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“Fritz!” bellowed Klouse (the K is silent) Swab, leader of the Wicked Eugenicist Fascists (WEF) and would-be dictator of the world. “Schnell, schnell, Fritz. A lame snail could on ze razor blades faster than you move.”
Fritz rushed to stand before his master, knowing full well that were he one-millionth of a nano-second later than Klouse thought was acceptable, he would stand in as a scapecat, and receive a very severe kicking.
“What is it mein Meister?” enquired Fritz, as he stood beside his Führer, panting a little, as from a standstill to the speed of light in three seconds requires a little more than a standard effort.
Klouse glanced at his stopwatch and remarked, “Just outside ze tolerable time, mein Leibeigener [my serf]. A good kicking in order vould be now, but unfortunately, my gout is up playing today, so I vill have to debit this to your account until recovered has my foot.”
Fritz groaned inwardly, as at the best of times Klouse was cantankerousness in the flesh, but when his gout was upon him, cantankerous was far too mild a word to describe his disposition. Adolf, Klouse’s latest feline acquisition was perched on his lap with ears back, as a shouting Klouse was intolerable to any cat, and Fritz could see that his claws were not far from being unsheathed.
“However,” growled Klouse, “I more problems have zan Adolf has fleas, and I have just ill tidings received from zat OurTearRoar place. Tell me Fritz, how is it zat such a small, underpopulated and insignificant country causes to me more problems zan most real countries? Vhy is this Fritz?”
“I really am unable to articulate an acceptable response, sir,” said Fritz, hesitantly. “But perhaps it has to do with about forty per cent of the population being exceptionally stupid, do you think?”
“Ja, ja, I think you are correct being, Fritz. And most of zheir politicians seem to from zat forty per cent be drawn. Ja, you are right indeed. My dealings vith zat Ardeau creature have confirmed zis, and my greatest nightmare has been zat vun day, politicians vill arise in zat country, who do not from that forty per cent come. I am thinking, Fritz, zhat zis evil day has arrived.”
“Surely not, sir,” cried Fritz. “We have taken great pains to ensure a steady supply of compliant and weak politicians who can be bent to our, or rather your will, have we not?”
“Ja, ja, I of this know of course Fritz,” said Klouse, “and the Ardeau object vas our triumph in inadequacy, ineptitude, mental deficiency, and overall defectiveness, only equalled by ze Canadian Castro boy. Vhat does he call himself again Fritz?”
“Justinda Trudern, sir,” Fritz replied.
Klouse gave a short bark of derisive laughter, causing Adolf to give a warning hiss. “Fidel Castrato vould be to ze mark closer, Fritz.” Then his face went purple as he exclaimed. “Vhen I think of the Ardeau creature my blood pressure accelerates substantially. I just remembered, she is now by us at ze WEF employed. Who vas the imbecile who thought zat giving her a job here a good idea was?”
“You may have been slightly involved in the decision, sir,” replied Fritz, bracing himself for a severe reprimand with the possibility of an outbreak of future kicking. He knew full well that the decision had been Klouse’s, having promised the Ardeau woman a soft job at the WEF in order to entice her into the PM’s job six years previously.
Klouse looked as though he wanted to bite Fritz’s head off for a moment, and then decided against it. “Vell, ve her stupidity underestimated,” he sheepishly responded. “But she does a very commendable streak of evil in her possess. But I do not by her, vant to be vished a Merry Baldmas*, as she does at zis time of year. But I digress…Ill tidings Fritz. Zat Winsome Putters fellow is ze deputy Prime Minister being of zis annoying country. He is already attacking our useful idiots. Ze moth-eaten vig-arrayed Mouldy Tea Party, ze dishcloth-draped Green fools, ze slow-vitted Herr Chopkins. None of zese has escaped his scathing attention. Our lackey halfvits in ze news media in hysterics are at his attacks upon zem.”
“Most disturbing, sir,” replied Fritz. “One doesn’t like to see one’s tools strewn around in untidy piles and inadequately stored.”
“Nein, vun doesn’t,” growled Klouse. “But zere is vorse, much vorse. Ze airline fellow has allowed zis to happen. He has even laughed, laughed I tell you, at ze discomfort of our friends. And ze Seemore person, who vill be Deputy Prime Minister later has demands made. Zese ones I thought vere in my pockets residing, Fritz. Zey have disappointed me.”
“Perhaps they are playing a long game, sir,” said Fritz hopefully. “Perhaps they will return to your fold soon.”
“Vielleicht! [perhaps], möglicherweise! [possibly],” shouted Klouse. “Zese vords are not for me precise enough. It is certainty I require Fritz. And zere is vorse. Argentina! Italy! Holland! I am besorgt [worried] Fritz. Vhat is happening. I am also vorried about Canada. Vhat if ze apple-eater ousts our asset Trudern? I use ze vord ‘asset’ viz a degree of sarcasm. But zis Pierre fellow scares me. Off us ze vheels seem to be falling, Fritz, and I do not like it.”
In his agitation he leapt to his feet, dislodging Adolf, who naturally dug his claws into Klouse’s legs in order to save himself. Klouse bellowed like a demented bull and collapsed into his chair, but not before aiming a desperate kick at Adolf who was attempting to exit the room, having made several deep furrows in Klouse’s legs. Klouse had temporarily forgotten about his gout. This particular begouted foot, having missed Adolf, made contact with his desk, causing redoubled pain.
“To ze knacker’s yard take Adolf,” shouted Klouse, his face contorted with pain. “And bring me schnapps forzvith, Fritz. Many schnapps N-O-W!”
Fritz scurried to do his master’s will.
*“Merry Baldmas Justinda” December 2020.
