Das Papahund

Last night, as usual, I riveted a sheet of stainless steel to my bedroom door and, as usual, by dawn the dog had gnawed through it. As usual, I fired a few shots in the general direction of the hole without much hope of hitting anything and as usual I missed.

So what was different about this morning, you might be wondering?

Well, you see, my dog can normally back out of a hole pretty damn fast when there’s a hail of bullets flying at him, but today, when I eventually got up, I found a little head stuck in the door. Now, this would normally be fine. I’d kick him a few times in the face, maybe spray Cillit Bang in his eyes to calm him – a common thing any dog-owner might do. But this was different. This was strange, and I didn’t quite accept what my eyes were telling me until I opened the door. You see, on the other side I found there was a regular Jack Russell body, but on my side there was the tiny head of Cardinal Ratzinger, glaring up at me und spidding ze curses in Cherman.

Gott in Himmel! I cried. Was is los mit diesen Hund?

I was soon to find out.

Achtung! the little pope-dog barked at me. I have your little Hund all the soul possessed and taken over mit mein great Popelisches powers, und I will not it release until you about the Katholische Kirche Romanische all the silly joke-making stoppen machen. Und also the Cherman accent you not the lampoon-gemaking will, immer again!! Versteh????

I was astonished. I really was.

Jesus, Ratzo, I said, Why didn’t you say so? Look: here’s a bone.

With that, I scooped up the leg of wildebeest I’d been chewing in bed over the last few weeks, and flung it out the window.

Unable to control his basic instincts, the little Popehound sprang through the window after it, and as he flew past me I heard him shout

Damn you, Bock. You vill not be so lucky the nachste zeit. In the future time, I will possess your left leg and kick you in den Hodensack until you cease the amuse-making already . . .

As his voice trailed away, I was figuring out where to get another Jack Russell, and a wildebeest-leg.



Das papahundchen


Ratzo – First Blood

Ratzo’s Leap

7 thoughts on “Das Papahund

  1. Oh fuck. It was too long. Look, just scroll up a bit and you’ll find it. I’ll never get the hang of this technology shit. Fuck it.

  2. Deutsch ist so eine schoene Sprache! Es gehoert sich nicht, die so zu verhunzen. Da geht die Sprache vor die Hunde! Schande und ewige Verdamnis ueber dich!

  3. This is a loose translation of ratzibatzi’s comment, and many thanks to d’Arcy-Einbahnstrasse for his help:

    German is such a lovely language, you shouldn’t be filthying it, thats how the language has gone to the dogs. Disgrace and eternal damnation on you.

    Jesus! And there I was, thinking Germans had no sense of humour!

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.