make sure she was OK, wouldn’t he?”

Darius looked at his girlfriend weirdly, “Really? Like that wouldn’t be overstepping any boundaries at all?”

Riya threw her hands up in defense, “Like all boundaries weren’t dropped when he showed up outside school for Zafira?” she countered, looking at him pointedly.

“...Good point… weird and stalkerish point, but still…” Darius sighed, folding one arm and holding his chin with the other, scrutinising Logan.

Ximena looked up in that moment and noticed the two facing their table, looking at Logan specifically. “Hey, Logan, are those your friends or just some… creepy kids?” She asked, jutting her chin towards the two, confused. Neither of them seemed to notice, too lost in their inner turmoil.

Logan looked in their direction and frowned, “Those are… Zafira’s friends? What are they doing here?”

Riya snapped out of her reverie and noticed the entire table now looking towards them. “Crap!” she hissed under her breath, before shoving Darius towards the crew.

Darius made some incoherent noises in dispute but by the time he was done, he was in front of Logan with Riya’s hand firm on his back. He looked over his shoulder at her, widening his eyes with irritation while Riya gestured towards Logan with her eyes. Darius let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of his nose while turning towards the table. By then, they had all stopped eating and instead focused on the weird pair stood in front of them.

“Hey, uh… Logan, Riya here, is… proposing...” Darius trailed off, trying to figure out which of his eyes to look into and instead focusing on a spot between them. There was a long silence while everyone stared at Darius, waiting for him to continue, including Riya who was watching him with the most bewildered look.

“...Proposing? To Logan? That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!” Colt broke the silence with a scoff, before he threw his head back, dissolving into laughter, “Who’d want to be with this loser, he’d probably smother you with his teen angst before you could get another word in!” He cackled, shaking his head while wiping at the corner of his eyes, “Damn, that was a good one, I haven’t laughed like that in a long while.”

Mona pressed her lips together to avoid laughing herself and Toby and Ximena side-eyed one another before turning away with smirks on their face. Logan narrowed his eyes at each of them before turning to Colt, “Are you done yet?”

Colt grinned cheekily, “By all means, go ahead.”

Logan rolled his eyes, turning back to Darius, “Go on.”

“Riya… wants-you-to-drive-Zafira-home-because-she’s-sick-and-probably-dying-in-the-bathroom-like-none-of-us-can-drive-and-you’re-just-sat-here-so-like-yeah-anyway-like-I-said-she’s-probably-dying-so-she-needs-to-go-home-you-know-to-get-better-and-recover-from-whatever-the-hell-just-happened-wouldn’t-you-rather-she-die-at-home-instead-of-in-a-Wendy’s-bathroom-like-c’mon-a-Wendy’s-bathroom-of-all-places-how-sad-like-wouldn’t-it-be-a-lot-nicer-if-she-died-at-home-or-something-not-that-I-want-her-to-die-but… yeah. So yeah.” Darius said as quickly as he could in one breath. He coughed into his fist and put his hands on his hips. “Right, my job here is done.” He stated with a nod of his head before turning around and marching resolutely into the ladies’ bathroom. Logan stared after him with his mouth agape, along with everyone else at the table. Riya stared at the swinging door of the bathroom before turning back towards Logan.

Toby looked between the now still door of the bathroom and Riya, “Did he just walk into the—”

“Ladies’ bathroom? Yeah.” Riya interrupted with a sheepish smile. “Sorry if we’re overstepping, but, like, we really wouldn’t be asking unless it was completely necessary, like, Zafira was literally about to die, like, you should’ve seen her face, you know what, she could actually be on the floor right now, drowning in her own vomit.”

Once again, there was complete silence at the table as they all stared at Riya. Mona raised a sharp eyebrow at her, “You know, saying Zafira’s drowning in her own vomit doesn’t make us any more likely to put her in our cars? It does the opposite. No matter how cute she is, I’m really not trying to get my seats stained in Wendy’s… Though, I would be willing to make an exception for Zafira, you know, I don’t want her to die in her own vomit, that would just be too tragic.” She mulled, twirling her straw around in a milkshake.

Before anyone could get another word in, the crew’s phones all pinged simultaneously and they exchanged a tense look before Ximena picked up her phone first. “It’s from Kaneko…” she trailed off.

“Need 4 of you at the garage in 10 mins, got 5 potential buyers lined up for a range of Mercedez-Benz 190 SL roadsters…” Mona started.

“Let me guess, I’m not included in that ‘4’, huh?” Colt rolled his eyes, slouching in his seat while sipping his drink.

“Colt, it’s the same gang we dealt with last time in the Mall, the ones that brought guns, so I don’t want you around them. Come back when the deal is done, until then, I don’t know, go hang out with that girl that you, Logan and Mona can’t seem to stop fighting over.” Toby finished with a shocked expression, “Is that, Boss, poking fun and bantering around? I never thought I’d see the day.” Toby whispered in amazement, adjusting his glasses and rereading the text message. Ximena grinned and looked at the three in question.

Colt seemed shocked upon the last part of the message, his expression not going unmissed by the rest of the gang. Logan and Mona raised an eyebrow, looking at Colt with intrigue before he quickly schooled his features and turned away, clearing his throat. “I could’ve done those deals just as well as the next person,” he grumbled.

“You should count yourself lucky, your dad’s trying to keep you safe and instead sending us into the line of fire,” Logan said with a shake of his head, “Thank your lucky stars.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll count them when I see ‘em.” Colt rolled his eyes.

“Really? Well, considering you’re going to be the one driving Zafira back, you should be getting ready to count them when you see her.” Mona said slyly with a smirk.

In that moment, Riya realised that they were all somehow acquainted with Zafira, making a mental note to ask her about them later.

Colt gaped at Mona as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, “I-I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said dismissively, choosing to stuff a handful of chips in his mouth to avoid more conversation.

“Sure.”

Colt narrowed his eyes at her as the rest of the crew stood up, getting ready to leave. Riya stood there watching them leave, confused as to what was going on.

Logan turned towards her and offered a sheepish smile, “I’m sorry, I can’t make it, I’ve gotta head back,” he said while rubbing the back of his neck, “looks like Colt will be the one driving her back, is that OK? You know, if you really want me to take her I can—“

“No, no! It’s fine, wouldn’t want you to get into trouble with your, uh, boss or anything…” Riya said quickly.

“Let us know how Zafira feels, Colt.” Ximena said, patting his shoulder. The crew began walking out, minus Colt, who was left in the booth staring into his drink absentmindedly.

“Yeah, if she’s not feeling any better, maybe we can drop by with some fancy meds and a gift basket or something,” said Toby, raising his eyebrows in excitement, as he slipped into Ximena’s car.

“OK, first of all, I don’t know why you’re excited about that, second of all, great idea, let’s just, us, the Mercy Park Crew, drop by Zafira’s house, where a cop resides.” Mona said sarcastically, as she unlocked the door of her own car.

Toby pouted, “Damn, I forgot about that.”

“C’mon, we’ll have to worry about Zafira later, it’s already been 5 minutes and you know how Kaneko hates it when someone’s late.” Logan said, sliding into his seat and sticking the keys in the ignition.

Back in the ladies’ bathroom, Zafira was surprised to see Darius walk in, who quickly threw his hands over his eyes. “Zafira, you in here? Look if you’re dying on the floor, drowning in your own vomit, then let me know, otherwise I’m keeping my hands on my eyes because I’d hate to look like a pervert or something, ya know?”

Zafira gaped at him before she let out a confused laugh, “Uh, Darius, what are you doing in here?”

“I came to see how you were feeling but also because I just told Logan that he should take you home because you’re not feeling well… so, let’s go, I’d hate for you to to meet your ending here in the bathroom.”

“Wait, what? You asked Logan? Why would you do that? Where did he even come from? I don’t need him to take me home, I can just wal—“ Zafira cut off with a heave, slapping her hand over her mouth and gripping the edge of the sink.

Darius removed his hands and quickly stood next to her, placing a hand on her back. “...You were saying? Look, just let him take you home and then you complain all you want back there, sound good?”

Zafira nodded her head miserably as Darius guided her out of the bathroom.

Thankfully for Riya, she saw Darius and Zafira make their way out of the bathroom before she felt the need to initiate small talk with the brooding Colt.

Darius steered Zafira to the table while she sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Hang on, where’d everyone go? Where’s Logan?” Darius asked, looking around the diner confused.

“Colt? ...Don’t tell me the entire gang was here and we didn’t even know.” Zafira said with a laugh.

“...Wow. You look like you’ve been through hell.” Colt stated, looking at Zafira with slightly veiled worry.

“Thanks, it was really hot back there.” Zafira deadpanned.

Colt laughed and stood up. “C’mon, let’s get you home before you vomit all over my shoes.”

Zafira raised a brow and then leaned forward towards Colt, faking a dry heaving sound.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Not on the shoes! Not the shoes!” Colt yelled, jumping back onto the booth and backing away.

Zafira moved back before she burst out laughing, slapping her thigh. “Your face! Phew, that was a classic!” She wiped at the corners of her eyes as her giggles died down.

“You little…” Colt shook his head, folding his arms while glaring at Zafira. The waitress walked over and gave Colt a look.

“Could you please get off the booth, people sit in those.” Justine said before putting a hand on her hip, “I’d hate to have to call my manager out for this.”

Colt quickly jumped down and brushed himself off. “Sorry about that,” he said, coughing into his fist awkwardly, “Right, let’s go.”

He speed walked out of the diner and the trio quickly followed. On their way out, they passed a couple that were sat in the outdoor eating area, with one of them feeding the other that had their eyes closed. “Damien!” The lady called out, laughing while putting her hand over his eyes, “You’re supposed to guess by the taste, stop trying to peek! Stop trying to smell it too!”

“Khadi,” the man called Damien complained, placing his hand over hers and trying to pull it away, “this is too hard, let me be the one feeding you and you’ll see how hard it is!” He laughed, finally managing to free his eyes. He gasped upon seeing the piece in Khadi’s hand. “See! I knew it was a cookie!”

“Yeah, obviously! But you didn’t know which one, so your punishment is not getting the rest of it.” She stated proudly, popping the rest of it in her mouth while Damien watched in horror.

Zafira smiled to herself. Cute, she thought. But her smile dropped when she saw Colt’s motorbike. “Hang on, you’re taking me home on that?” She paled, placing a hand on her stomach, “That doesn’t sound like a such a good idea…”

Darius and Riya watched her with worry, and even Colt frowned.

“I would love to indulge in your car fantasies, which, on any other day, I would absolutely hate, but seeing as we have no other way of getting you home, the bike is the only option… Unless you want me to carry you all the way home.” Colt said, raising an eyebrow at Zafira.

Zafira furrowed her brow and sighed, “Fine, motorbike it is,” she turned to her friends, “I take it you’ll walk it?” she asked.

Darius and Riya nodded, “Don’t worry about us, you just focus on getting home in one piece.” Darius said sympathetically, patting Zafira’s shoulder.

“Yeah, in one piece that isn’t covered in vomit, please.” Colt added, swinging his leg over the bike and pulling his helmet on.

Zafira rolled her eyes and waved her friends off, “See ya later, yeah?” She jumped onto the bike behind Colt, taking the spare helmet from his hands and strapping herself in. “Hey, Colt, pull over to the side of the road when I give you a sign, unless you want chicken sandwich all the way down your back.” She laughed.

Colt rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time even though Zafira couldn’t see. “...You’re, OK though, right? Not thinking about dying anytime soon?” He asked hesitantly.

“Why? Would you miss me?” Zafira teased.

“Of course.” Colt said, without missing a beat.

Zafira’s eyes widened as she slid her arms around his waist, feeling the bike start up. She stared at the back of his helmet in shock, waiting for him to continue.

“Who else would talk shit about Logan with me?” Colt said. Zafira could practically hear the smile in his voice.

There it is, she thought while shaking her head, what were you hoping for, you fool.

Colt began driving out of the diner and down the path he knew a little too well now, trying not to pay attention to how Zafira’s arms were wrapped around him.

It was only halfway through the journey when Colt felt a few rapid taps on his shoulder. He frowned, before realising this was one of Zafira’s ‘signs’ and quickly looked for an opportunity to pull up to the side of the road.

As soon as he’d found a spot, Zafira was all but jumping off the bike and unfastening her helmet. She knew she’d hate to vomit all over someone’s lawn or a public walkway in general, so she pressed her lips together and couldn’t help but thank her lucky stars when she saw a bin sitting a few yards away, running over to the poor, unsuspecting thing.

As she hurled more of her meal out, Colt hurriedly parked the bike and rushed over to Zafira’s side. He blanked once he got to her and decided he would hold her hair back instead of standing around like a lamppost.

With his free hand, he poked about in his pockets looking for any tissues or anything else that would help the situation but fell short and instead chose to rub her back instead.

“Better out than in, am I right?” He said halfheartedly, frowning as she began taking deep breaths.

“Right, you’re probably not in the best position to be speaking right now, I’ll just let you vomit to your heart’s content.” He winced as she heaved once more and then stood up straight.

Thankfully, Zafira had managed to nab some napkins before she’d left so she managed to clean herself up as best she could. “What the fuck was in that burger that’s making me so cough up my insides so violently?! Do I need to sue these little shits.” Zafira exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips and blowing some hair out of her face.

Colt couldn’t help but smile and zone out for a second. How cute.

“Hello? Earth to Colt? Are you in there?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking about how cute you look, you know, all sweaty, hair a mess, red in the face.”

Zafira gaped at him, “I… wha—?”

Colt smirked at her, “Cat got your tongue?”

Zafira narrowed her eyes, “You just wait until you catch me on a good day, ‘cute’ won’t even cover how good I look, and the cat will have your tongue.” She said, flipping her hair as best as she could over her shoulder.

Now it was Colt’s turn to gape at her, but he managed to recover enough to raise an eyebrow and have his charms back intact, “Well then, it’s a good thing that every other day is your good day, huh? Maybe that’s why I’m always so speechless whenever I first see you.” Colt slid his hands into his pockets, pinning her with that mesmerising look.

Zafira’s mouth opened and soon enough a bright pink blush had made its way onto her face. She stared into his dark eyes and found herself captivated, unable to break the gaze. “Are you… flirting with me right now?”

“Maybe.”

“Unbelievable.”

Colt managed to snap out of whatever he was preoccupied with and stared at her, somewhat confused.

“You’re really trying to charm a girl when she’s at her most vulnerable state, right after she vomited up a Wendy’s, knowing that she’ll have no choice but to get back on that bike with you, and have you drive her home where you’ll probably hint at wanting to be invited in.”

Colt gawked at Zafira, rendered speechless. “What?! I never—“

“I can’t believe you, Colt,” Zafira put her hands on her hips, “You’re an incorrigible flirt, just who do you think you are?”

“Whoa, hang on a minute! You’ve got the wrong end of the stick—“

Zafira gasped in horror, her hands flying up to her mouth, “You were trying to give me your stick?!” She almost screeched.

Colt threw his hands up in defence, taking a step back as his mouth dropped open in shock. Then he narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms again. “You’re fucking around with me, aren’t you?”

Zafira presses her lips together, a snort coming out against her will. “Sorry, you’re just too easy to play around with.” She burst out in full blown laughter, smacking her thigh.

Colt sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“I can think of a few things.” Zafira smiled coyly.

It was Colt’s turn to blush as his expression went slack. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

Zafira laughed, “C’mon, Lover Boy, you still need to take me home.”

…

It was when they were outside the Wheeler residence that Zafira once again felt that familiar lurching feeling in her stomach, “Oh no…” she moaned, unfastening the helmet as fast as she could for a second time that day. This time, Colt was slightly more prepared and he’d already parked the bike and dismounted it.

“Let’s get you inside, I don’t think anyone wants to see a girl projectile vomiting right about now.” Colt chuckled, wrapping one arm around her back and ushering her inside. But it was too late, Zafira felt the familiar burning of the acid in her throat and was heaving out small neutral coloured bits onto Colt’s shoes faster than she could tell Colt where the keys were.

There was a silence after Zafira had stopped hurling out her meal or rather, what was left of it.

“...” Colt blinked a couple of times, almost unseeingly.

“...Guess you no longer want to come in and give me your stick, huh?” Zafira said for no reason, with a weak laugh. She straightened up and pressed her hand to her face, trying to wipe away whatever had stained her mouth.

Colt stared at her for a few seconds before he burst out laughing. Zafira was shocked and slowly joined in, not caring how they must’ve looked to passersby.

“I can’t… I can’t believe you just... brought up the stick again... after you just threw up on me.” Colt said in between laughs.

Zafira’s laughter dissolved away and all she could do was stare at Colt’s shoes sympathetically, rather embarrassed.

“Those shoes, they didn’t cost much did they? This is awful, I’m so sorry.” She moaned, squeezing her eyes shut and dropping her head back.

“It’s fine, nothing that sweet, illegal money can’t fix.” Colt joked with a wink.

“Colt!” Zafira gasped, looking around furtively, “You can’t just say stuff like that out loud!”

“Why, will your dad appear out of nowhere if I say ‘illegal’ three times? No wait, maybe I should rub a briefcase full of a couple million dollars and then say it.” He wondered, putting his free hand on his chin and rubbing it thoughtfully.

Zafira shook her head and laughed, “Will you shut up?”

He grinned as they stared at each other again. It’s really quite easy to get lost in those eyes, Zafira thought, damn.

Zafira cleared her throat and looked away, fiddling around in her pockets to pull out the keys, but not without Colt catching that lovely pink blush on her face again. He smiled contently.

“Is your dad home?”

“No…why, you tryna give me some of that stick action?” Zafira wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

Colt pressed his lips together to avoid laughing. “We’re never gonna let that one go, are we?”

“Nope.” Zafira grinned.

Colt shook his head, “I was asking because I was looking forward to stealing that apple pie.”

Zafira sighed dramatically, “Even in a cop’s household, you can’t let go of your criminal behaviour.”

Colt narrowed his eyes, “You know, for the daughter of a cop, you’re awfully close to us criminals.”

“What can I say? I’m attracted to the dark side.” She joked, removing herself from his hold and guiding them inside. She took off her shoes and suddenly stopped, remembering Colt’s burger covered shoes. “Right, uh, give me your shoes, wait, and your jeans, I think I got those covered too.”

“Wow, you like to move fast, huh?”

“Shut up!” she slapped his shoulder, “You know what I mean!”

“Do I, though? Do I really?”

Zafira put her hands on her hips, “Hand over your things before I decide to shower you in chicken bits.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Colt grinned cheekily, as he kicked off his shoes and moved to unbuckle his belt, all while maintaining eye contact.

Zafira’s eyes widened, and she rapidly began turning pink once again, “I’ll, uh, go find some trousers while you, uh, yeah.”

“Oh, so now you’re shy. What happened to wanting the stick?” He teased.

“Not another word out of you, Colt.” She pointed at him, with narrowed eyes as she walked backwards. Colt saluted her with a wink.

Once Zafira was no longer within his sight and safely in the bathroom with a change of clothes, she placed a hand on her chest and took a deep breath in. What the hell is going on?! She shook her head and quickly washed up, throwing her clothes in the hamper and changing into a tank top and sweats. She looked at herself in the mirror and halfheartedly tied her hair up in a bun. “Yeah, this is fine. I’m not making an effort for no one, this is… fine.” She tried to reassure herself, dusting herself off absentmindedly.

“Hey, uh, Zafira? Are you really finding me some clothes right now or was this just part of your ulterior motive to get me half naked in the middle of your living room?” Colt yelled.

Zafira’s eyes widened and she hurried out of the bathroom into her father’s room, grabbing the first pair of combat trousers she saw. “Wow,” she scoffed, “how fitting.”

She raced back into the living room with one hand over her eyes. “I’m here, I’m here! Don’t be doing any weird half-naked things!”

Zafira held the trousers out in front of her, keeping her other hand firm over her eyes. When she felt him grab them from her hand, she spun around, giving him her back.

“Let me know when you’re done.”

“You scared of seeing a little thigh, Zafira?”

“No,” she said firmly, “I’m giving you privacy, you know, because I have manners?”

Colt laughed and after some more rustling sounds, he called out to her.

“Are you sure? I don’t trust you…” said Zafira.

“Yes, I’m sure. Why don’t you come over here and check?”

Zafira turned around with her eyes still closed. She slowly opened one and then the other, relieved to find him fully clothed. “Right, I’ll just, throw these in the washer and get them back to you as fast as I can. I don’t know about those shoes though…” She trailed off, looking concerned at the now chicken covered shoes.

“Relax,” Colt chuckled, “I’ll just, wash them… and then… donate them or recycle them somehow. Yeah. Maybe I’ll keep them, you know, as your first gift to me, Zafira vomit.”

Zafira scrunched up her nose, “Ew! No! Don’t do that… wait, what do you mean ‘first gift’?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Were you not inviting me back here to tell me you have a huge crush on me?”

Zafira’s jaw dropped, “I do not have a huge crush on you!”

“Oh, my bad,” Colt frowned, “it’s just a small crush then?”

Zafira pinched the bridge of her nose, “What am I gonna do with you?”

Colt grinned, “This is beginning to feel a lot like déjà vu, don’t you think?”

Zafira shook her head with a small smile as she gingerly picked up the trousers and went to the utility room after dropping by the hamper. Once she’d started the wash, she slowly walked out into the living room where Colt was now gazing at her family photos. “You’re still here?”

Colt looked up at the sound, “Where else would I go?”

Zafira shrugged, looking out of the window to find the sky bathed in a warm orange, “I don’t know, home.”

“This place feels more like home to me right now…” he murmured.

Zafira bit her lip and looked around, desperate for a distraction of some sort. “Well, what better time to watch movies illegally than with a criminal by your side, right?”

She bounded over to the couch and pulled out her laptop from under some books as Colt watched her, amused. He slowly walked over and sat down next to her, wondering how he got so lucky to have someone like her in his life.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Zafira asked, turning her head to him.

“Well, for cleaning me up I guess,” he laughed quietly, “but also for giving me… a home of sorts. I can’t believe I’ve felt more love in this household than I have in my entire 20 years of living as Kaneko’s son. Is your dad looking to adopt any time soon?” Colt joked halfheartedly.

“Well, if you stick around, maybe he’ll take you in as his son-in-law.” Zafira said, turning back to the laptop with a small smile on her face.

Colt’s face warmed as his mouth opened in shock, “Was that... an indirect proposal just now?”

“Maybe.” She winked at him, focusing on picking a movie and smirking at his red, shell shocked face.

FIN.

Written by: @wzkdj (Instagram)

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zasvepare · 5 years

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DIE HEIMAT Lettre à Arnaud

Graz, le 24 juin 2019

Mon cher Arnaud,

je suis désolé de ne pas avoir pu t’écrire plus tôt. Ayant relu ta dernière lettre ce matin (une bonne semaine après la réception!) j’ai décidé, sur-le-champ, de t’écrire une lettre véritable, oui, sur le papier, à la main, et par-dessus le marché en marchant ! La preuve ?

J’ai tellement hâte de te montrer toutes les richesses que j’ai dénichées dans les marchés aux puces de Land Steiermark! Mais avant cela, j’aimerais te faire entrer tout doucement dans cette ville de Graz, tout comme l’avait fait Michel Butor dans l'Emploi du temps, en introduisant son lecteur pas à pas dans son Manchester imaginaire (tu peux t’imaginer, c’est le bouquin que je suis en train de traduire!).

Le premier spectacle qui s'est offert à mes yeux ici à Graz, le soir même de mon débarquement, c'était une vieille femme, postée devant la parfumerie Orsay, et qui ne mendiait ni amusait le public, mais se plaisait à lui tenir un discours en pur serbe (à l'accent de Herzégovine); j'ai réussi à en intercepter quelques paroles que voici, pour tes oreilles : Je vous le baise bien, votre sang hitlérien, et je vous le baise encore sur un bûcher ! Allez le mettre, votre Hitler, dans le trou de cul, tous parmi vous!

(Je te dirais comment ça sonne en serbe. Si j’avais vu ça dans un bouquin, cela aurait l’air trop forcé et ridicule! Pourtant c'était comme ça dans la vraie vie : elle a même prononcé deux synonymes pour baiser ). Pour couper court, c'est en ce moment, cher Arnaud, que je me suis rendu compte que j'étais chez moi !

Et c'était seulement la première apparition de la Heimat. Il y en aura, s'avérera-t-il, d'autres apparitions vertigineuses, macabres même ! Lors de mes premières promenades fortuites (fortuites dans la mesure où le permet le plan urbanistique de la ville) dans la vitrine d’un antiquaire près du Jakominiplatz, j’ai surpris une carté du 19e siècle de la Bosnie (qui à l’époque était occupée par l’Empire Autriche-Hongrie) et des terres autour de celle-ci. J’y ai reconnu la ville de Valjevo, où j’ai passé quelques années avant l’école élémentaire (ici appelé Valiova), Kragujevac (Krakoiewacz) et Serraglio. Celle-ci est Sarajevo.

Puisque nous y sommes, à Sarajevo, quelques jours plus tard, le quinze, j'ai passé à Volkshaus, une salle où le Parti communiste local (on m'a dit qu'ils étaient sérieux) avait organisé une Fête yougoslave (annoncée, aussi en serbe, comme Yugofešta). De quoi s'agissait-il donc? Il ne s’agissait, rien de moins, que de tenir des concerts des groupes de folklore pendant toute la journée de ce 15 juin, arrosés par des litres de bière Puntigamer et finalisés par le concert du groupe Zabranjeno pušenje. Tu n'en as pas entendu parler? Eh bien, dans les années 1980, ce groupe rock de Sarajevo était le seul représentant du mouvement de néo-primitivisme (va voir ce que c’est). Ses membres avaient réalisé le meilleur show de télé comico-satirique yougoslave qui s’appelait Top lista nadrealista (Liste top des surréalistes : ils n'avaient heureusement rien à voir avec Breton et co.). Un groupe culte, donc, que je retrouve trente ans plus tard à Graz, et ce lors de la fête des jeunes communistes styriens. Et c'était comment le concert ? Eh bien, franchement, je ne me souviens pas; ou à peine : je me souviens de quelques mesures de la chanson Zenica blues (leur réplique très drôle à Folsom prison blues de Johnny Cash; regarde : ils ont l’air tout réjoui) et de Šeki’s on the road again. J’ai raté la plupart de leur concert car j'étais occupé à acheter de la bière. Un premier verre (plastique) de Puntigamer a pris une bonne trentaine de minutes de se transformer dans une gorgée et c’est alors que j’ai su que ce sera le seul verre. Ensuite, posté sur un escalier, je devais éviter la fumée. Quelle fumée ? Celle provenant des grilles spécialement aménagés pour l'occasion. Là on pouvait acheter des spécialités balkaniques, comme cevapcici, sarma, pleskavica, accompagnés tout comme il faut par des oignons. Bref, rien que de la meat is murder, avec un peu de choux, et tout cela dans un lieu appelé Dolly Bell, d'après le premier film d'Emir Kusturica.

J’étais, je t’avoue, pleinement déçu par ce spectacle nostalgique, organisé en plus par un parti communiste. J’y ai flairé une naïveté énorme, tout près de celle qui a poussé Peter Handke (à tous les égards mon écrivain bien aimé) de plaider pour Slobodan Milosevic en tant que sauveur de cette même Yougoslavie !

Ou bien cette parade du Parti communiste était une perspicacité de business (ça marchait bien lors de cette soirée) ! On n’échappe à la naïveté d’une Heimat du communisme-soft, western-friendly, surtout dans cette époque néolib. où ce communisme est transformé en marque commerciale (fût-ce dans une grille de cevapcici à la Sarajevo). Un communisme comestible.

Pourtant, toutes les réserves prises en compte, le sentiment de reconnaissance d’un chez-soi a continué et s’est sensiblement accru quand j’ai, nous y sommes enfin, rendu visite au marché aux puces. Les plus grandes puces de Graz sont organisées dans la banlieue de Puntigam, tout à côté de la brasserie de la Puntigamer. Et le premier livre que je me suis surpris à prendre dans une boîte cartonnée et d’ouvrir, mais non, que j’ai retrouvé ouvert (tu te souviens qu’autrefois j’étais passionné de livres!); qu’est-ce que tu penses que c’était ? La première page de Sur le pont de Drina d’Ivo Andric, que tous les Yougoslaves connaissent par coeur. La preuve? La voici.

Mon dieu, Arnaud, la vie n’a commence qu’alors, à la vue de ces banlieues !

Il faut dire que, grâce à la bourse de cette institution locale de Kulturvermittlung, je profite (mais seulement durant un mois) d’un logement somptueux qui se trouve au centre-ville, tout en haut de la colline de Schlossberg, là où tout le monde veut monter, et payer 1.60E pour le faire, et au spectacle duquel une Bosnienne a, il y a quelques heures, dit à son petit ami : Prvo pa muško ! c’est-à-dire : Le premier lieu que tu me fais visiter et il s’avère que c’est un Bingo! Le voici, ce Bingo.

Cela doit être la vue la plus connue de cette ville. Les habitants de Graz doivent en avoir marre. Mais moi aussi ! Tout en ne voulant pas me montrer irrespectueux vis-à-vis de cette institution qui me prend pour un écrivain (vois-tu?), j’ai attendu impatiemment ce samedi, j’avais hâte à laisser derrière moi toutes ces façades somptueuses, tout ce luxe blink-blink pour les yeux touristiques (dont je ne me lassais pas à imaginer les coulisses) et de rejoindre la bienheureuse banlieue, les quartiers louches (chelous), les pavés défoncés, les mines crispées, tout ce qui n’était pas fait pour l’oeil de celui qui est en train de passer, mais pour le corps de celui qui y restera, pour un résident, oui, et c’est ce que je suis, jusqu’au début du mois de juillet au moins, un écrivain-résident, pas un écrivain-touriste! Donc, je mérité de m’y rendre !

Ainsi me suis-je pressé pour arriver à Puntigam ce samedi matin (avant neuf heures), ayant pris le tram numéro cinq à partir de Schlossbergplatz. Devant un Cineplexx (il ne s’agit pas de celui passant les films porno; nous sommes dans une époque où ce double X veut dire luxe), une centaine de vendeurs avait déjà déplié leurs ballots.

Et, tout comme Luise G., organisatrice de cette résidence, m’a chaleureusement prévenu, il y avait des Serbes. Il y en avait beaucoup. De Yougoslaves, de Yougos en général. C’était comme sur mon marché aux puces natal (pourrais-je dire natal? je le pourrais!) de Zemun. Je passais les trajectoires à côté de Cineplexx dans tous les sens, je veux dire ces boulevards entre les marchandises, en écoutant la musique des accents pour la grande plupart bosniaques ou dalmates, avec quelques étirements slovènes. J’en ai tiré pour toi ce bref échange entre un vendeur et un acheteur, ayant pris les tenailles de son ballot :

Jesi našo nešta? Ja ! Ta ti je odlična, zube da izvadiš!

(T’as trouvé quelque chose ! / Ouais ! / Celles-là, elles sont excellentes même pour t’arracher les dents!)

Encore un spectre de Marx dans la boîte dans l’édition de Fischer ! Mais revenons à nos moutons, à nos moutons musicaux je veux dire ! Lors de cette première randonnée à travers Puntigam, j’ai beaucoup vu et écouté, mais il n’y avait pas grand-chose à acheter. C’était simplement un samedi faible. J’en serais rentré les mains vides et tristes si un Yougo n’y avait pas surgi du sol avec deux boîtes pleines de disques.

Y ayant déniché Harvest de Neil Young parmi de nombreux LPs allemands (surtout lisses! glanz!), je ne me suis pas adressé en serbe au patron. Ah non ! Dieu m’en garde hors de l'ex-Yu ! J’ai posé la question apprise par coeur quelques mois avant d’arriver ici : Was kosten die Platten? Quelle en fut la réponse ? Ein Euro. Sans discussion même ! C’était mieux qu’en Serbie. (Dans la photo qui suit, tu verras le disque confronté au celui de Pearl Jam des années 1990, Vitalogy, l’album que j’ai traité de ‘fils’ de Harvest)

Pour faire une comparaison, deux Plattenladen de Graz que j’avais déjà visitées avant Puntigam vendaient leurs disques usés pour minimum 10 euros. Ceux qui étaient proposés pour 3 ou 5 ne valaient strictement rien; parmi eux j’ai vu un McCartney.

Mais c’est dans Dux Records au quartier Lend que j’ai trouvé un disque formidable : la première édition soviétique des singles précoces des Rolling Stones. Son titre? Игра с огнем/ Play with fire.

Je l’ai montré à mon voisin de Géorgie, Zviad : il a failli pleurer à la vue de cette couverture. Cela a dû le rappeler sa jeunesse. Le disque avait paru en 1989.

Je ne l’aurais, pour ma part, jamais pris si j’avais déjà “Play with fire” dans un de six ou sept LP que je possède de RS; Play with fire est pour moi de loin leur meilleure chanson. Chez un autre disquaire, avec un nom allusif, Inandout Records, j’ai déniché le troisième album de Stranglers, Black and white, où se trouve aussi ma chanson favorite de ce groupe, Nice’n’Sleazy.

Dix euros seraient donc rien pour un résident de Graz, en matière de disques. Et les nouveautés, encore en emballage ? Cela ne dépasse pas 20 ou 25 euros. Je me suis souvenu encore une fois de ce disquaire de Belgrade, Yugovynil, qui vend toujours les nouveautés pour des prix dépassant 30 euros. Il est situé dans le centre d’un café-quartier récemment gentrifié de la rue Cetinjska, donc bien adapté aux poches de cette jeunesse posh qui peut bien se les acheter et se les mettre sur leurs... Insta. (Bien sûr, j’ai rencontré leur chef au marché aux puces à Zemun à maintes reprises, achetant ses disques pour 1 EUR maximum pour les revendre à des prix hors commun, sans taxe!)

Revenons à Graz (qui, comme nous avons dit, n’est pas tellement ailleurs!). Une semaine plus tard, le 22 juin, je suis entré dans le tram 5 de bonne heure. Une inscription dans le tram donnait à lire, en slovène : Danas velja vsaka vozovnica kot dnevna karta do 24 H. “Aujourd’hui, tout ticket de transport sera valable comme le ticket journal, jusqu’à 24 heures”.

Pourquoi donc ? Ce jour-là, comme je le saurai plus tard, c’était le jour de Pride.

Cette fois, donc, Puntigam était plein à craquer. Un Slovène vendait des disques que tu me vois ici feuilleter. Ils coûtent combien? - ai-je demandé en allemand. Pourquoi je n’ai pas parlé slovène? J’ai toujours eu envie, mon cher Arnaud, de pouvoir me promener quelque part où tout le monde parle ma langue sans savoir que je peux les comprendre. Le Slovène était pourtant plus raffiné que le Yougo d’une semaine d’avant. “Chaque disque a son prix!” “Beatles 1967/1970?” “20 euros” “Come Together single?” “10 euros” Ah, le voilà, il était aussi un Beatles fan. “Talking Heads, Little creatures?” “6″. “Danke”.

C’est que j’attendais trop, mon cher Arnaud. L’Autriche est quand-même le pays capitaliste le plus proche de nous, les Balkaniques. Dans les années 1980, que j’apprécie tout comme toi, je m’imaginais un bon nombre d’Autrichiens ayant parmi leurs disques les albums et singles des Television, Pixies, Sonic Youth, Dinosaur Jr., Gun Club, Siouxsie and the Banshees, et j’en passe, et même dans les années 1990, où cette maladie de CD avait déjà pris le dessus.

Mais, hors la façade de ces DUX RECORDS, faite d'après la couverture de l’album Goo de Sonic Youth, hors quelques conneries habituelles de ces années trouvables même à Belgrade, il s’est avéré que nos marchés aux puces respectifs sont, de ce point de vue, absolument contemporains : leurs disques proviennent aussi pour la plupart des années 1960/1970, tout au plus jusqu’à 1980.

Donc, ce 22 juin, un jour après le solstice d’été, un jour après la promenade de Cléo de 5 à 7 dans le film d’Agnès Varda, je m’arrête devant quelques boîtes de disques. C’est une Yougoslave qui vent. Je lui demande dans mon bas-allemand: Was kosten die Platten? Elle me répond d’une façon compliquée, je n’arrive pas à saisir un mot, Arnaud, pourtant je fais oui de la tête avant de poser une question supplémentaire Für eine Stücke? (Pour une pièce?), sur quoi elle me fait: Drei euro.

Je m’y mets et j’en déniche le soundtrack pour un des films les plus drôles de ma vie, My fair lady (oui, je sais que c’est peut-être hip maintenant, mais il s’agit d’un musical, et, tout comme pour Hair, je n’en aime que le tracklist!). Et ensuite je dis Danke et continue à marcher sans rien acheter.

C’est alors que je rencontre Ada Kobusiewicz. (Si je ne t’en ai rien dit jusqu’à ce moment-là, c’est que j’ai voulu que tu la rencontrasses en lisant!) Ada est une artiste visuelle qui fait aussi des films et qui est auteure d’une exposition actuelle dans Schlossbergstollen (Tunnel pour les piétons); Illusion, basée sur les effets de lumière et de couleurs. Elle avait passé quelques années en Serbie et j’ai eu l’occasion de voir ses photos du marché aux puces de Novi Sad, appelé Nylon. Je te montrerai à Arles cette série de photos qui s’appelle Fleeting Installation (2014).

Donc, je rencontre Ada qui me dit s’être procuré de quelques vêtements. Pour combien, je lui demande. Pour 10 centimes pièce! Va voir ! La pluie commence. Je cours immédiatement chez la Yougoslave, demande en bas-allemand si ce serait possible de prendre My fair lady pour 2 euros, et quant au Slovène; si je pourrais avoir Talking Heads pour 5. La pluie devient forte. Mon prix balkanique est immédiatement accepté. Revenu chez moi (de chez moi? je suis toujours chez moi !) je découvre que l’album de Talking Heads est une édition de Jugoton, le disquaire yougoslave le plus important, de Zagreb.

Alors, Ada me montre l’intérieur de ce fameux Cineplexx. Là il s’avère que c’est encore plus riche que je ne m’imaginais. Tout en jurant parce que je n’avais pas sur moi de sac supplémentaire, je me surprends à boire un café mit zunehmen, pour la première fois dans un marché aux puces. Pourquoi ? Bah, simplement, ils ont des bancs où s’asseoir, où l’on peut même supporter la pluie.

Est-ce donc si facile de se faire servir? Oui, et marcher avec un café, mettre son verre en plastique chaque fois devant une boîte pleine de disques ou de livres bon marché et le retrouver intact.

Et puis, se reposer sur un de ces bancs en attendant Ada et en regardant un Chinois content, s’étant muni d’un ventilateur.

Après cela, toujours guidé par Ada, je vais visiter une boulangerie spéciale qui revend le pain de la veille. Mais ce n’est pas un bäckerei comme les autres, Arnaud; ici, au centre ville, à Lend, à Mariahilferstrasse, il s’agit d’un concept-store, dont la vitrine te dira tout !

Donc, au moment où je commençais la lettre que je te destine, j’étais à Sackstrasse, où, à 17h40 précisément, une camionnette jaune s’est arrêté au milieu de la rue. Il en est sorti un employé avec une corbeille orange. Il s’est approché d’une grande boîte jaune d’en face, a mis sa corbeille dessous, et ayant ouvert le fond de la boîte, il en a fait tomber une pile de lettres.

Cette lettre t’arrivera beaucoup plus tôt que celles-ci, ramassées dans la corbeille du facteur, mais j’espère que tu ne m’en voudras pas ! C’est quand même d’une HEIMAT que je t’écris là!!! Hein ! Je t’écrirai bientôt, surtout si je déniche un chanteur ou un écrivain italien pour tes oreilles.

P S Quant à l’alcool, le vin... le rouge, tu peux t’imaginer, c’est pas grand-chose. Des vins blancs? C’est mieux. A considérer leurs bières de près, on est plus optimiste qu’en France. Je suis décidément devenu fan de Gösser. J’en importerais sans doute clandestinement quelques-unes, cet été, à Arles.

J’espère que je ne t’ai pas assommé avec cette lettre énorme ! Mais il y a des photos aussi ! Et que tu ne m’en voudras pas que ce soit une lettre ouverte ! En attendant ta réponse (épique comme d’habitude) !

Bojan

#arnaud #graz #lettre #français #puntigam #kpÖ #zabranjeno pusenje #heimat #zenica #valiova #serraglio #ada kobusiewicz #rolling stones #talking heads #neil young #ivo andric

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