Two very short stories

 by George Asztalos (Romania)

Translation from Romanian by Pat Earnshaw and Simona Daniela Sanda, MTTLC student

pentru versiunea română click aici

Aqua nobilis (a red story)

Back in the time when I was still living in the countryside, at Nadeş (a mixed community of Romanians, Hungarians, Transylvanian Saxons and other ethnic communities,)  in the other world, of course, when everything belonged to everyone and no one, old comrade Hermman, my neighbor, grew giant tomatoes…

He guarded his secret well, and sent his giants together with corresponding examples straight to the Party. This was necessary because productions had to be reported in terms of mammoth per hectare.  „Oncăl Hermman” was a humorous, good-natured fellow.  For that matter, the delicious, nourishing tomatoes were intended only for children “to make your cheeks’ red”, he would say. Parents were circumspect, they would gossip about him enviously. Speaking of secrets, the old man had  shown only us, the kids, a postcard he had received from the Secretary General of the Party, and the shiny medal of First Agriculturalist in Production. News traveled fast in the village and the grown ups with small tomatoes were slowly dying of envy. Actually, they would have done anything to find out his secret. They praised him insincerely, trying to pump the secret out of him, some had tried to bribe him, but it was just no good: stubborn and down-and-out old man as he was, he guarded his secret better than the National Bank….

Only later, after the exodus of the Transylvanian Saxons, did they find out what „Oncăl Hermman” did in order to have such awfully bloated tomatoes: he would water them daily, at 12 o’clock sharp, with water enriched with bird droppings. And tomatoes seemed to go for it big time…What I could hardly understand was how, for God’s sake, that miraculous water had cut a dash within the Party. Although the recipe turned out all right and practical, though not for the exact proportions his tomatoes had achieved, I think old Hermman fooled them all and is still laughing at them there in his heaven with tomatoes as large as a house…

Men is pigs.  Elodia reloaded  

I have always admired the way women turn even the strongest men around their little fingers.  I am talking about the moral issue, tenacity, of course.  Otherwise, you must be very weak-spirited to couple with a masculine monstrosity.  Or you do it just like that…to see what muscles he’s gotten in his pants…

Once a man is trapped in their adorable mousetrap, and if he is still safe and sound, he has got two options left: the strait jacket or the hangover.

As far as women are concerned, it is not about morals, it is just a matter of using their charms. Not in the mirror or shop windows, that’s for sure.

Generally speaking, he is overwrought, long-faced and stressed out.  Most likely, he is easily impressed with just a smile.  Actually, you don’t even need that, given his vanity of irresistible DonJuan.  It is said that a successful man is one who earns more than his wife can spend. Moreover, a successful woman is one who can find such a man…

As a matter of fact, we are dealing with a principle here: be careful what you wish for, because you might get enough of it…

For example, men need to be comforted. Ultimately, I shall comfort them with a story: rumor has it that a guy stabbed his wife (Elodia is a piece of cake) then he boiled her and fed her to the pigs. Naturally, policemen and judges all came together.  And they, again naturally, sheltered the unfortunate in the iron house.  So what?…

Do you think there were any sound survivors after such a sweet misadventure? Not even the pigs. They were slaughtered and eaten by policemen and judges…