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A short introduction to graveyard flowers aka Asphyx tells tales of a dead man…

The whole series of my memories, experiences and stories were developed from impulses by my friends and family. I have been writing about music for a while rather for three years. I am not a critic or a music expert. I just let the albums and concerts work on me and then I try to describe what they do with me. It´s a hard work and nobody is going to pay for it. Although from time to time there is a free album in my mail box, some people pat on my shoulder to say “good job”, there is no money involved and all I receive is “just” a good feeling. The best thing is when someone speak to me and express some kind of a support on the internet or face to face. That is when my fingers type the keyboard even faster. There is one slight problem and that´s time. I have a family, job and I try to do some kind of a sport. Maybe that´s why I´m writing this stories during my vacation when I have more peaceful free time.

                When I was young and was going to pubs I was telling a lot of stories and my friends often told me that I should wrote it down. I was actually not brave enough. I was very careful and didn´t have enough confidence. However, it seems that the time has come. In these days I retrospect and think back on the past for whatever reason. For example I´m sitting in a tram and suddenly there are experienced stories right in front of my face.

                Then after this I walk around the streets as a mental person because there is this big smile on my face and sometimes I feel so emotional I want to cry. I´m meeting my friends form the times in the past when they used to have hair and I´m holding those girls who used to be beautiful like black fairies. It´s time to write this down. Well, I ´m not going to hold off and we are going straight in! There is going to be long tornado of various remarks which will continue. There are going to be stories from the past and sometimes looks to the future. I´m a metal fan who is getting old and I have my grey hair and I´m not going to change for sure. I´m stable with my principles and I might be little crude, boorish or maybe rough. But that´s what the life is and we are not going to lie each other about how rockers are elegant coffee shop vagabonds who eat pink cupcakes.

                Hear those little shatters about the old times when the denim jacket was must-have and the long hair was the expression of a rebel person. It was a great time because we were young and crazy and we didn´t have any worries. I hope you will like the Tales of a dead man. Not everything is going to be true, I didn´t experience everything by myself, however I picked those stories which are interesting for me. Enjoy…

Mr. Asphyx back on the crime scene – the garage is not here anymore so I took a picture of myself next to the volleyball courts.
The first tale – the first encounter with the music full of metal…

“Please cut your hair”: that´s what my grandmother told me and my cousin was smiling like a sun. Then my grandma continued: “You are a student and you are going to a high school next year. And you play sports! If your grandpa saw you he would kill you”. I didn´t answer. I was thinking about different things at that moment. I went outside and there was a cassette of Judas Priest band in my hand. My head was on fire. This whole experience was full of a feel of prohibition.

I went to the garage which was not far from the town. My buddies were already there: “Dude, he has the same hoodie again! Shit, no way!” said someone behind me. It was Prcalík, his father was in Germany at that time and thanks to this he had a leather jacket. He was trotting out with his jacket all the time because my hoodie was an imitation of the Adidas sweatpants hoodie. “Guys, what do you have?” told a person next to the Prcalík. It was Kytka who was like seven times taller than Prcalík. “I have Judas…and this is my cousin, jackasses” proudly said my grandmother’s favorite grandson. I didn´t know what to say so I just beck my head. Guys took out bottles of beer and plug a cassette player from polish province in the neighbor’s plug. And that´s when it happened: “We´ve taken too much for granted. And all the time it had grown…” screamed Rob Halford and we were screaming “Oh my god, dude! That´s amazing! They killing it, right? Massacre! Dude, he´s the MAN!” (Well, we didn´t know at that time that Rob would really enjoy these nice warm words.) I stayed aloof and was thinking to myself: This is music? I don´t get it! This screaming dude and yelling guitars and horrible mess? That´s music?

I hold back my confused face and acted like I totally get it because I wanted to be part of this group. That´s why I was yelling with guys. Someone took out another beer and we played that cassette the whole day and night again and again. I was 13 and the socialism was almost gone in 1988 (and we didn´t care about it at all). This night was the first time I tasted beer, loud music, met these guys which was with me the half of my life and last but not least I had my first hangover. And I only had 4 beers by the brand Klášter which was famous enough at that time. I felt like a man. It didn´t matter that I threw up next to my bed and told my mum it was my dog. I didn´t care about the next day when I had to do some house work outside or do some timber chopping. I just knew that the garage in suburbs there were going to happen some amazing things. And they did. Although I have no idea what kind of music was that band I heard that night it went into my system, deep in my flesh. Since that night the world has been the world of heavy metal for me and it has been metal like Škoda factory´s walls. 

The second tale – The garage: The place when the time stopped.

We spent in that garage long hours. I know what I was doing, I did volleyball and karate nex to the garage on volleyball courts. I was so sweaty when I run up to the garage where my friends had already been. I was always the last one to be there but I was the most excited. Once girls started to come with us and I have no idea who brought them. However I did like one particular girl. Although she liked the Beatles (who were “forbidden” in Boleslav) she also liked Motorhead. Well, she didn´t like the fact that Lemmy was smoking. I didn´t really care much I just liked to look at her. It must be annoying but we were happy together. Unfortunately, this world is a horrible place and once I brought recorded cassette of Led Zeppelin (she loved them too) but she didn´t come. Than we found out that she had been attacked, outraged and killed.

We couldn´t believe it and I was crying by myself on my bed. No, this was not love at that time. However, it was a shock and I had to get it out. This angel called Míša made me found out all of her favorites bands (from 60s and 70s) and listen to the again and again. It took me more than a year to be ok and then I received a letter from an agriculture-engineer high school where they informed me that I was accepted.  Well that was awesome because I had no relationship at all to agriculture (because I had to work all the time around the house) or to engineering so this was not a win-win situation for me. But we were out of a primary school where I had almost only As and were so excited to have 2 months of summer holiday. 

The garage was on the top of the world. We didn´t want to go anywhere just stay in this garage. When I told my parents that all of my friends are on training school or in school they didn´t try to persuade me to travel somewhere in that year. It was an amazing summer and the only black mark on it was the murder of our friend and repeated visit of police officers (it was called The Public Security at that time) who did some interviews with us about the murder. In the end of this case they found out that the murderer was a patient of mental hospital in Komonice not far from Boleslav who had an outing and run away. The reality of a blue-collar city, never ending fights with other gangs and zero interest of people made us really strong and we build an amazing garage oasis in the middle of concrete city. We were bringing cassettes, we knew each other and we were teaching ourselves from older people´s experiences, drunk gallons of beer. We were just enjoying our lives. Amazing times, don´t you think? Well, I had no idea what will happen in the high-school. 

The third tale – Agricultural school

They cut our summer holiday that was a big shock. Two weeks before the end of the primary school we had to fix up some flower patches. The sun was shining and our teacher had to keep eyes on us. Some boy came to me and told me that he was from Vysočina. He had a big long bugger which was hanging from his nose and he put his finger in his mouth and nose multiple times.  I was young and naive and my stomach was very sensitive, so I threw up a few times. Teacher thought that I was avoiding work. I just felt that this is not for me at all and I was right. I found out the moment I went on high school. That was not a high school it was a prison. Outside there was a revolution going on and our teachers were doing this strict communistic regime with boarding, reports, hectoring and other left overs of socialism. This was on until our final exam (1989-1993). It is a long story and I think we could have sued them but I don´t want to go too far in this story. Maybe next time I try to write it down.

There was a students´ strike in Prague and we were in our garage. Thanks to school I didn´t have a lot of a free time, however I did manage to make some time for the music. Amazing time. When someone discovered some new bands we were always in the garage and spent the night talking and arguing. We also had a ritual when someone wanted to enter our group. When you don´t recognize Overkill from the first song, you are not able to be in our group. We did follow our principles and boy it was fun. Sometimes we went to village concerts which was really small dance parties with good band (sometimes) and local metal fans would always remember our visits. It´s fascinating to hear or read our stories told by people who didn´t even be there. For example there was a legend about me and a stolen train. Well my father didn´t want to borrow me his car so I stole a train. Well I travelled by train by the asshole called Prcalík made up this story which was total bullshit and it was idiotic. I think you realize how crazy we were.

The latest trends in “ragged fashion”, thrashers, fans of heavy metal and other music types made a regiment which seemed like legendary Vagabonds. Local village people were angry about us a there was a lot of fights in that times. No we were not angry or aggressive but our looks were provocative. And there is no way to solve problems in a good way without fists when the rivals talked bad about “your girls”. If it was today the person would have a lot of problem on internet discussions, however in that times you just fight and that was it. The world was ours and the speed was the winner. Well and now it was the time to host our first concert in Mladá Boleslav. Hey and we thought that we should have a band so there was at least someone who could play on that concert. 


The fourth tale – my very first metal concert

I had the Circus of Power T-shirt with a clown – a skeleton in a target. What a legendary T-Shirt which made me famous by everyone. My father bought it in Germany. I had no idea what band is it. I told everyone that the music is so sick and I was really mysterious about it. After many years I put the name in Google and search for this band and I found out that it is a stupid glam metal from Germany, ugh. At that time, you can only wear metal clothes at home or outside, it was forbidden in schools. Girls from nursery school could wear what they want, so there was a lot of funny situations – me standing in front of a girl who was wearing a Metallica T-Shirt during the gym classes. And me? Wearing a stupid red shorts and white vest during the volleyball matches. There was even some kind of a resistance from the girls when they were telling us a band names, saying something about gays in white and just support us. Eventually this friendship and common rebellion crystallized into a beautiful idea of organizing a concert. 

The very first one was in the garage with like 15 people. We invited an unknown band with a day-fly life Big Foot – I played base there.  We thought that it was heavy metal mixed with trash but it was more like a punk. The response match the composition of friends. It was great and there was so much beer we were not able to drink it. My friend´s father brought a piglet. We felt like such artists in your town. But we were thinking about something bigger, something what people would not forget.

Our friend Kytka´s grandmother was a janitor at a local community centre. We went there to the residential area, wearing tuxedos and shirts. People normally banish us from there. But the clothes make the man and I was capable of talking. So the old, respectable lady agreed. We just had to clean up everything afterwards. Obviously, we swore on our honour and conscience.

There were 3 bands playing. We had of course already disbanded for like a tenth time and the only one who played drums was Prcalik and he was upset. So we did not play. I was trying to put some band names together with a few survivors from that era. But I would rather not name specifically because the arguments were crazy. Anyway, we were so excited about the D day – we were standing right in front of our dream. We killed a pig, bought some beer kegs and we invited groups which we would normally rather beaten. Our friend´s grandmother took a rocking chair on a runboard and she almost fell down.

Why? Well, the first band´s signer tried to be interesting and he decided to poop on the stage. He succeeded and the rabble down was having fun. Oh my God! Then the Hell started. Within about a minute nobody knew who is a visitor and who is a musician. They played for just an hour and a half – until a very benevolent police came who needed to fix their reputation after the interventions on the Národní třída. It didn´t help to say that we were just having fun or that we will turn the music down. Perhaps they had a problem with the torn up parquet flooring, burning table and chewed (yes, chewed – that is in the protocol) curtains.

So our first concert was legendary, however it never happened again. Instead, we didn´t organize anything after that and just to make sure we started to go on concerts in Prague and Liberec. The interesting thing is that the beautiful woman, our friend´s grandmother never blamed us on anything. Even after years she talked to us and she said that she finally experienced something special just like between the world wars. She was just bewildered that there was no cocaine on the concert. I was even at hers funeral and until today when I go close to the Culture House in Mladá Boleslav, I have a big smile on my face.

The fifth tale – Meeting the Slayer…

Me, SLAYER and time. (Originally written for Fobiazine)

It´s November 1988 A.D. I have just celebrated my 13th birthday and I and my best friend are leaving school, walking on the tracks. The whole day seemed so mysterious like a Carpathians Castle. “Hey, Kuba, dude I have a present for you”: said between his teeth, spat and cleared his throat after mutating. I was confused and embarrassed because guys don´t give gifts to each other, don´t they? It seemed like he was trying to show off with something. He pulled out a package wrapped in Dikobraz and I began to unwrap. “Dude, this is going to be good, it has a skull on it!”: I said knowingly and slapped him on his shoulder, like a man. His denim jacket was way more faded than mine was which I was very jealous of. When my denim jacket started to look old and great, my mother always throw it away. On the tape there was a sign shining “South of Heaven”.

This friend had no idea how much he had changed my life. As a kids we were secretly going to our friend´s garage to listen all the accessible tapes from Poland on the “twin” recorder. There was just one condition. The tape had to have a skull, blood or something on its cover! The SLAYER records were bought automatically, we recorded it and who had the original was admired by all of us. At school, you had to say “hi” by screaming “Slayeeeeeerrrr” with a devil horns on your hands. Every weekend the five of us took a bottle of wine with a scary name Sklepmistr (“Cellarman”) which was disgusting and even now my tongue tingles. And we were screaming lyrics of the immortal songs into the deep night. And there was a lot of them. Beautiful times, youth, man full of energy…memories.

Unfortunately, I had to wait for 22 years to hear SLAYER live. There was something which didn´t let me go – money, time, etc. And in 2010 my dream came true on Sonisphere festival in Milovice. The guys were a little bit tired, the age changed them but for me they were gods. I didn´t care about Metallica at all that night. Slayer smashed me and I was hacked and pressed against the railing and I was gasping for every single word they sang. I have perceived the last albums from a distance but I have the complete discography. In the morning (05/03/2013) I came into my office and it was a shock for me. Jeff Hanneman died. You may say that this is just music, however for us who lived at that time that felt like someone in your family died. I am not the one who have posters of his favourite bands in his room and I also don´t made my favourite bands gods and pray to them. Although after that I had to take out all of their CDs and play them until I went crazy. I had some beers of course. The only thing I was thinking of was: “Shit, thank you guys, it was great, thank you Slayer!” The question is what happens next?

The day Jeff died I had no idea what will happen next. Today after a publishing of the new album by Slayer we know…we already know what the new album will be (the review is here). It is not the same without Hanneman and not just because of the memories. And it will probably never be the same.

The sixth tale – tapes the crumpling bitches; CDs the flat disks

Well, yeah I am an old man. I found some leftover tapes which were crumble since I was young at my mom´s. I wrote a whole tale about it but I forgot the most important thing. How I exactly get those treasures. It was unreal what you had to do to get those tapes. We have a cottage in Jizerské Mountains so I had to do that. We were going to Jelenie Gora. Women went there for clothes, me for tapes. The Polish were bitches, they cut our tapes so after a few years I found out that there were songs missing on tapes, or the songs were shorter. These events had a repercussions on the black market of Mladá Boleslav. Not that I would made money from it, I´m too much a chicken and I honour the rules and laws. But I was not able to help myself and went there when I needed something. Since then I have a lot of CDs, vinyl and tapes which are unable to find nowadays. It was not banned and prosecuted like in the days of our fathers´. I know it just from stories. Even during the coup it was tolerated as a free entrepreneurship but it was not exactly legal. I was going to Poland by bus, leaving in the morning and many times I had a fight with other maniacs by the booth. I have a good physical proportion and at that time I had a high belt in karate so it was not a big problem for me, however there were some times when I was really sweating. Although the effort and the bargains were worth it.

Everything changed when I met Croat. A young boy, a lover of Megadeth whose whole family was bombed. He escaped in some programme of help in the Czech Republic. And because he was a true longhair man he somehow automatically joined us. He drank well and he actually spoke Czech better than we did so after a while we had some kind of a brotherhood through blood. We hummed him into opening a shop for a long time until he finally did it. He opened a shop selling music records and he was looking for CDs for us all the time. Although I pay more than one of my summer payment (60days of work = two CDs), I remember every piece, every story with each record in my head which I wish never vanish. Croat had some relatives in the USA and some records went from there for a half of a year. However the joy of a new record was unbelievable. I think about this guy a lot but I have no idea where he is right now. Stories of survivors say that he went back to Croatia. Someone told me something about a suicide but nothing has been proved. Therefore, if you are somewhere you frizzy bastard, please contact me. Do you remember me sleeping in front of your shop so I could be the first to have the new Metallica CD. You were too fair and didn´t save it for me, I had to wait outside.

The seventh tale – The vinyl madness

The most of the vinyl I have was inherited. Or I bought them when everyone was selling them. I took them to the cottage and that is where I organize listening events in Jizerské Mountains. There is a forest rustling outside, cats fucking in the distance and stoves are smelling everywhere. There is nothing better than sitting in the chair, stretching my feet in height which makes my varices feel better and I make everything go away. Suddenly, the world seems cleaner. And I am not like a fan of vinyl records. I understand the madness, I have seen it for myself, but I truckle to it only in the mountains. That is when I become nostalgic like an old lady, when I turn the record on the other side carefully and when I constantly correcting the phonograph. There was a guy, originally a lift operator, who always came to do this. He was drooling, ate everything we had and the he disjoint and make the phonograph out again. But he died so I have to do this job.

The best thing is when there is steam coming from my mouth so I have to light a fire in the stove. I like the coldness and the old records. It belong together just like mustiness established in all corners of this more than a hundred years old cottage. I am smiling and ignoring my wife screaming something about me being frozen, being an old madman and why I go reading upstairs. It just fits into one piece. I can enjoy music in mp3 player but in here it is different. Strange. Fulfilling. Personal. I will probably never be a maniac seeking bazars for rare pieces. I will never expand my collection. But I will always go back to this time capsule. There are some things which are not meant to be changed. So I hope when I go back, open all the windows and let the cold inside, everything will be as it was before.

The eight tale – Going to Megadeth, you bitches!

Prcalík is coming for me so fast that he would killed me. I am walking outside with my dog during the nice fall of 1994. “Dude, there will be Megadeth in Prague!”: he screams into my face. “Great, we are going”: was my answer. Well, there were some hooks. The ticket was so expensive I have to earn the money for a few months during weekends as a brigade-worker. Tired as hell I was listening to their music after work and I was praying so I would go. Prcalík´s father was in Germany so he was OK. Some of our friends worked already or were on training school and had some earning. My parents didn´t want to hear about metal support so I have to earn money by myself.

Finally, the April 5th 1995 came and I put my money in my pocket and I was not even able to fall asleep.

We went by train and met down by the train station in Boleslav. The “slow train” went to Prague and some of us were already drunk by the Všetaty station. Although all of us made it into the capital city, some weaker guys fell off. The train was full, there were longhair men and greasy hair everywhere. Cans were not so popular at that time so there was a lot of jingling of bottles with beer. As the biggest geeks and rednecks we had a recorder and while the songs like Hangar 18 was playing the whole train was screaming as hell. God, just the trip was hard-core. The colleague Prcalík was creaming from the window “We are going to Megadeth, you bitches!” which made some potential passengers hesitate to hop on the train.
At the train station in Prague were like 5 guys who had a fight. The reason was clear. Someone hated Mustain, someone hated Metallica. At that time I liked both bands so being the “big strong ass” I scattered the fight. In front of the sports hall were police officers on horses, next to that were a few German fans vandalizing the racetrack with such enthusiasm. Some of our girls fell on the ground so thanks to helping them all the time I went into the hall relatively late (thanks to that I didn´t hear CORROSION OF CONFORMITY). Trampled with almost fifth smashed glasses. Uff. One of the glass was stacked in my shoulder. Then it happened.

I “draw” the whole concert. The Megadeth gentlemen were on their peak with a full force. Mustain looked like an alien but his riffs were sharp as razors. Someone puked on my back, other one spilled beer on my sneakers. My at that time “best friend” fainted from enthusiasm and me being smelly and tired tried to wake her up. What an inferno. To this day I have no idea how I survive. I had to buy T-Shirt by Megadeth and wore if for a long time as a sacrament.

We drank in Prague in non-stop bars till the morning, till the first train. We just went somewhere and after an hour they kicked us out. So we went to other bar. We were stopped a few times by police and maybe just for my talking and look of “metal intellectual” we were not arrest. Finally the train went to home and if I didn´t have to call the train stations and search for my partners I could breath. That was the time I fulfilled my dream. I enjoyed it and I have so much experiences. It was amazing and a really nice girl was looking at me. But that is another story.

“You are a creature and you like corpses!” That is why my teacher told me in high school. I was defending my T-shirt of the “new” album by CANNIBAL CORPSE (the autopsy one from Butchered at Birth) but for nothing. “Tomorrow, I don´t want to see it on you!”: argued the nice lady who had been divorced twice, had a tic and who were saying about us that we are morons. I am thinking that it is probably useless to try to explain that I received this T-Shirt by multiple exchange and I took it in the morning just by mistake. We stayed in the garage with the guys till the night and talked about albums. So in the morning I just didn´t have time to change. Then I got stuck. No, people cannot deal with me in a hard way. That does nothing for me.

“Well, that is your choice” is how my nice teacher welcomes me the next day right at the door. “Since today you will be tested from subjects every class and in the afternoon go to the workshop”: she said sweetly. I nodded my head and thought “fuck it”. This week I slept just for a few hours. My young body was OK with it and I went to the garage all the time to suck up more and more trash information from my friends. Prcalík brought a friend who rode with his father to work in Germany and he was telling us how people in Germany deal with music. We were amazed with his stories and he was pretty happy about that. He was an asshole but he brought us tapes which was important. The revolution around us was slowly changing into a savage capitalism. We didn´t care. We enjoyed the freedom and boom of so many new stuff, music channel and magazines so much. Well, I have it with limits and warnings because our famous School of Agriculture held the socialistic orders long after the coup.

I hang on. I was strong and used to work in fields, forests and gardens. I was almost unflappable. Even the headmaster of our school appreciated that I stand behind my opinions. So the ordinary T-Shirt with the legendary cover was my first “real” rebellious act in my life. I took responsibilities for my actions, I defied the authority outside of my family. I had a great support, a few metal fans had a class next to me and guys from the garage made a celebration in my honour. I was like a hero. Having glasses, was tall and skinny with a T-Shirt of CANNIBAL CORPSE which was so big for me that it was flapping on my like a flag on a pole. Even the chesty goddess Jana which was secretly loved by all of us said something about me being real great. Who cares that I spent so much time studying so I succeed in useless tests, who cares that I was cleaning the whole workshop after classes till the evening. They didn´t get me.

After the fall of the first rebellion wave I wore the T-Shirt only for ceremonial occasions. It was a piece of clothing which had its own story, what at amazing artefact, what a rarity. For someone it would be just a piece of clothing but for me? I respected it as anything. It was a symbol for me.

From time to time I see the old teacher, only when I visit my hometown. I always wave at her and say hello politely. And she always looks on my chest. She instinctively somehow expect to see some signs on my T-Shirt. I try not to disappoint her. We smile at each other and go our own ways.

The tenth tale – Could you record this for me?

“Hey Kuba, you got the new Slayer?”: Kytka is asking me and I am thinking what to tell him. I don´t and I hate the fact that I don´t. My friend from the other classroom promised me to find it for me but he didn´t. It was said that some boy from gas factory has it and not only this album. You just go there with a tape and ring the bell. “Oh and don´t forget a beer”: adds my classmate. So in the evening I am preparing for the big action. I am returning my father´s empty bottles to the Družstevník store, I take some change and I buy one bottle of Klášter Beer 10°. I take my Liberta bicycle which is cool with its triple circle in the back and gears. I am the king of roads and pavements. 

I arrived in the evening, I am looking for the name on the ring with my paper where the name is written. I am distracted and I breathe heavily. Since I was never here before I am quite nervous. The doors opened. “What the fuck?”: screams someone behind the oak door. Sabaťák goes out (we called him that but I have no idea what was his real name). “Yeah, dude that´s you!”: said Sabaťák. He appreciates my presence and he let me in. “Kytka told me you need the new Slayer!”: he continues. “Yeah, if I may sir.”: I answer. Sabaťák´s face brightens. “You are as decent as my old father”: he is laughing into my face. We immediately click.

At that time he was probably thirty so for us he felt like an old man who started on the old BLACK SABBATH. He had a big apparatus, worked as a guard in the gas factory and his kingdom was something amazing. A huge collection of vinyl, tapes and even CDs. He lived by music. And beer. He drank my beer at one swallow, offered me one of his own (Podkováň) and we sat in chairs. We drank for a while, talked and I felt like a small boy. Not that I was not, I was. “Well, let´s see what you brought for me”: he asked after an hour. “Well, TDK, that is a good tape…so wait a minute”.

He was moving a system of things, recorders, speakers, cables and everything started to turn. I felt like being trapped in a book by Jules Verne. I was barely breathing. We were silent for like 45minutes and I was religiously afraid to go on a toilet. The “Season in the Abyss” track was being fired on my tape. I will never forget this. I don´t know if me and Sabaťák were friend but we told each other things only friends share, so I guess we were friends.

The gas factory was the other point of getting music information for me. I was going there for a long time after that. There were so many new things, information and old stories. We even traded with this assortment because Sabaťák had a copy talent which we didn´t know. So in the evenings when we were studying he was drawing tape covers.

The whole thing had a huge charm. When arriving in Sabaťák´s kingdom you had to go down by stairs, there was water tapping down the walls and next to this was a rehearsal room. It belonged to a very famous band in the future (I will tell you in other article). The cellar of gas factory was like an underground culture centre. But everything was financed by visitors themselves. I remember how fascinated I was by the fact that there was beer everywhere. There were bottles on the windowsills, hallways, between books, records. Every time I rang the door I told to myself that I am entering into a bottle kingdom.

Other metal figure of my metal youth ended sadly (just like many others) and ingloriously. From my friend´s stories I have heard that this Renaissance man didn´t handle it and was kicked out by a new owner of the factory. And he drank himself to death. They took the most important things he owned. He was not able to fit all of his music machines into the new small apartment. So he was alone with alcohol. So this time I want to dedicate this Dead Man Tale to the persona of the old Boleslav underground. Thank you Sabaťák, I am grateful for what I experienced thanks to you!

The eleventh tale – The Pub by an Oak

I developed a fairly positive attitude to beer in the garage. At that time it was somehow normal and automatic to drink a beer. We had two favourite beer brands. Being the real Boleslav patriots we preferred Klášter Hradiště and Podkováň. It used to be a good beer, we liked it but the bottles were not enough for us after a while. So someone thought that we should go to a pub. “Yeah, but some of us can´t drink because of the age”: added his thoughts Kytka into this passionate debate. And we all knew he was right. Althought we had Prcalík, the one who always had an idea in his sleeve. “Let´s go to the Pub by an Oak. There are only long hair dudes drinking and the bartender doesn´t give a shit about how old customers are”. What a great idea. We went the next day.

“Hello”: we greeted shyly right at the entrance of this joint full of smoke. “Heyyyy, what do you want?”: said Kája – probably the biggest guy I had ever seen. “Lemonade, draught”: I said cautiously due to my age. “Shut up, you are having beer”: replied the bartender and put a dewy class of beer in front of me. Oh my freaking god it was so good! Finally a draught beer! The guys were slowly coming inside and they sat in the corner next to me. The situation was repeating and suddenly the table was full of young boys who had patches on their denim jackets with SLYER, METALLICA, MEGADETH, KREATOR, SODOM and had a long hair. The local regular drinkers paid a good attention since they thought we were a vanguard. In the evening there were always old long hair dudes, guys who were a little bit smarter and knew what they like. They listened to DEEP PURPLE, BLACK SABBATH, PINK FLOYD, LED ZEPPELIN, THE WHO. For us, they were just old guys with the same music taste.

After a few nights of becoming to know each other, several fights about if the BEATLES were or were not a shitty band and after a few broken tables we finally created (instinctively) a weird rock group. Almost everyone, except from some local old men who lived in the town, was the metal or hard music elite. When I think about how much information, band, stories and destinies I heard and saw in that pub I could wrote a book about it. Sometimes it was accompanied with the old demon alcohol however overall it was just a light drinking. There was no TV in the pub, only a jukebox and one old and always broken fan.

Each person had his own place to sit, own voice and sharp elbows which he used to show his power with bringing the tapes and showing his music knowledge. I was the prized one because I always brought everything the guys wished for from Poland. From time to time those nice music debates degenerated into endless bitching and fighting. Sometimes there were some macho gestures. But for us, the trash metal fans, this was the other place to meet. Who was not in the garage or in the gas factory was in the pub by an Oak, for sure. That was how the nasty blue-collar pub, which was visited just by people who wanted to spent their money so they could survive their hard jobs and (sometimes) their own inability, has its own genius loci. We, the young buccaneers, had educated the old moustache rockers some new band and in reverse they told us stories about looking for LPs, who fled across the borders and where can you get stuff. At that time it was priceless.

The pub was situated on a hill next to the Square of Peace. We went there from the settlement on bikes. I still remember the falls we did going down to home. There was an asphalt road which was straight and fairly sharp. There were tracks down and a crossing which was bordered by a railing. Almost every time there was someone who hit the metal rods which were dangerously open to the air. I saw so many broken faces, destroyed bikes and dangerous falls. Then, they closed up our metal oasis and made it into a clothes boutique for slightly feminine men. So we had to move our group to the next pub – Hymrovi. It never was the same. The harmony between the old and young rocker world fell apart. It felt like someone tore the invisible net woven of carefully constructed and drank relationships.

I still meet some of the former figures. Some of them caught the wave of democracy and entrepreneurship and they are traders till this day. Some of them recorded some achievements in their fields, or live a quiet life of aging individuals. Although there are some strong, racy and sharp ones who stayed. But they didn´t do very well. Just recently I saw one: “Dude, Kuba, what are you doing here? I thought you are under the ground already!” he was rushing to me. “Do you want a drink?”: he said with an homeless man visage which scared my son. I refused with thanks. “Who was that, dad?”: asked my son after a while. “That was Máťa, he taught me to listen to LED ZEPPELIN, you know?”: I reply. Suddenly, I was very sad.

My son´s question about what is the LED ZEPPELIN was behind me and I didn´t even perceive it. My thoughts headed towards the once famous underground pub by an Oak. We rather went further into the city.

The twelfth tale – The cottage goulash and the Jablonec´s sage or metal even lives on the mountains

Right against me sits the tattooed monster. It has like a one hundred and fifty kilos and when it smiles my transparent fins trembled with fear. “Where are you from?” bumbled it in front of me. “From Boleslav”: I add a little more volume to my voice so I looked like a hero because my girlfriend was there. Unfortunately, my voice skipped and my Metallica T-shirt is wet of sweat. I took my new girlfriend to our cottage and I thought it was going to be fun. “I quod there too”: added the monster and sat to our table. “Hey, what a pretty girl. I haven´t fuck for a long time”: he said and I was shocked. For a while there was some survival instinct inside of me and then I just sent the giant monster to fuck himself. Although my karate self-defence was perfect he got up and hit me so hard I blacked out for a moment.

When I woke up this mountain of flesh, muscles and tattoos was standing right above me with a class of beer. He was handing the beer to me and said: “Sorry, I haven´t punched anyone for a while”. I was rubbing my face as hard as I could. “Let´s drink”: said the freshly released prisoner. He got up and we followed him like a sheep for a slaughter. That evening was full of arguments, escape attempts, several fights, one threshed pub and an endless spree. Aleš actually killed a man during one fight but he was quite dovish nature (when he was not drinking). Mysteriously he knew every bartender in the Jizerské Mountains. He made us go next to the main bus station. “Now you will see the best company”: he was laughing and hugging some girls. Round the table there was a several long hair men in this endlessly smelly pub. One of them got up and shook my hand with a question: “Do you know V.A.R?” I breathed in the smoked air and answered yes. Right in front of me was the guru of the whole Jablonec nad Nisou and the surrounding areas who was called Maňas.  Long hair, greasy coat, an incredible amount of knowledge of the underground.

For a moment he was trying to be cool by saying that he had been a dissident. However, everyone had started to mess with him so he stopped. The advantage was that thanks to him the monster left us. My girlfriend was not happy about Maňas but at least she was not afraid of him. So we were drinking and when there were the first signs of morning Maňas told us to sleep in his place. He led us to his beautiful cottage and opened a twelve year old whiskey. He spread some old battered LPs on the floor. He lit a cigarette and started to talk. He told us stories about where he got which record, how much was it. And he told us he was glad he found some soul mates. Then he cooked a goulash which smelled so nice around the whole building. Andrea, my girlfriend fell asleep leaning on my arm and I was trying to catch the most of the words and atmosphere which was around me. We ate the goulash, each of us added his own music passion and this old man was immediately a great fountain, teacher, someone to whom I was able to look up to.

At that time I was really into a different philosophical theories, I studied religion and now I had suddenly found my humanist guru. We talked for almost a week, listened to music and I found out that Maňas worked in Prague in some research centre. But his son died and his world crashed. So he was going to pubs and drank and he became his own shadow. That was the time when these kind of people were sticking to me and today I am glad they were. Life is not always beautiful and colourful of nice shades. Since then I really appreciate ordinary people and every moment and breathe is a big rarity for me. The interesting thing is that this drunk-mountains-philosophical meeting was very important for me whole life direction. Maňas gave me an impulse and filled me with something and I started to read more books, discussing about philosophy and live at all.

He was already old at that time and now he is dead. Once I walked around the Jablonec´s cemetery and watered flowers on my relatives´ graves. And suddenly I saw his name. It was shining on the tombstone just like his eyes did when he talked about his favourite music.

The thirteenth tale – The Panel Blues

I am getting like the fifteenth punch in my face. I am getting up again and again, my mouth is bleeding. Despite that I am smiling. There is no point in defending against the odds. This is just about getting out with as less injuries as possible. Believe me, these are the words of the old bullies. “Say Metallica is better than Slayer”: screams some cheeky little guy from the group we hated. We were from the settlement, growing up around concrete and working class and they were from the city. That was a difficult day for me. I came home after they were bored of beating me and I was tired as a horse. My young body was dotted with bruises and I had a black eye like a plum. The first person I saw the next day was Prcalík. “The bitches from the city met you, right?”: he immediately estimated the situation and I was almost not able to reply. My face hurt and it is swollen and I thought to myself never miss any karate lesson any more.  

We went to the Radouč which is the protected landscape area (a former airport) where two piles of littered panels were. We went there to walk our dogs. There is someone smoking under the small oak. It is Kytka. “Dude, you look horrible”: he said. I am laughing: “I slipped in the bathroom.” “But they didn´t convince me – Slayer is clearly better” which was an absolutely stupid sentence for me. I don´t even know who came up with this bullshit. I would guess Říman, he was a freak. A guy with a rich father, a packed wallet and unreal ego. On the favoured high school he even tried to bully one of our friends. But he got beaten and let it go. Until now. And I just had to meet to them and I had to talk shit and I had to wear the Slayer T-Shirt. That is what I was thinking at that moment.

“Right, slipped in the bathroom. The same thing said my neighbour and then we find out that she was being beaten by her husband every evening”: said Kytka. I remember that it was the worse after paydays. Workers went always from work to the pub, get drunk and after that there was only screaming the whole night. The streets were full of despair and crying of tired women. Children´s eyes, crawled under beds, small hands with nails staunched in the palms. How many of these friends I had. It was clear we liked the extreme music and we fight all the time. Life was not easy for us. “Put a dog´s fat on it, it helps”: said Kytka trying to remember who had recently put a dog down. Everybody liked animals more than people.

“The worst thing is that they tore my Slayer T-Shirt, assholes”: I objected. “Fuck it, Jana will sow it for you”: said Prcalík who apparently were going out with her or just sleeping with her. I took of my favourite piece of clothing and began to shiver from cold. Jana finished her cigarette, put a stitching set from her denim vest´s pocket and began to darn the big ass hole. “What a woman, huh?”: Prcalík smacked her on her butt and we nodded our heads. Kytka and others began to plan the revenge. But we always only talked about it, never done it. Well, we grow up with Vinnetou movies.  We wanted to save the world. We always tried to fight “fair”. If someone kicked a person lying on the ground he would be an asshole and we would expelled him from the group. There was no scratching or biting unless you would be a pussy. When I think about it now I feel we were like “denim” knights. And nowadays we would survive just for five minutes.

Always around the fall when the fog was over the meadow behind the last asphalt and I was pushing my dog outside to the cold weather, that was when the panels had the greatest charm. The grey and white colour was so powerful like this. Just like the garage and the pub by an Oak. These were the places which felt like home. Nobody was screaming at us, nobody wants anything from us and we had a plenty of time to talk. We might have looked like doing nothing but for example Kytka went to the panels to read. He had a big bundles of long novels. He sat, smoked and he was in his own world. There was always someone arguing at his home.

The both groups had somehow intermingled. A guy started to date a girl, she had a brother and they all liked trash metal. In the end there were a few fights with Říman and I won only the twentieth fight. But at that time I healed easily and wounds were not important, so it was ok. He was older and I beaten him right before he went to the army. Then it was cool. Guys from the city with their Metallica clothes was going with us between the panels and suddenly everything was mixed and our group had like fifty people. Which was a lot.

The asphalt kingdom was full of people in denim vests. Saying hello with upturned devil horns and scream “Metal!!!!”. Music was everything for us. The rebellion, resistance against authority, rest, sealant. Everyone went behind the city, to the panels. There they were. Someone put a tape recorder on the upper part of a socialists material and there was the “Ride the Lighting” playing. “It cuts, doesn´t it?”: said Prcalík into the fog and exhaled a huge cloud of smoke which only he was able to do. I sat next to him looking on the Mladá Boleslav which was covered in some weird grey colour. Suddenly, I felt amazingly great.

The fourteenth tale – A graceful Ride

 “Are we going?”: asked me Kytka on Friday around the year 1990 on the way to school. He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette and I thought where the cancer from those cigarettes was? Everyone was talking about lungs cancer so where it was? If I knew how will he end I would probably cut his arm off. “We are going”: I replied and we both knew what we were talking about. Similar questions are falling all day long. Close to Mladá Boleslav in Mnichovo Hradiště there was a concert of Debustrol in the cultural house. I had been listening the tape Vyzvání Smrti for a two years and it is absolutely everything for me. Even during the gym classes we all pretended the digging the grave movements and we all knew it was the night song of this record. It was like a secret code. I was so excited of the end of the school that day. I told my parents we had something for school to do. They went to the cottage anyway. We meet at a heat exchanger next to the agriculture school. “So, at five on the station, right?”: assured us Kytka and everyone´s eyes were shining.

One of the first graceful ride began. Our net bags tinkled with the bottles of beer while we were walking to the station. Prcalík is screaming: “Protestaiooon, protestatiooon…!”. The mood was great and the desire to party was huge. The girls were pretty, the train was full. Although during the journey some weak person threw up on the bathroom door, the guard was young and tolerant. He wished us a great concert and asked if it was folk. “Yeah, something like Brontosauři (Czech folk band)”: said goodbye Kytka. He was smiling when he fell down the small stairs right on the rails. We were in the Mnichovo Hradiště. The world was ours. We met local metal fans who leaded us next to the square to a pub. We had to sit on chairs which were brought from some kitchen. It was full. Alcohol sounded everywhere. Over glasses of beer floated reflections of long hair. The expectation, the great joy that we were about to experience the real concert, everything of this was in the air and felt almost touchable. I got a goose bumps. It was eight o´clock and everyone stood up like a one man and payed. And the denim cavalry headed towards the cultural house.

We looked like a parade of misfits. Like the Crusaders returning from the fights in the east, like the blue river, roaring, hawking and screaming tough words. All of us were a though guys from the outside but in the inside we had the dovish natures with adrenaline pumping inside of us. We went for it: “Protestatiooon!” We almost disproved the door to the building. There were queues forming at the beer station and there was V.A.R playing on the stage. When the hit “Vrahova zpověď” began to play the whole hall sang. I ran in the middle and left the girls in the queue. That was our song! Prcalík was small so he jumped on my back and me and guys were throwing him into the air. “Shiiiiit, shiiiiit, shiiiiiit….”: screamed that little man and I was happy for him. I had been a long time since I had seen him so happy. His parents were getting through their divorce and he took it very personal. He felt down on the floor but we raised him. Everything was turning around and suddenly it was quiet. The power failure. People screamed insults, laughter and jokes. Someone finally kicked the aggregate and gentlemen on the stage played a few songs in that unreal craziness.

“Hey dude, be careful about her!”: said Kytka. I was looking the direction he showed me. There was Markéta the very affectionate friend of mine who were trying to cut her veins with a piece of glass from a broken glass of beer. Nobody understood these tendencies she had. Beautiful girl, nice, happy family, educated and smart. Only when she got drunk she wanted to cut herself. I caught her by the hands, raised her in the air and this young girl who looked like a baby doll was being taken outside on the air. After a few sentences, one fine slap and rinse of water towards her face she had again the brightness in her eyes and the desire to live. Hopefully it was going to last for a while I thought. And we went back to the concert hall. There was DEBUSTROL destroying the whole hall on the stage. They were actually pretty successful with that. However, that was nothing – just until we started. We, the orthodox fans.

“Look dude, I saw that in some music video”: screamed Prcalík right into my ear. He climbed on the stage and jumped between the people. He flied for a long time in the air and everyone was watching him. He felt right on his head and lay there. “Oh my god”: said Markéta behind me and she went to the side. “Shit”: I said to myself and I raise Prcalík on his feet. “Good?”: I asked. “Yeah, hey dude seriously take care of her”: tried to tell me my felt down friend. My girlfriend was sitting next to the speaker and tried to end everything again. I was quite pissed off. I came for music not to be a medic, right? I took Prcalík in one hand and Markéta in the other and went outside with them. I left them there while they were building a new relationship between them.

Praclík inspired a lot of fans and now there were flying in the air more than being on the ground. The hall was so full, someone ripped curtains, there were parquets flying around and everything was culminating in a frantic end. Suddenly I stood in the middle of the audience, there were drunk figures around me and I was standing on glass pieces. I wore combat boots, crawling to the bar where bartender told me it was over. I caught the boy behind the bar and screamed into his face that I deserved a beer today. His friends took me and threw me out. I remember the fall through the glass door. I flied, then glass pieces and finally my glasses. We all fell down on the grass on the cigarette butts, spits and dirt. This was going to take a while to process I thought to myself a lay there.

“Who we have here pretending to be asleep?”: said someone above me and Prcalík tried to treat me. He found a real (drunk) medic and he took off his head gauze. He didn´t do it very well so we looked for Markéta. We found her and she was thanking us, saying that she loved us, that we had again saved her life and I was bleeding. In the end, everything was OK and we all went to the train station. The train left of course. We went to the waiting hall on the station. The station prior was convinced by our girls to let the hall open through the night. I fell asleep on the ground and woke up at home in Boleslav. I went through the door where my mother was standing. She checked my hands and asked if I was doing drugs. She just had watched the morning news and there was something about drugs. I sat in the shower and fainted.

Taken to the hospital, examined by professionals, put into the bed. I spent the whole weekend at home. Sometimes there is Kytka under my windows, making gestures to make me go out, but I wanted to be a good boy this time. I played Vyznání smrti by DEBUSTROL again and again and I was looking forward to see everyone on Monday at school to talk about it.

The fifteenth tale – The Disco assholes

“They are just buttheads”: screamed Praclík into my ears. We were sitting in Semčice which is next to Mladá Boleslav, there was a party happening. On a stage just had ended its performance some kind of a crazy disco-Depeche Mode-Abba-country band which made us crazy. The local hens collapsed around the musicians and touched their elastic pants. Normally we had nothing to do there but Prcalík´s potential girlfriend invited us. She said she liked music and Metallica. So we went. Kytka went to get a beer, when he came back he said that like 10 guys told him that they were going to smash him up. Nobody knew why. Since I grew up in a cottage in the Jizerské Mountains in a village I began to explain everyone their behaviour. Because these guys were feeling threaten they reacted automatically by beating the person they didn´t know. I think there also worked the fear of unknown because let´s face it we were really nice guys.

I looked relatively good. I had a simple black T-Shirt, jeans and denim vest. Prcalík on the other hand was getting through his punk era and looked very scary. At least at that time. Kytka was listening black and his upside down cross made local old ladies scared since we showed up at the square. One of them even crossed herself. But maybe it was not about his look. It might have been because of what he said in front of the church: “Fee-faw-fum, I´ll take you to the Hell”. Everything of this happened because of Prcalík´s sexual appetite. He made us go just like some door to door seller with faith. He just wanted that girl and we were supposed to be some king of an escort. I took another beer and went to the scared DJ to tell him to stop playing Michal David and to play something normal. He refused and told me to go fuck myself. And after that everyone started to drinking cola again. I thought I was going to die that night. Horrible.

So I went outside and accidentally overhead a conversation of six guys who were preparing to beat us. I had no idea why but I was quite scared. There was a lot of them and only three of us. So I went to tell my friends. Kytka was already prepared to run to the forest and hide but Praclík was pissed. He went in the middle of the hall, threw his cup at the DJ and yelled that everyone are bitches. And then he stood behind me. What a demolishing fight. It looked like Josef Lada´s paintings of pub fights. I think I was going to die that night but thankfully I had the grounding in self-defence and I took off my glasses. I vaguely remember how shocked me that I was so quickly in the air and right after was someone stomping on my head. We left the pub like birds from nest. The fall on the asphalt was hard. From the corner of my eye I saw Prcalík. He stood up to go back into the pub just like an arrogant dog. I took all my energy and stood up, knelt on my friend´s chest and tried to calm him down. The blood dripping from my nose was everywhere around Prcalík.

So we sat in front of a store and waited for the bus. Unfortunately the driver didn´t want to take us since we looked like shit. So we had to go over the hill for 12kilometers to get home. There was a lot of bitching on the way home. So when we saw the light of the garage we thought we were saved. Well, we were not. There was a crazy thief stealing our beers. Prcalík roared like a wild animal. I have never seen anything like that before and after – Prcalík flashed around me like a ball lightning and jumped on the man who was over like 8 heads taller than him. He put him down, took him by the hair on light and stood on his neck. “Bastard!”: hissed Prcalík and then he started to laugh. It was not a thief but the owner of the garage himself who went there to get a beer.

This wise man passed all of this with a smile and offered us a beer. So we sat there, drunk beer and we (finally) listened to some good music until the morning. I remember going from the garage right in the summer job. Sleepy, beaten and convinced that nobody would ever see me on any party ever. Which actually happened and me and my friends tried to get away from villages. Well, unless there was a good band playing. But we went there with a bigger group. So what is the lesson here you asking? I am disgusted by parties and Michal David so much that every time I hear some stupid disco hit my hair stand on my head.

The sixteenth tale – A few words about Jana

 “I love you anyway, you´re so different, interesting, you have glasses and everything, you are not like the others”: Jana tried it on me. She was the most beautiful girl in the group. He was like a classic female, taking care of the rest of us. When I think about it I don´t really know who brought her. Poor girl, we did give her some hard times. Just imagine a bunch of teenagers who were always laughing, loving beer and among them there was only a one girl at the beginning. It was not easy for Jana. Her father was an absolute asshole, when he was drunk he beaten up everyone he met. He was even in a jail two times. I remember giving her my snacks occasionally which I had from home to eat at school. A few times her mother had no money for a bread.

Jana was definitely not a sissy. I am not saying that her soul was not beautiful, clean and hones but she was incredibly funny. However, her life was very difficult at that time. She also inherited a bad luck for guys from her mother and when we met her she had already had some bad experiences from relationships. She was a little bit older and more experienced than we were. She had huge beautiful breasts and Prcalík secretly called them jewellery (due to a hockey slang). What a nice look but for us Jana was just a friend. She studied saleswoman and when he had practice lessons in shops she always “gave us sales”. If you would saw her, standing in the store wearing the company uniform, you would have to love her too. Men were circling around her like crazy. And she just laughed about it and gave them a vale all the time. When someone was very annoying she would told us and we took care of it.

 The best thing was going out, out of the city. Jane looked like she is in her own skin and she was glowing. She looked like a sutler who leads her section of metal warriors she manipulates them in her beautiful female manners. We talked with so many musicians thanks to her distinctive look and amazing laughter. This lady was just impossible to overlook. I will always remember the times when she was walking toward us along the undulating meadow´s bedrock where we met at the folded panels. The sun was shining and she was literally floating. Just like a wounded black angel. We all stared at her dreamily and we were imagining unreal things. It is possible to say we adored her. Many of us gave her a piece of human warmth, but I was never among them. I didn´t want to somehow stop the mutual harmony. It was odd because that was the age of a person when you would just comfort every girl who looked good. And this lady was the first league.

Jana is another figure in my early youth who left an incredible range of memories in my head. We experienced an endless parties together, long foot journeys from concerts, great moments listening to new albums.  I remember one time when we were lying next to each other in a train going from Liberec. The smell of her hair, how she took of her heavy shoes and put her long legs on mine. I was afraid to move so she didn´t wake up and I didn´t want this moment to end. Sometimes I think about the very long night in our cottage when we talked so much about each other in so many details. With alcohol and hers endless cry. I remember her first jump of stage when she almost suffocated me with her breasts when she fell down. She was a wonderful woman with one of the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen in my life.

We both get old. Recently I have met her in a Prague at a concert. For a moment we stood facing each other. I have about 60kilos more and she definitely have less than that. She have some wrinkles but the special one around the mouth. People who smile a lot have these. I don´t see very well but the beautiful walk convinced me that it was her. Just like a tiger hunting. We were looking in each other’s eyes for a long time, no words. It was the same as they told you in those stupid TV commercials, the whole life is going through your head. We hug. I have to admit that my tough guy mask had to go away for a minute because there was rivers of tears in my eyes. Finally I had seen someone from the good old days who ended well! From the Dead Man was a very alive man and our faces lit up with memories. After all, Jana is one of the people who made me write these tales.

We were saying goodbye. For a long time, any of us wanted to stop talking about the “our” days. We were like two pensioners at the grammar school reunion. Finally, I raised my hand with devil horns and said “Metal!”. Then I rather didn´t turn and I walk forward so I didn´t broke the beauty of her and remember her for ever. Jana is still a goddess.

After reading and “approving” this story Jana asked me to devote this story to our friend Katka “Katyně” who unfortunately recently passed away after a long and ugly disease.

I proudly devote this story about one of my best friends and goddess of my teenage dreams to Jana and her equally beautiful and clear warrior Katka “Katyně”. Girls, thank you for everything…I will listen to Iron Maiden toning in your honour (do you remember the house party in our cottage?) and I will get drunk until I faint.

The seventeenth tale – The Cemetery Flowers

“Hey guys, how about going to the cemetery sometime?” asked the main philosopher of our group of lost souls, Kytka. Everyone were grunting: “Why? What are we going to do there?”: asked Prcalík and you were able to tell that he was not really happy about it. “Well, metal and stuff. I have read in some foreign magazines that some bands to that”: continued Kytka. Then he started to talk about Venom, Bathory and other groups. So we all started to wonder. Well when we are the metal fans we should done something like that. But we were just not sure what we were going to do there. However guys were getting to like that idea and said that guys from the city were going there. And that it was the best it could be. I have to admit that I was not happy about this idea. It was the time I buried my grandmother and the idea of walking around the cemetery at night and disturbing the dead on their rest? It was quite scary.

But I didn´t want to be the one to tear the group. The plan was simple. Kytka would took a camera, I beer, Praclík a rope and others just would went with us. We were supposed to go over the wall, took photo next to the oldest grave a go back. We were not very brave. For all those upside down crosses, drawings, stitches and black T-shirt hided a group of youngsters who were just getting to know the world around them. I wanted to have the courage to go so I had a big tough words, listened to the Slayer for the whole day and tried to calm down my shivering knees.  It was Friday, Autumn, we sat in the garage. All of the props were prepared, beer was finished, the mood was funny and chilling at the same time. Here we went. I would have never tell that in the end there was going to be just the unholy tree of us and Jana the goddess. The rest of the guys had a lot of excuses and then they just didn´t come. Just because me and Kytka were the tallest ones we toss the rope over the wall. Just when the church´s clock were striking midnight. “Dude, it worked out so well didn´t it, so metal right?”: said Prcalík to give me the courage. He just ripped a hole on his crotch of his pants because he was just too small.

Finally we managed to throw him over the wall and now there was a problem – what was going to happen with Jane? Well that was a little bit more fun. She had the good proportions. The constant laughter, sexual jokes that was just something we didn´t want to miss. Finally we were there. The graves were nicely taken care of and were lit up with the lights above. It was incredibly murky. “Shit” said Prcalík´s shadow behind us. This little guy just had broken some lantern. “Who cares, I still don´t understand why dead people need lights”: said Prcalík and we continued in our journey to the huge sandstone. We walked softly, Jana was clutching my hand until it hurt. And eventually Kytka said “Shit man, I forgot the film for the camera at home”. We were just not able to hold it anymore and started to laugh out loud like crazy. We agreed to stay sitting in one hundred years grave and the forgetful friend went to a long journey across the whole town to get the film. We were telling ghost stories. The wind was floating around us in the leaves and we were talking quietly. Jana was nuzzling to me like she wanted something more than just a protection from death which was felt everywhere.

In the best moment ever there is the guard of cemetery who screamed and ran to us. We fled in confusion but each of us the other direction. Just the old genes woke up from the time we used to steal apples on gardens in the residential area. Rule number one – everyone have to go the other direction! I see Jana in the distance running as a rabbit, zigzagging her way which is very funny. He caught her but we were going to do something about that. We attacked the guard and told him that we were there just to take a picture (which was something he couldn´t have understand) and finally we were able to get our friend out of his clutches. I get a few slaps, Prcalík was kicked below the knee and he hobbled. It didn´t matter! Hooray, now we were able to run. I threw Prcalík over the wall, then Jana. I was losing balance and felt on my back to the freshly dug grave. I heard their meeting with Kytka who was walking proudly with the film.

“Yeah and now I will land you up with dirt”: said a burly man with a flashlight in his hand above me. He happily lighted up a cigarette. “You have two options. One – I call the cops. Two – you and your friends will help me rake the roads here”: he added. I screamed for help to my comrades in arms and of course I chosen the work.

We stood there with rakes in our hands, sweeping with brooms. We carry a piles of dust, debris and leaves on one big pile. A night work in the cemetery is not too bad we said to each other. And we knew we were going to be the greatest heroes in school on Monday. Kytka was taking pictures of all of us in various tough poses with such a victory. We were looking forward to see those pictures for more than a month. Unfortunately in the rush our beloved friend put the film in the camera in a wrong way. So when we came to the photo store they gave us only one picture. It was a nice picture of the building right in front of the cemetery.

 The cemetery obsession was more encouraged by this experience. But with the difference that we went to the cemetery only by listening to music, imaginatively. We went to the real cemetery only when it was necessary. Like when some of our friends were getting to pass away. Which happened quite quickly unfortunately. Like there were some black clouds above our group. But that is another story. The world was a better place while you were by the speakers, outside by the panels, or in a pub rather than around the cemetery flowers.

The eighteenth tale – The Romanian Echoes.

My and Kytka we would had never thought about this but my mother had some vouchers in ČEDOK (travelling agency). So she arranged a visit for us in Romanian resort Constanta. My father said that he was not going by bus and he would rather drive by car. Kytka´s father worked with my father agreed. So it was a beautiful summer day in late July and beginning of August, employees of the Boleslav´s ŠKODA factory had a holiday. Two ŠKODA 120 cars went toward Slovakia. I took my festive Slayer T-Shirt and Kytka wore Metallica T-Shirt. We received a lot of advices how to get lucky with Romanian girls, what to do if we met Dracula. Prcalík gave us all those information like a month before we went.

The first stop – next to Bratislava. Schnitzel consumption, Kytka secretly smoking behind the gas station, the endless cursing of my father about the air ventilation in the car not working. And there was Hungary. My long legs were hurting so much, I had them folded back in the car on the base of beer and sandwiches with baggage. I thought about girls, falling asleep and cursing my father because he didn´t want to do any more stops. We were driving 100 kilometres per hour towards the Budapest. We camped just outside the beautifully lighted up city in forest. I fell asleep just because I was finally able to stretch my legs. I had my headphones in ears and were listening to Kreator (Extreme Aggression). During the night when I was barely perceiving the beautiful German music I was thinking to myself what was I going to do by the Black Sea when my batteries would die? My brother was just a kid, my parents were boring and I saw Kytka every day anyway. I had face of a bothered teenager and insanely stupid speeches.

Driving between Slovakia and Hungary was OK. But this weird summer of 1989 Romanians enjoyed our company just like anyone else. They were even looking in our tires and I had to undress and was almost naked. Who cares when there was a good loking Romanian girl working on the customhouse? But still it was very weird and dark. Finally we were in the land of Mr. Ceausescu. Suddenly, everything is dark, no lamps, and no lights. We were driving the darkened Bucharest, only stars and cursing of my father behind the wheel. The determination of enjoying a different holiday than in Croatia was so strong. We arrived to the Carpathians and one of the biggest nightmares of my life started.

We were passing through a small town with an odd cursing name when suddenly we heard a huge bang. “Shit, they are throwing rocks at us”: hared my mom and I instinctively put my head in my palms. My brother was crying and we were afraid to stop. We drove to something like a highway. Well, that was what the map was saying, but the reality was different. It was just a spilled asphalt full of holes and hopelessness. Finally there was a sunrise and we stopped in the middle of a nowhere. That might have been a moment of silence, right? Wrong. In five minutes there were like 10 dark skinned Romanians around the luggage with food and clothes. They were pulling everything out of our hands and they wanted to kidnap my brother. The next car of our trip saved us when it purposefully rammed into the group of fierce and insistent thieves. “Go to hell”: yelled Kytka´s father from the window and he took a wrench. My father went to the thieves and I was protecting my brother. It worked.

My mom almost fainted and Kytka lighted his first cigarette in front of the adults. Nobody was shocked. In the end he was smoking with his father while we were having a small council about the situation. From now on we had to drive together to protect each other. We headed out. Endless road, sometimes there were weird towns which looked like when we stop we would be killed. Dirt, greyness and scream of small children. “Gumi gumi gumi.” They wanted a chewing gum, we were the “west” people for them. That was happening in a crazy contrast with the beautiful nature of the mountains. We were not able to sleep, just passing the Májka pasty like a peace pipe. My brother wet himself of fear, his hand were shaking. “The important thing is to enjoy the holiday”: said my mother into the silence of our car and my father looked like is head was going to explode.

This went on for another day. Then the countryside opened and we saw the sea. Grey, in weird fog just different from what we were used to in Croatia. “Well, not great. Máchovo Jezero is better!”: reported Kytka on an improvised rest place and his beautiful mother was imagining herself on that beach already. So the accommodation was the next stop, bribing of the parking place guard with cigarettes. And finally there was a peaceful moment.  The rooms were nice but old. But people were looking with strange looks. I lay down for a little bit and we had a meeting with Kytka down in front of the hotel. The local militias was passing us and looked on us like we were murderers. We jumped into water and screamed so hard. There was a group of East German girls and I blessed my German teacher for being so hard on me. Suddenly I was in the centre of attention and our parents were glad we were able to have fun. We were exchanging music knowledge and one of the girls looked at me like I was a saint.

“Dude, I arranged a meeting with them but they have a guard so we had to go over the sill, the window will be open”: promised Kytka and added that the girls also had some booze which they brought from home. I thought to myself that this was not going to be so bad and I took two cartons of cigarettes from the luggage – for bribing. What an idiot, if I just had knew how much we will be missing them. I knocked at three on the door where Kytka and his family were staying. I found his mom in those beautiful swimsuit. I was looking at her with my mouth open and she smiled. She gave Kytak a few marks to buy those girls something. I was climbing a thin window parapet, putting one leg after the other and standing on the third floor we looked like pigeons. We were so excited. I am the first one by the window, panting. “Maybe tonight I get lucky and be inside of some Gertrude”: said Kytka behind me and one of the girls sharply opened the window. Unfortunately, she opened it outward, not inward how civilized people would have done. I lost my balance and fell down. For a long time. Just like a bag of potatoes. I felt beneath the hotel. I precisely hit the concrete plinth. Right on my belly. I screamed, tried to crawl, but I fainted.

I know from the stories that Kytka woke up the whole hotel. People said it was like in an action movie. Ambulances, police, sirens, screaming of girls, mothers crying and poor Kytka´s face who looked like I was dying. Which was not that wrong – that was what doctor told me in front of our delegate. Every sentence went through her, she only knew Russian, German and Romanian and my mom just knew German. They brought me to an autopsy room, or it just looked like that. Or it more looked like a vet station, there were people on blankets, kids were climbing over them and there was a scream everywhere. So I thought I was already dead. But strangely I was not, there was my room. Finally. They said it was a room for foreign guests. Next to my bed was a blonde girl with an STD from Poland. Again, I was in agony and I woke up only when they were sticking needles in my left butt cheek with some intoxicating substance. I remember the big Sun being all the time in a different height. I had no idea about time at all.

They said I was in this condition of several days. I laid on that smelly rack and I was sorry for the nurses because doctors were yelling at them all the time. I had some privileges as a foreign patient. For example getting food which I was not able to eat. Like a strudel which had seafood instead of apples in it. Well, that was nothing I would have enjoyed. I like the Czech dry biscuits more so I was giving my food to children. The kids knew about it so there were lines in front of my doors. They assigned me one young nurse who were watching me during the night. She had a nice dark eyes and smiled like an angel. She only spoken Romanian yet we spend long hours looking in each other’s eyes and from time to time she caressed my cheeks. And she listed some metal band names which she knew. If only I had more energy, I would go out with her. But I was in pain and counted minutes until her fat colleague come to heat drugs on the stove. She came screw the needle and I prayed for the needle to be sterile. I don´t think it was, but they didn´t care. Sometimes I hallucinated, I was only able to lay on my right side and my stomach hurt so much.

“What´s wrong?”: I heard some “Czech-polish” voice in the other corner. It was the evening and I realised for the first time that I was not the only one in the room. The blonde Polish girl Alesandra talked with me about being from Wroclav. That she were there with parents on vacation. We stayed in the same hotel. Then she started to cry and I was not able to calm her down. She told me that when she went to the beach to go swimming (she did that every day) a group of Romanians attacked her and they were raping her for an hour. The receptionist from the hotel saw it and saved her, unless she could have died there. Initially I wanted to hug her but I was not able to lift. She cried, for a long time and over the city were a thousand of stars shining. Me and Aleksandra talked sometimes even though we were not really able to understand each other. She was also cursed with trash, just like me. She told me everything about Polish music, about clubs there, bands and during that she was crying like crazy. We felt like we knew each other since the childhood. Like she was one of us – the ones from the panels, from the garage, from the pub by an Oak.

“I think I´m dying”: I said to Kytka when he came to visit me. He was tanned and had something with Gertruda. He came to say goodbye, they were leaving. We hugged and prayed together so we would met in Boleslav soon. Just to make sure I endowed him all my tapes and suddenly he was gone.

After a week I looked like a shadow of myself and there it was, payment problems. Doctors said that eventually everything would be OK just by having injections. So after 14 days in hospital I left the building and came to the shining sun and I fell a few times on the stairs. I was weak like a fly. But what a joyful moment! I turned and there was Aleksandra in the window waving at me. She had to be in the hospital a little bit longer because she had a syphilis which she caught from one of the rapists. We met her parents, mother was crying and we left to the hotel. We had to pack everything and we were leaving the next day. Finally! My stomach was so bloated, I was hunched over and they said that some vein burst or something. They told me to get an operation in my country. I will never know what they gave me in my veins. There was no report, however we asked for one a few times. I fell asleep in my hotel room and after that I ate the whole cookies package. I just didn´t understand how I would manage to survive the journey to home.

If I could define the Hell it would be the exact day after we left the hotel. There was again throwing stones at our car, thieves, the lack of food and water but you get used to it. Man can live even without money, however the pain I felt during the three days, when I was screaming to stop it, that was something I don´t want to feel again. I even screamed at night when we slept in some abandoned places in tent. My father was on guard and mother was with me and wiped my sweaty forehead. Hallelujah!, Hungary in a minute. That was what we were all thinking while passing the crooked sign. It was dark but the journey was suddenly happier. But, the devil never sleeps and there was a big bang. We went through some deep hole on the road and we broke the transmission in the car. My mom went out of the car, sat on the side of the road and started to cry, for like a hundredth of time. Brother did the same thing and my father said words I had never heard from him before. To be honest I was quite happy because at least for a minute the car was not moving and bouncing. I fell asleep in the ditch and then a miracle happened.

A German Mercedes stopped on the side of the road and inside there was about six-foot tall blond man. He said hi in German and offered a help. He pulled our car back to civilization, to Hungary. My mother ripped the lining of her jacket and took out the marks for crisis. For the second time, the first half we spent for the hospital treatment. The repairmen were not able to understand but they looked like they knew what they were doing. Unfortunately, that was not completely true and we paid two time more and the fifth gear was not working. And sometimes the floor of the car was rattling sometimes in a weird way. But we survived Hungary after two days of not doing anything and my crying in a local camp. Hooray, Slovakia! When we passed Bratislava mother told us to go for some corn in the field. Because we needed to save money for gas so we had to limit the food. In the last few days she were promising some meat in the freezer at home and she said she would cook it. So we all ordered our favourite portion.

Finally, when we saw the Mladá Boleslav even my father looked like he was going to cry. We drove between the buildings, came out of the car and suddenly there was a neighbour. You know, the old, witchy gossip neighbour. “I think you have a dead body in your apartment! The smell is horrible. I wanted to call the police”: she yelled between the blocks so everyone could hear it. We opened the door to our apartment and fainted by the horrible sweetish smell. Our freezer rot out with the meat my mother promised us. I vomited and lay on my bed. I didn´t care about anything and just wanted to die. Instead I fell asleep, drugged with several blue pills which were brought to me with the best tea I have ever drunk. 

Our Romanian anabasis thoroughly examined my faith in myself. I had never experienced anything like this until then and my pain would be great for the whole almanac. I was examined a few times, two times operated and finally they sewn and declared as a healthy with a caution. I was not allowed to go for karate lessons for two months, to panels, I was not allowed to do anything. For the first weeks on high school my gym teacher thought I was lazy. But my stomach hurt so much. The cracked and bruised vein was removed but the healing was long. However, till this day nobody knows what the Romanian hospital did to me. Today, I don´t really care about all of this, but for a long time me and Kytka were always saying that at that time in Romania we survived our own death.

The nineteenth tale – Let´s go to Wroclaw!

It started completely innocently. Just one day Kytka came to me, he liked foreign metal magazines, and said that one very sharp band called VADER was really big in the neighbouring Poland. Anyone of us had no idea about this band. But then Mára came from Prague and confirmed that local guys talked about this band and said that it was brilliant. And because we had this habit in Mladá Boleslav that everything what was from Prague was cool (at least in case of music) we had to make a crazy plan. Kytka just had read somewhere that in that summer Vader were supposed to be in Poland right in Wroclav. And being young and determined we thought that we were going to go by train, or hitchhiking. I remember exactly how I was looking through the map and searching the ways how track went from Mladá Boleslav to Poland so I tried to create an imaginary route plan. It was a quite distance and we had to go over Prague and Ostrava, which meant a three-day long event.

It was Friday, summer – 1990. Kytka picked up a huge backpack which he filled with everything he needed for surviving – which his father (an old tramp) told him. “Dude, are you going beyond Ural?”: yelled Prcalík and we were wondering how come he had nothing with him. “I just need money and cigarettes, it´s Poland, everything is cheap there”: he added and me, Kytka and Jana felt like an idiots with our huge baggage. We all had sleeping bags, food, money and our friend Kytka had even a tent and a mini survival kit. Just in case. On the way to the station we decided that due to lack of money we were going hitchhiking to Ostrava. So we turned to the opposite side of the road and stood at the roadside, trying to catch a car and we were determined to conquer Poland.

“Dude, people are just lunatics”: reported Praclík a few miles beyond Hradec Králové. We always put Jana in the front so people stopped. But when we came out, everyone just left. Except from one very old lady in even older Škoda car who took us to Hradec Králové for the whole afternoon. “This sucks”: Kytka shouted angrily behind us and add that he was not going anywhere, that his backpack was too heavy and that VADER could go fuck themselves. We lay down in a park for a while, just right next to a cemetery and we decided that we will finish the journey on Saturday. I was quite nervous about that but suddenly Praclík found a bottle of homemade plum vodka in Kytka´s backpack asking “What do we have here?”. And everything was better. I fall asleep on Jana covered in some old ugly blanket which was bought by Prcalík from some local almost homeless guy. I kept my sleeping bag in my backpack the whole night.

I woke up around 5 o´clock in the morning, the sun woke me up by shining right into my face for a while. Praclík was peeing right next to me and asking me if I had something with Jana during the night. She was snoring like a lumberjack and I didn´t regret that I had nothing with her that night. Suddenly the flower of ours woke up, said something about idiots and went to vomit next to the cemetery wall. Kytka was still squinting but when all of us started to running through his backpack he was suddenly awake and we were going to the highway to Ostrava. For a while we sent Jana to stop cars but locals didn´t went for that so I took care of it. And hey, a van stopped there, a guy which looked like he had no interest in girls jumped out of the van and asked where we were going. Suddenly we all had the biggest luck ever. Although I had to sit right next to the “gayish” driver, he took us next to Wroclav. The whole journey we were just thinking how much money we were saving by hitchhiking. However I had to bravely reject again and again the deviant proposals of our driver for hours.

“If you just gave him what he wanted, he would took us for a lunch. And if you just blown him he would give you enough money to buy cigarettes”: overwhelms me Prcalík for a while who was the only one being checked at the border. He looked like Philthy Animal from Motorhead and Polish customs probably had some experiences. So I ignored what he was saying and for a while I felt like Jana who had to endure our irreverent allusions all the time. In my head I was apologizing to her and we searched for our train. We found it and there was a payment problem. Well because we were an assholes and didn´t exchange the zloté money. In the end we persuade a Czech woman who saved the whole concert experience for us and maybe our lives. Then we were in the train and Prcalík was getting famous with his IRON MAIDEN imitation in front of some local metal fans. Suddenly everything worked like a clockwork. Polish people were very good in hosting. Although they had no idea about VADER but they were our blood. One of them was too close to Jana for a second, but I was there – the guard of all ladies and after a few explanations in Russian and German the Jacek understood that she was mine (just for sure).

So we were drinking with our new friends who also led us to some big pub and till this day we have no idea how was it called. Someone thing that it was By Two Crows, Jana say that we were too drunk and the name was totally different. Well yes, we were drunk, tired also by the crazy journey. But in the end I decided to pick this name just because I like it now. It was more like a basement drinking hole where we met Adam (we didn´t know him at that time) who was the drummer of a local Polish warriors HADES (the future LOST SOUL). He asked where we came from and we he found out how we get there he was bewildered. He became our guide, mentor and benefactor. Suddenly we were sitting in the yard, drinking not bad beer and we were actually really happy and satisfied. Even Petr with Krzysztof (Docent) came a few times to our table but they had so much to do with the concert preparation and we had no idea that they were VADER.

We went do to a huge basement (it looked like some old fallout shelter) and at first there was a black band killing us. Nothing much I thought to myself and after a few years I found out that it was the future Polish black metal band CHRIST AGONY. I didn´t like them at that time. And I forget about them for a few years. Jana was screaming in the front rows, she was drunk because our Polish friends constantly poured vodka in her.  Then there was HADES who seemed like a total mess for me, the sworn trash fan. I went to get drunk right next to a bar and I met a Polish girl named Aleksandra which I met before in a hospital in Romania when I was there on vacation with my family. That is a different and very long story but I was bewildered by her presence. This was such coincidence that it felt like a statistical error. She hang on my shoulders and we were together for the rest of the event.

VADER was the last band, I was sure about that. But it was worse with the band before them. Me and my friends again have no idea which band was it, but it doesn´t matter because after a few tones we just went outside and cheerfully comrade with the Polish underground. But, back to VADER. Just like in the past my love for SLAYER, MOTORHEAD and other bands was born from cassettes, that night was very important for my death metal love (although severely mixed with trash). I was hearing some of the demo songs in my head for the next half year. Our hosts gave us cassettes, T-Shirts and Jana received like 9 marriage proposals. The concert was amazing, we jumped, sometimes people fought, just an ordinary 90ths classic concert. The Polish people were very wild fans, sharp and very drunk. The memorable massacre will be always in my head and for a long time it was like ethanol for all future performances.   I had never heard anything like what Peter and his group did ever before. I cannot describe it in words, you would have to be there.

I remember being totally drunk and saying everybody how they were great (which I do till this day) and was hugging everyone. Prcalík and Kytka found some girls and some older Polish lady (like 30 years old) took care of Jana. My “old-new” friend Aleksandra spread her long blonde hair on my and it was very pleasant. I just don´t know if there was something between us that night. I was so drunk that I am sure I wouldn´t remember it. But the certain thing is that the next day she was acting very mysteriously. But maybe I was just a cute sleeper. Who knows…

I was sixteen and had one of the biggest hangovers in my life. But there was a cassette in my hand “Morbid Reich”. I lay on a stone courtyard and slowly waking up. They told me that I didn´t want to sleep inside, that I told them I was an Indian and I was not able to fall asleep under a roof. Polis understood because they also liked Vinetou movies. And then I felt like in a dream. Someone came, took us in a van and drove us to the train station. I just remember the signs outside the window passing by OSTRAVA, PRAHA, BOLESLAV. I was going vomiting regularly to the toilet and I vomited through the whole Czech Republic and even a few miles in Poland. Jana was proudly doing the same thing and Prcalík and Kytka were pushing their LPs on their chests and slept like two saints.  A few time they woke up, burped, said something and I was just thinking about my new “love”, about VADER.

Our first foreign trip was a success, although we went to an unknown target. Suddenly I stood in front of our house, kissing Jana goodbye who had to go to sleep to Kytka´s house. Her father came back for prison so her home was not safe. I fell asleep and slept for days. And in my dreams I saw parts of “Morbid Reich” songs and Aleksandra. But in the full version now.

In a few days we were on the panels when we were meeting and all of our friends had an envious looks on their faces. People who didn´t come to the land of metal were listening to our stories and mythical legends. We were like stars and enjoyed it so much. I constantly talked about VADER and some of our friends told me to go fuck myself.

So there my great hobby was born – going on concerts. We went like everywhere we could and where we could afford to go. We discovered so many new bands, new people, friends, some very strong ties were born. But the first “unknown” band which I saw in abroad was VADER.
25 long years passed since this story happened. I recently saw VADER concert in Brno (report here). The whole tour was dedicated to their first demos. When I stood in the crowd of people below the stage I felt like I was back on the first concert. Right after VADER stopped playing I rushed to Peter so we could take a picture. My prayer had been heard and I was the 16th year old boy with a twinkle in his eye. All the way form the concert I was thinking about all my friends and about this story which you have just read. Thanks for your attention dear and beloved friends…

The twentieth tale – Metal T-Shirts, The Story of one Addiction

I made my first T-Shirt by myself. I stole/borrowed a template from a guy from school which he made from cardboard. I got a white T-Shirt from Poles and then I just needed a spray. “Slayer must be red, dude”: said Prcalík and passed me a gun with paint which I stole from his father in garage (his father took it from automakers – sweetbrier red – author´s ed.). But the devil never sleeps and at that time I was not the most skilled. The first spray was great, logo looked awesome. It was big and I strutted like a peacock. However, after the first washing it was pink and people mocked me. There were words like gay, ass, anus, pussy, etc. So at one time I just rage the T-Shirt. It was already faded. It was the right time to have an original T-Shirt. Or a replica from Polish profiteers. I hadn´t got money for the original one.

My father got me a part time job in Boleslav´s Škoda Factory. For two months I was in the basement in the paint shop and there was no light. And I just argued with my friends about who were throwing all the “shit” on our heads. Above us worked Cubans, Poles, Czechs and Slovaks. So my T-Shirt was redeemed by digesting of several nations and several weeks of a back pain. I didn´t fit in channels because of my height. Anyway, the next trip, choosing and the endless arguments about a few bucks with seller of metal fake things was worth it.  I brought a piece of clothing with a METALLICA sign as a sacrament home. The motive Kill ´Em All. Nobody ever laughed at me and I throw the T-Shirt to the garbage only when my body was getting bigger for some reason. And the time when I don´t like really liked metal I just went and throw all the cassettes and T-Shirts.

So that was how origins of my weird fetish had been born. Till this day my wife reproaches that I´m not normal, that we don´t have room for all of this, that I am not able to wear all of this during my lifetime and who do I think is going to iron all of that. But I don´t wear almost anything else. I even wear the finer motives to work. A T-Shirt as a symbol of belonging to a community of dubious existences, like a mark, like an incredible mimicry, I wore it till today. I met so many people and friends thanks to those signs on my chest. And it is my way of supporting my favourite bands. Some of my colleagues or people who didn´t penetrate through the skin people have around them might consider me as a weirdo. Or someone who is an absolute ANTI-expert on modern clothing. I feel comfortable, I don´t care about what is in and I am just happy.

The interesting is how my taste in clothing has changed. At first I refused all skulls and death, I liked simple logos. Over time I went harder and now I like all the upside down crosses and prolapsed guts. It discourage people and many of them repels. I´m glad. I don´t know why but my face attracts homeless people who go for their alms, Jehovah´s Witnesses, lunatics of all kinds and mothers conferring at playgrounds that their husband doesn´t want them anymore. Maybe I should have become a reseller of a faith, I think I would be successful (what do you thing about guru Asphyx?) Nothing works – a cruel look of my weak and winking eyes, nor a wrestler position (a best ready for jump). People just come to me and want to talk, beg or ask. So the only thing which works is having some T-Shirt with a skeleton.  And that is not the only advantage. Fans of the same signs, fans of the same bands are able to search themselves and connect, talk. In the past it was like today´s Facebook groups and discussion forums.

I have a strange rule, I never wear a T-Shirt of the band which is playing on a concert. I don´t know why but it happened when I was starting to write about music and some bands just thought “too much about themselves”. The only exception is probably Motorhead, but that is a different chapter.

Today, I have so many T-Shirts that I feel like a green widow from a satellite town that doesn´t know what to do with her whore outfits. I like it that way. I support bands which I think deserve to be supported and people don´t talk to me on streets. Just the waiting in front of a school for my kids sometimes feels weird when the “stylish” parents with a slight smile on their faces might have a slight respect. But I don´t care. I´m glad that in the eightieth I succumbed for this anti style. 

The twenty-first tale – Me, Heavy Metal, Trash Metal, Heavy Metal, Doom Metal, Black Metal and finally Death Metal 

I went over those 27 years of listening metal through the Hell from one side to another. I started as a rocker on vinyl of my parent, I touched heavy metal, browsed swamps of doom metal, indulged black orgies with black metal and finally I ended probably for ever in death metal and trash. The interesting is that I didn´t like some bands in their biggest fame and I found them just recently. And I was probably the only one who like other bands and talked about them all the time with my friends and they criticised them a lot. Over those years I came to a single thing. If the music is good it doesn´t matter which style it is and it doesn´t need any borders. I am a “killer” with my soul and body but when there is new Robert Plant´s album I am dying. I love the old heavy metal. The old “venom” black. But I have never liked the Czech rock (for some reason it lives on Czech villages). What I don´t like is when music includes politics. And it might be a good band but when they are expressing their political opinions in music I just don´t want to even dig in this morass of posturing left-right shit.
And still, I endlessly appreciate the bands which have charge, rebellion, passion and sparkle even then the technical prowess. I have always been and will be an ordinary listener who loves moments of tension when he brings a new album to his home (or listen to new music on the internet). You turn on the hi-fi recorder and with every pore of your body just wait what will it do to you. That´s why I will never be a critic nor an embittered music publicist. I just like to listen to music and I just refuse the bad music. Life is too short to clogging my head with something I don´t like. And today you can find out a lot about the band even before you buy it which is very nice for me - a consumer. Today I am a getting old deather who likes to go on concerts to clubs, sometimes he makes himself happy by doing interviews with bands who he loved in his youth. Felt like the bands were half-gods. And I like to support bands who deserve it. The selection is huge and my ears are not omnipotent but I´m excited and elated that I am able to slowly create a space (read: DEADLY STORM) where we connect people from the whole world who are as crazy as I am. Music, as you know, brings people together…and I am so glad that I can be a little part of this.

The twenty-second tale – Why do we love Rock´N´Roll?

At the beginning there was a rebellion. We wanted to be different, not to include ourselves into the blunt herd. With age, it´s more and more difficult. All of us have been eaten by jobs, families, duties but as they say freedom is hidden in a soul. I don´t know anything better than coming back from work to my home, stretching out my legs full of varicose veins and turn on the recorder. Maybe it is called music therapy, maybe it´s just a noise treatment. And I don´t care. Nothing matters, I relax and just swinging on the waves of guitar patters. This is something you are not able to explain to other music genres lovers. They miss the experience, a piece of the mutual encounter with a band.

When we were young and divided ourselves as metal fans, Depesh Mode fans and disco fans, I told everyone that the most exciting thing for my ears are guitars. With age I extended this claim on the whole assembly and in the end I find out that the most exciting thing for me is rhythm. That´s why I love bands where bass player sings. I just feel that they has their voice as a complement to the music, it doesn´t interfere the music or me. I don´t like yelling voices (maybe just a few ones) and I am so bored by preludes. I want my ass to be kicked, I need a decent song, a pieces of recognizable talent and not just a gymnastics of people which reminds more machines rather than living beings. That is why I will be a rocker and I will be buried as a rocker. Even very extreme one.

I love stories by old “big beat fans”, I watch retro TV programs about music from the 60th till the 90th. I like to search and discover new rock gems. One life is too short for this task but I am willing to try it, what do you think? When you look under the hood and choose the best meat for yourself you suddenly find out that there is so much beauty, cruelty, sadness and other emotions which are being expressed by instruments. The history of electric guitars, basses, drums and roaring voices is something which creates new testimonies every time. I think I was born in some old blues times, than was reborn a few time and finally was brought to these days. Who knows?

The twenty-third tale – Agenta Orange and the Grey Christmas 1989

It was June and the album Agent Orange (1989) by Sodom was released and it smashed our trash community like a bowling ball. It was cruel, incredibly energetic and there was so much of “Sodoooom!” shouting. My passion for this album was little disturbed by my Romanian experience and the first year of high school. But otherwise I love it till today. Kytka didn´t like it at all and he was really angry when we were playing it. We were spending a lot of time at the panels at that time because there was the revolution going on around us and everything was upside down. 

One day our teacher handed us the SSM applications and the next day he went to school with a sign of Civic Forum and he call us to protest. And again, the next day he came with the applications. And finally he stopped doing it when my friend told him to fuck off. Sometimes they told us that school is closed for the day and we should go protest somewhere. But that was when we knew that communists lost. Instead, we always went to the panels where it was quiet and nobody cared about us. After two months of turmoil and chaos the political power was submitted and the initial euphoria began to fall. In such working-class city like Mladá Boleslav we didn´t mostly even know about the dissent, political prisoners and similar matters. How could we when most people spent their time by going to work and being in their cottages on weekends. Then, the winter came.

That year we spent our time between the garage, panels and the pub by an Oak. And we felt like everybody laughed at us. A 15 year old person probably doesn´t understand this but our world stayed the same that year. At least during Christmas. We were not Prague and you cannot teach workers new things that easy. It just seemed that at that Christmas people drunk more and everywhere.

I snapped the school door behind me, turned and show my middle finger. So much bullshit was happening at the school and our teachers shed their anger on us. Some like the democracy, other wanted to leave everything as it was. The nervousness was everywhere. We, the young boys, fell it out and were very anxious. The crowd psychology worked perfectly. I was so excited to see my friends. “Dude, Christmas again, I will have to clean the stairs covered with vomit, again”: said Prcalík when we saw each other behind the city. We came to catch up with Kytka and Jana. Somebody bought a bottle of wine and I was talking about the Sodom over and over. “Say the name (Sodom) one more time and I´ll kill you”: said Kytka with his hand stretched out at me but he was laughing. He liked to be with us, his parents were still psychically recovering from that year´s vacation and since that they had been fighting all the time. Jana as always was happy outside, when she was at home she had to always take care of her father and check if she was or was not drunk. When he was she had to go out because he would fight with anyone. I think I was the only one who was excited about Christmas.

During the holidays I always went to the relatives in the morning, wearing a decent corduroy pants. I talked with the old ladies and I really liked to do it, believe me. I have always loved my aunts. In the evening when it was dark, Prcalík whistled the melody by Slayer under my window and we went. The cold was getting under our denim jackets, the T-Shirts were stuck to our cold bodies but we were the happiest guys and lady on the world. Or rather beneath the Moon. Suddenly everyone believed in God because after the coup people were allowed to do so, so in otherwise atheistic city there were prayers everywhere. “The blackass people will shit themselves one time”: said Prcalík when we saw one of those groups.

I don´t remember how our Christmas tree looked like or what I got for Christmas but I clearly remember the door bell ringing right after my father fell asleep by the TV. It was around 8 o´clock. When I opened the door there they were: like the Three Kings – Kytka, Prcalík and Jana. I asked my parents if I were allowed to go out and nobody said a thing, so I ran to take my vest over my sweater and we walked on the streets outside. There were Christmas trees shining through every window, a kid happily screaming and Kytka commented on it: that the kid must have got the Sodom. We passed the last house and over the Radouč was thick fog. We stood by the panels because like Prcalík would say, our asses would freeze.

Jana was smiling, mysteriously, and then she gave all of us a gift. She gave me an original cassatte of Agent Orange, Kytka received a book about Metallica (it must have been so expensive, it was in German)  and Prcalík received a Kreator patch because he loved Kreator. We were bewildered because we had no idea that we were supposed to buy her something. There was a moment of awkwardness and Prcalík ended it when he said that we should had sex with Jana, all of us at once because he saw it in some video. But it was more like a joke to make the situation less tight. For real none of the three of us would even thought about it. There was an absolute silence for a while. In front of us were Mladá Boleslav´s lights flashing, the murmur of street, a dog barking in the distance. If it were possible I would love to save that moment for ever and pass it to the next generations. It was so beautiful in its simplicity and sincerity.

I don´t know what my co-warriors thought at that time of the Christmas 1989, the year of the Agenta Orange. But me, I was just thinking about the stories, experiences we had together. We were like a secret society, an organism living its own life in the concrete world. The scene of us, standing and looking at the sky when all you can here was the breathing of all of us, will be always burned on my retina. The world around us was confused, changing, hot and flowing. However, were felt incredibly strong, steadfast in the common unit and solidarity.

If you would ask me for how long we ben there, I would not be able to answer. But for what I remember, there was a raven which flew on the oak next to us and it disturbed our contemplation. I don´t know what Prcalík said at that moment but I am sure it was something dirty. We said goodbye, wished each other the very metal holidays and Jana gave all of us a big kiss on cheeks. That day I was not able to get asleep.

The twenty-fourth tale – Lemmy is God

Also written as a report from the Pilsen Motorhead concert.

“People obviously hate the truth, but I love it. I love it because it makes so many people crazy. Because when you falsify their stupid arguments for the hundredth time then maybe one day one of them will say “Oh! Wait – that´s wrong. I live for that moment. And sometimes it happens, I assure you.” (Lemmy)

The year 1990
I went out with my dog. It was scurrying around me and suddenly in front of us on the street there was Mára running, one of the best metal co-warriors. He was 13 and even then you could tell that he will have a bald head one day. He was smiling. He was holding a cassette in his hand: “Dude, Jakub, you will piss yourself, it is an old band but great one!”: said Mára instead of a hello and passed me one of the BASFs on which was a hand-painted cover MOTÖRHEAD.  And me, I was cursed for the first time when I put the tangling records in my recorder. Lemmy was yelling at me with so much pressure “Ace of Spades”. Rude, crazy, till that time it was something unimaginable. Everybody was getting crazy from me talking about it so much, I drew the logo in my school notebook, I made a T-Shirt by myself with their logo. Well, at that moment my friend made my and MOTÖRHEAD best friends forever. My friend made a copy of their poster and I put it down after 25 years when I was renovating the flat I was born in. The time ran on…

“So far I met two types of people in my life: people who respected me and people who hated me. Learn how to distinguish between those two because it is very easy to switch them.” (Lemmy)

The year 1995

It was an early morning and I couldn´t sleep any longer. I was twenty for half a year already and felt stronger as ever. That day the 10th of May 1995 we were going to Prague. The girls from the other field in our school made the school go to some musical but me and my friend we had a plan. We planned to run from the teachers, climb over a fence and try to go to the sport hall where there was concert of Lemmy and his friends. I had 150 CZK with me which was left from the summer job and I wore the MOTÖRHEAD T-Shirt. I ran from the musical which was about glorifying the Jesus Christ. While climbing I ripped my jeans right in the groin. But we were not able to get in, the guards were uncompromised and a bribe of 150 CZK was not working. I wanted to cry. Then my friend saw an open window like 500 meters above ground. My aversion to heights was suddenly irrelevant and son we were hanging on our fingers and watching Lemmy coming on the stage. It was a God in his full force (just like us). We were yelling all the famous songs, glorify the ongoing tour for the album “Sacrifice” and we were on the top of our lives with ragged joints and hurting knees. Although tired, torn and totally destroyed, in Boleslav we were like heroes. I tried to live like Lemmy for half a year. A few poisonings happened, one collapse and eventually I realize that it was impossible. And the time was passing forward, slowly but surely…

“Born to loose, live like a winner.” (Lemmy)

The year 1997

I went to Pilsen by train, to go to school. Right in front of me sat a girl with such amazing and full T-Shirt on the right places. She was smiling and I was not able to stop looking at her. I met her again a few days later in a bar in the campus, by bathrooms and I take the courage and said hi. Then we were going out, slept together, had endless disputations about music and I realized that I fell in love. It was so amazing and just as a bonus we liked the same kind of music. For the two of us Lemmy was still God. We bought every record, reviewed every new song. The life was beautiful. We were one body, soul and experienced so much fun. However, the time was counting uncompromisingly without any mercy…

“This whole generation just cries, you know? It seems like people don´t enjoy themselves. They just criticize each other when someone had a good life and enjoys it.” (Lemmy)

 The life between the years 1997 and 2015

The life forged us in even stronger pair. We had beautiful children, a huge pile of worries, work where we both work as crazy. We were slowly getting old. Sometimes we needed just a look in each other´s eyes, a hint and we didn´t have to say anything. Not only I had my family, work and sport but I added a writing about music. So the moments when “nothing is happening” were just very rare. To simplify it, we lived an ordinary life of ordinary people. Nothing “interesting” for others. Being the family cultural referent I know about every new album and when MOTÖRHEAD publish an album I automatically buy it. As a coincident I found that in spring there was going to be another opportunity to meet Lemmy (dude, do you know anyone “bigger” than Lemmy?) and his group. Even here, in Pilsen. Our kids were jealous, they watched records of recent concerts and I realized that those 20 years just went so fast and furious just like some songs of this rock band. I secretly bought tickets and gave one to my wife for her birthday. That journey ended in the night of Saturday, July the 4th 2015 in DEPO Plzeň. Everything began to click and I went enjoy the concert at 100%. Even though I knew that I cannot expect a miracle from 69 years old guy with a bass guitar. The time was running so fast….

“Death is inevitable, isn´t it? You realize this even more when you are at my age. But I am not scared. I am ready for it. If I leave I will leave by something I do the best. If I die tomorrow, I won´t complain. I enjoyed life.” (Lemmy)

July the 4th, 2015 – Pilsen…the D Day

The day before it was so hot in the evening and at that day it was the same. I woke up and the first though I had was about Lemmy´s health. Was he able to hit it in this weather? Could he even manage to do the concert? My wife was calming me down and after lunch I was getting crazy. We left home around 4 o´clock to go to a pub, “just like the old days we needed to set the mood”. The Rock For People festival was just about MOTÖRHEAD concert for us and other bands were not important. We sat, talked, laughed. Then we went to the areal. I don´t want to review the building, personally I would preferred something different, but what the hell. The beer was cold and there was a line so long. And then we just waited nervously. Forty years on the music scene, countless number of albums, an endless series of hits. The legend. The idol. The musical God. I couldn´t wait. He time suddenly stopped and the circle was fulfilled.

We enjoyed the concert so much with my wife. I was emotional. I experienced the concert so passionately and till today we talk about it with my wife. It was such a personal experience.

The present.

I have to admit that Lemmy is like and icon for me. A person who I look up to in music and humanly. I like when people say thing how they are and I like when men are personalities. I hate to see my favourite guy fighting the age and health. Some of his statements are just an old man´s screams, sometimes it might be embarrassing but I just always have to remember what we “experienced together” and I have to smile. I don´t want to think about when will Lemmy leave the world and I don´t want to imagine how the world is going to be “after Lemmy”. Well nothing will probably happen, you can´t stop the time but still for me he will always be one of the biggest musicians and men I have ever met. Amen. Victory or Die!

December the 28th, 2015

I was in the mountains, cut off from any information. Yet, thanks to SMS from my friend I knew that Lemmy passed away. My head just switched in some weird mode and I was out for the whole day. We were climbing hills and I was just looking to the distance and thinking about the amazing experiences we had with MOTÖRHEAD. It hurts when your favourite band leaves. A lot. I didn´t even expect that. It was getting dark and I came out of the cottage. I took a bottle of plum brandy and a bottle of beer and I was getting drunk into a nothingness. “What the hell are you doing?”: my wife woke me up when the weather was minus 6 degrees. I was sleeping on a meadow covered with frost. “Do you want to be ill?”: she added sadly and I just nodded my head with sadness. So I went to bed with the feeling of having this day always written inside of me as an absolute essence of sadness. Not even one of my music gods died but a huge piece of rock´n´roll was dead.

December the 31st, 2015

I still couldn´t get over it. All the way to Pilsen I was playing all the CDs I had in my car. I just wanted to be alone. Cut myself from everything and just drink and listen. No words are needed. I just want to say one thing: Thank you, Lemmy it was an incredible ride!

The twenty-fifth tale – Sabbath, dude!

I stood in the hallway of our Secondary Agricultural School, eating my snack. Someone invented a new command that we have to go in circle during breaks between classes. The disadvantage was that there was no time for food from home. Some of us just ate while walking, I was never able to do that. I found a spot next to the stairs where I was hidden from the patrolling bands (our dear teachers). I was peeling off the hundred years painting with my nails and suddenly I realized that something was written there. I was incredibly impressed by it and I rub my fingers to the blood almost. “Well what are you doing here?”: said someone behind me and I jumped. It was one of our teachers. He had a few nicknames, but “asshole” was probably the most suitable one. He made us stood for 3 hours while he was talking some shits on workshop classes. He never taught us anything. Some people even said that he was gay but he never tried anything on me, maybe I just wasn´t his type.

With an apology I run away but I was still wondering. What was it? The next day I voluntarily didn´t participate in the circling around the hallways and I even took a small knife. After a few moments of tension I discovered the words” Sabbath, dude!”. Apparantely some of my predecessors immortalized it there. I knew about this band from my parent´s vinyl but for me at that time it was a music for old people. But as you know the God has his own ways of destiny and this small sign on the wall created my addiction for life. I called Kytka immediately, he thought that I was crazy and that I was like his father. We went to the Germany with my parents, just a few miles from boarders. My father solemnly pulled out his wallet and gave me and my brother each a few hardly exchanged marks. Mom headed me to the racks with clothes, but I escaped and suddenly I stood above a basket with sales. I clearly remember there was a few CDs by Karel Gott. I was rummaging for a moment but suddenly I discovered a compilation of the Black Sabbath´s biggest hits. My mom was not impressed, but my father nodded his head with an approval.

The interesting thing was that I had nothing to play the CD in. We had only a turntable and tape recorder. So it took a few months until I had an immortal recorder Technics – one of the best devices I have ever had. The builder and creator is none other than my friend from the gas factory with a convenient nickname Sabbath. And suddenly I was in the digital age. One slot for CD, on the top there was a LP player and in the middle two slots for cassettes. I was like a technological demigod and the whole group jealous. I played everything for everyone and I was getting more and more unpopular at my home because of the noise. Someone even put a threat note on our door with a crayon. I was scrubbing it the whole day but it just wake up more and more passion for bigger portion of music in me. I didn´t even perceive the knocking on our walls by our neighbours.

And because the CD made me famous I had to make copies for all of my friends. A month went by and people only talked about Sabbath. Even one time Kytka´s father was outside walking the dog with his son and he felt so good while telling us all the details about this band till the night. He was bald, had a tic in his eye but in the half-light of the nearby suburbs he was like a hero from the old days for us. We had to change the greeting from “Metal!” to “Sabbath, dude!” which stacked with us for a long time. The interesting thing was that we knew the band for a while but we had no idea about their music whatsoever. We were thrashers and this music was too slow for us. But good music will find its way. Just like always.

I came back to the incredible camp so called high school after years. I was walking through the hallways and thinking about trying to get pass through the things I experienced there. The tour direction avoided the places I felt good enough for a while. So I broke away from the tour and went down to the workshops a few steps from my locker where still was the Slayer sign. I wonder if anyone will notice it after all those years. We´ll see.

The twenty-sixth tale – We own this world!

 I picked up Kytka in front of the school but it was worse with Prcalík. We met hit just standing behind the fence on his masonry practice. He hang himself on the fence and yelled that he was in a working camp. So we had to wait for our friend again. We went to his home, ate something and our colleague Prcalík took an enormous portable tape recorder on his shoulders. He played the new Slayer while we were walking to the panels. I felt a little uncomfortable because it was very loud. But thanks to the loudness there are denim-jacket creatures climbing out of the panel houses´ doors. “Hiiii, metaaaal dude!” yelled someone behind us. Other and other longhair dudes. I was going in the front line and felt like a boss of a gang. I was wearing a new Motörhead T-Shirt.

We stopped by the last house. All of us as one man were yelling “Janaaaaa, Janaaaa, we are here!” Our nice and beautiful colleague peeked out of the window. She was obviously at shower which made us even more excited about seeing her. So we waited for her in front of the building. Some neighbour yelled at us and we had to snarl at one men who started to explain how young people should behave. Prcalík told him that if he continued, we would transformed into a Pioneers. And Kytka told him to go fuck himself. So after a while he went to the Družstevník store in the end of the city. Beyond that was just nature, fields and forests. It was great. Once I found a hole in the fence by accident. We were taking (stealing) empty beer bottles and returning them to the same store all the time.

With the money we were buying the Klášter beer, Slovácké slunce which was a disgusting wine but we had duck´s gizzards so we were able to handle everything. It was Friday which meant party. We didn´t have money for the better pubs so we were outside. Hardy, enthusiastic, full of joy. We sat down on the pile of panels and talked about new music stuff. We were planning new concert journeys. We owned the world at that time. I felt the incredible power of youth, energy. Girls were beautiful, guys were cruel as knifes.  Right next to our trio there was a fight among the new-come people. Someone destroyed the other one´s favourite S.D.I. One punch next to another. It looked like an implacable hatred. We just sat and looked. We knew that it would sort itself. Which was exactly what happened and the ones who were enemies a minute ago, were drinking beer together.

I turn on the volume on Prcalík´s tape recorder and I yelled “S.D.I…Megamosh”. A few people stood up and waving their heads, twisting their hair and spinning around in the meadow (we had no idea that it was called mosh-pit). The rest was doing the same thing slowly and finally everybody was yelling. Jesus, what a power. Jana was pressing me against her, Kytka jumped to Prcalík´s shoulders and when the song was over there were like 30 people lying on the ground. The joy reached its peak. We were out of our schools, worries, dilapidated families. The coldness of settlement and coming autumn was not that strong suddenly. Just for a moment we had a feeling that we belonged somewhere. Who cares that the next day most of us went to the factory for work and others had a brigades. Now, we were happy.

Around midnight all the batteries run down in the tape recorder. It was dark and above the panels were floating the embers of cigarettes like fireflies. Someone burped loudly and some girl screamed that she didn´t want anyone to touch her at the forbidden places. I was slowly standing up. I was tired but happy. I took Jana and went with her in front of her house. Her eyes were shining like two lamps. She took a cigarette before bed and I went home. I just turn for the last time and I put my denim jacket higher to my neck. It was so cold.

The twenty-seventh tale – The best band in the world is called Big Foot

Once again Prcalík had this idea of starting a band. We didn´t really care because we knew that it was always the same. It always ended with choosing the right name. But this time, it was different. Kytka just had some money from his grandmother, I just get paid from my brigade so everything seemed to be right this time. I grieved my neighbours with the bass I got. I was not really good, but the effort was huge. We were lack of material for a studio and especially some space. We usually drank in the garage. There was too many of us. Finally we found a rehearsal room in the gas factory by Sabbath. We covered the walls with salaries from eggs, we were endlessly breathing the moist underground air. But I quit playing when Prcalík locked me by an accident for several hours behind the armoured doors without any beer or food.

But this time everyone´s plans were different. They were going to do concerts in the garage (and in the pub next do the garage called Na Rychtě) which were discussed for a several months. It sounded crazy, but who cares? Even Mára joined us and he became the only one having a musical education. And today he is highly requested drummer, not only rock but also studio drummer. This guy is bold has an unbelievable energy and conviction. There was nothing more you could have squeezed from us but we were not completely wasting too. For me the one bright moments was the one night when a “real” Sabbath drummer came to the garage and he said I was good because I was able to keep the rhythm. I was so happy that I went to the studio even more and practice so much that my fingers were bleeding.

We recorded our first and last record called “Vomiting moon”. A demo with a horrible sound was shared like a plague and thanks to constant copying it was changed into a cassette which sounded like a record of a fan going on in a nearby factory. But for our friends and supporters we were the best band ever. Unfortunately, Prcalík as a band-master recorded the new KING DIAMOND album on our record. We were trying to find our tape around our friends. Mára left the band because he found his love to jazz music and the rest of us rather talked about music that played. It was great to try how was it to be a musician at least for a few months, but we didn´t have the patience, self-denial and especially none of us wanted to be a leader, organizer. Someone could say that we were ones of the thousands, however we were one of the first ones as trashers.  Well, if we can even call it the thrash.

It´s interesting that the only thing that is left after this band which was previously sentenced to death, was the story about its name. It was called Big Foot after one warm evening when we were camping and drunk by Máchovo Lake. Someone decided to jump in the water naked, so we all did it. Suddenly, there was a woman volleyball team, there were like 20 of them and we were too shy to go out. One of them, a small girl went to our clothes and above my shoes she said that she would like to meet this guy because he was a very heavy Big Foot. I was so happy and wanted to run out of the water so I could introduce myself, but Prcalík grabbed my hand and convinced me that the cold water did a lot to my body and they would laughed at me.

The girls left and we just have this story. The name Big Foot was obvious as a band name. After we broke the band no one talked about us anymore. There were so much other new and more conscientious bands and everything disappeared. For us, it was a great experience and incredible fun.
The twenty-eighth tale - A bucket full of vomit….

I woke up and from the corner of my eye I saw my aunt above me. I vaguely remember that I promised my friends to take them to our cottage in the Jizerské Mountains. I was laying in my bed with two girls, all of us were naked and my aunt was so angry and went crazy like the Kálí Goddes: “What the hell is in the bucket, for God´s sake?”: she asked. There was Prcalík in the corner of the room covered in his sleeping bag and after a cute introduction of himself he started to explain to my aunt that it is the neighbour´s car oil. He was so convinced that my poor aunt would believe him. Well, what an experience. It started on Friday afternoon, we went by train. With a record player and backpack full of hotdogs. Only Jana prepared Schnitzels which we already ate like 5 minutes after we left Boleslav. We were in Jablonec around 5 o´clock. We went to the pub called By Zebra and it was crazy there.

Prcalík was trying to hook up with the local girls, one of them called her brother who came with a tractor and took our bags right on our cottage. But we weren´t there for a long time, we came back to the pub. That evening the band V.A.R had a concert there. And the massacre began. Kytka, who was at that time dressed as an intellectual, jumped to a fountain and tried to swim across in 8 o´clock. The Jablonec´s metal fans who probably didn´t see anything like us before were smiling the whole time and thought we were so cool. I had the climbing years so I was showing everyone my latest number. A hip-swing on the top of a street lamp. Prcalík commented the whole situation from the bottom and said I looked like a pigeon – that I was going to shit on some statue. After that we sucked up the fresh mountain air and went to the cultural house to see the concert. People said that there are long lines at the entrance.  

Jana begged us for taking care of here because the local boys were too wild that day. Even at the entrance I had to hold one guy by his throat. He didn´t responded on any of Jana´s rejections and he was not from our gang. V.A.R started slowly on the stage and met a few people by the bar. Of course I invited everyone to go to our cottage. They agreed and after the concert there was a lot of people ready to go. While we were walking someone shouted that there was a non-stop shop by the train station and we had to go some supplies. It was still Friday. So we went to the shop to buy a lot of beers and alcohol. Some of the people had a trolley. So there was a big amount of people in denim jackets walking up to the cottage.

In the forest there were heard some dirty words. Prcalík leaded and he gave the dirty words a different perspective. I was even wondering for a moment what some of those words meant? Each of us, without any exception, felt down over stumps, stones and turfs and we had to convince Jane that she didn´t exceed a vicious root. Finally, the cottage. Although we woke up a half of the mountain village I am sure our neighbours were OK with it and they did forgive us. We sat down in a circle on our perfectly moaned English lawn and we started to drink. Then, everything is like in a fog and everything I know is from the stories other people told me. They said that I shouted from an air gun to neighbour´s hen and I was screaming that I don´t want my eyes to be pecked out. And I was kissing two girls at once and told them that I was a landlord and that it was our good manner.

In the morning we went to Jablonec and back to the cottage. Then, another morning and my nice aunt. Till this day I don´t understand how could we slept by listening the new Megadeth. After that there was a lot of talking and pontificating from my aunt which was for a group of teenagers more fun than a threat. We were cleaning the cottage the whole Sunday, we planted a lot of bushes which we previously kicked off the ground, and I repaired the door which were kicked out of the hinges and I tried to apologize for Prcalík´s axe jammed into the privy. One girl´s father came by car to take her with a loaded gun in his hand. I tried to explain that after that much alcohol, no one was able to do anything to his daughter to make her a woman. Finally, he slapped me and sat angrily in his car with crying long-hair girl and left. So the Jizerský alcoholic rumble was coming to its end.

Every time I go with this survival bucket, which was the only witness of this unreal party, to get water I always remember this story. I even wanted to take it to Pilsen so it could remind me my youth. Where are those days of world records when person was able to drink two days in a row and drank two beers in an hour?

The twenty-ninth tale – People always dance till the morning on Rychta…

It was a really close from the garage to the Rychta pub. We just finished our first and last demo and we had to go to celebrate. We wanted to go to the city, to the pub by an Oak. But the thirst was so great that we were able to even drink Staropramen beer. Prcalík was already sitting next to a girl and he told her such bullshits that we had to laugh. Suddenly there were a few of her friends and I found out that they were from the school for nurses. Great. We worked with them at school and it was a great option to make a conversation with them. We were telling them that we were so cool because we were musicians. Kytka showed some of his legendary moves like he was playing the guitar. The rest of us called it the “fucking giraffe style”, but we didn´t tell him that for a long time.

We went there just when there were the rock hits playing. So we danced, or better – Prcalík danced and thanks to the fact that he was really small we controlled all of his muscles. I and Kytka looked more like small horses. Hand there, leg here, long hair and our Adam’s apples were very big. We had a reason to celebrate so someone ordered Fernet shots. It was crazy. I remember that at one point Kytka was dancing on a table, jumped and he broke the big oak table with his head. Well, drunk people are lucky so he had only one big lump. I looked on a small black haired girl and I looked on her breasts the whole evening. She was smiling the whole night and asked me what my name was. I told her that my name was Karel and we danced together slowly till the morning. Even outside, walking through Boleslav in the night. I am not going to talk about other things which men and women do together but she was so nice that she walked with me to the main gate in Skoda factory. And I spend another 12 hours working, there.

We worked in the “dryers”. They were a big tin rooms where car bodies were drying after painting. There was a smell and rust which we had to clean in even 90 degrees. We were there just in our underwear and went home with burns all over our bodies. That day someone forgot to turn off the thermostat and opened the window, so we worked in Hell. I was removing the dirt from the walls, breathed the stale colour into my lungs and was angry as fuck. I had our first demo in my backpack so I persuaded the master to turn it on. So in the metal hall there was playing our product, something we created by ourselves. Tire, burned, thirsty and with cooked brain. But suddenly that was the time I realized that it was real. After years of talking, endless debates, I finally had something which I was proud of. I would probably laughed if I heard it today, but at that time it was a great success for a young trasher like me.
We even played a few times on Rychta. Because bartender was Kytka father´s friend so it was easy. It was not very successful because unlike the garage there were a lot of people who didn´t know us. But the biggest memory we have was when we were playing before Visací Zámek (Czech punk band) who came there totally drunk. No one cared about us but at that time it was a great experience for us. After that we went a lot to Rychta pub. Even after our band didn´t existed. But every time we danced till the morning.

The thirtieth tale – When the world turns into a shit.

Míra was a weirdo right since he entered our group. He had such a dreamy look of a raven, a wide insight about black music and he had pet snakes. Poisonous, badass monsters. But most important is that Míra was a good looking guy. He had black hair, long hair and all the girls go crazy for these types. We liked to go to pubs with him, on concerts but even just to talk while talking around the city. There was a group of girls every time around him and he just chose the most beautiful of them and the rest glean. Míra was an artist. He painted such beautiful pictures. At the beginning he did it just for himself, then for us and in the end he commute to Prague for courses. He had such talent. Unfortunately, it happens and his demons caught him. For an unknown reason his style started to make him crazy.

I exactly remember the day our girl-friend brought him to the panels. “Who the hell is that, some freak right?”: was Prcalík´s first words for this guy´s group interview. We were just sitting and talking about the immortality of Chirst and now this. Míra was wearing tails and top hat. Which was very extravagant even for us, the crazy guys. Then he spoke out loud. He talked with standard pronunciation, with a certain arrogance – just the way nobles people talk to their servants. I was allergic to him immediately. That was not the type for or gang. We basically told him to go fuck himself. He came to us like five times and one time he was not able to recognize Overkill during the entering ritual and Prcalík told him solemnly that if he came again, we would kick his ass. And he came back the next day. We appreciated his endurance and our girls pushed us to take him in our gang. The girls were a real amazons and they always get what they wanted.

And then there was a several years happening when we were getting used to his way of talking, acting and behaviour. Although Prcalík and Kytka always thought he was more like a second-class member of our group, we were with him almost every day and we just took him in the way he was. We appreciated the way he caught attention of a girl and we dealt some jobs for him in the local clubs, rehearsal rooms and private flats where he painted the walls.  Míra didn´t really like trash but he told us everything he knew about black music. Till this day I truly believe that this unfortunate man was supposed to be born in Norway and many things might have been different. Everything else was working out with a symbiosis and peace. His manifestations were legendary. He was always drunk, stood on some elevated seat and spoke like the biggest Greek orator. But still, I just had a feeling that something was not right with him and he was sad and full of troubles inside of him. Then one day when he was leaving his part time job (he was dragging heavy pieces of iron to a scrapyard) he fell down of tiredness and alcohol, fell asleep and his right hand froze all over and doctors had to amputate his entire wrist.

Since that he was not able to paint and he just languished. He was vanishing. When I met him we just said a few words to each other, but there was not the energy it used to be. He lived a few flats from me in his parent´s apartment. He was wearing the flat hat for many years and he was walking like a quiet, complaining conscience. His damaged hand was always hidden under his coat. He was an Adonis, the dream men of all the girls and women and he changed into an ashy skeleton. He was not screaming, just whispering. One day, when I was almost finished with my high school I saw black cars in front of his building. Two funeral vans and snake trapping company car. Míra let his snakes go and they bit him to death. Unfortunately I was there right when they carried him outside. Under the shiny plastic bag was a small pile of our talented friend. My world turned into a shit for a few months for me. To Míra´s honour I turned to black metal craziness. I wanted to be a black raven so much.

The thirty-first tale – The pain

I was finishing my homework, listening to the new album by Candelmass on my Walkman. There was a slight depression going around me. I was 16 years old and sometimes I felt I´d seen too much of life. I stood up by the table and went down the street in the dark. It was autumn and the dark was there early. I heard someone yelling on their kids and I shivered in cold. I saw the scared eyes in the dark and I was listening to the settlement´s sounds. I could have seen my breath. I was looking forward for this date. It was probably the first time some girl was in love with me and I was not. I was going through puberty, full of testosterone and confusion. I waited for Kačenka in front of the building where she lived. She was skinny, sometimes I thought she was too skinny and she looked at me with the dog eyes. Shit, I don´t have nerves to do this. When she came from the building to the light I saw a big black eye on her face.   

“What the hell happened to you?”: I asked but I was not really expecting any answer. Her father, otherwise famous Boleslav´s THE DOCTOR, the respected person. He was an asshole at home. I didn´t understand how someone who signed the Hippocratic oath and was smiling like an angel all the time he was on public could have been such sadistic monster. Kačenka, beautiful, fragile, delicate girl was crying again. I didn´t know what to say, but I wanted to help her so much. I was raised to be a justice person, to deal with such disgusting things as a man and I was so angry and the pure hate was going around my veins. I had to do something. We walked through the quiet city and went to get the others. Prcalík told jokes, Kačenka was smiling again, finally. Although her smile was sad and quiet. We sat on the panels and talked about the new Kreator´s album. And we all felt good suddenly. I was pressing my shoulders against my girlfriend’s shoulders from a pity and I didn’t had the courage to break up with her.

Kytka came from the forest path, smoked like a factory and he was singing something from Slayer. He was not able to sing but it was more like a wheezing of an old coughing engine. But overall, it was suitable for that day´s mood. We talked, someone grabbed a beer and finally we had some warmness in our bodies. And it was evening again and I was acting like a gentleman. I went with Kačka in front of her house. I saw the fear in her eyes since she was scared to go to the hell again. She turned to me and I saw her dark blue eyes wet from tears and pain. She was whispering how much she loved me. I touched her cheeks. I don´t have nerves for this. Suddenly she turned away from me and coughed a long clots of blood. “Oh my god!”: I yelled for a thousand times that day. I supported her and prayed for her mom to be at home. She was not. Her father was smiling like the emissary of the hell itself, obsessively, disgustingly. Then he realized I knew everything and hissed at me: “I´ll get to you someday, too.”

We ran through the dark city, the leaves were rustling under our legs and I was so scared. I didn´t know what to do, I was confused. Kačenka felt down on the grass next to a metal and rusty children´s monkey bar. I hold her up and carried her to the hospital under the light of flickering streets lamps. My back was burning, I was not even able to breathe properly. Finally we were there. I stayed in the waiting room, wet, sweaty and shivering. The doctor from emergency room looked at me: “Are you a relative?” he asked. “No, I am not.”: I answered sadly. He looked at me with a weird look. And I realized. He thought it was me who did it to her! I was trying to explain it to him. Meanwhile we were walking to see Kačenka. She was asleep like an enchanted princes. She was so skinny. I was scared again. The doctor was scratching his head and finally he realized. Of course he knew her father but he couldn´t have believed it. My girlfriend´s body was full of bruises, stains from cigarette burns. I wanted to vomit and I did. I blamed myself for not sleeping with her when she wanted to. I would have seen this monster’s act earlier. I sat by myself and after a while I had no tears left.

I sat and wait, watching black and white clock on the wall and counted every single second. In the next room was some machine beeping and a kid crying. It was half past four in the morning and police came. The doctor told me that everything had been fine. I saw the whole day in front of me and I felt on the older and very nice nurse. She handed me a tissue and talked to me until I fell asleep. I feel that everything what went wrong was good again. My parents came. They were terrified and took me home. I had some pills for calming me down. I slept for two days in a row. I came to Kačenka in the afternoon. She was beautiful in the white pyjamas, like a real angel. I touched her hand I tried to raise her mood up. I did it and she was waving at me from the grey hospital´s window. I was in a good mood, finally. I even hummed some song. Suddenly, someone punched me from the back on my neck. I fell down and hit my face. I swallowed pieces of asphalt.

The doctor, father who should have been killed when he was born, stood above my body and I thought to myself that it was my last time on earth. I was going to die. Then I felt such anger. I have no idea what happened next. I saw nothing for a while and I punched this motherfucker in his leg. He howled. Meanwhile I stood up and did my job. That was not a fight, it was not a fight between two friends. For me that was a massacre. I was punching him in his face, I kicked around me. I showed my teeth. He was heavier and stronger, but he was probably bewildered by my anger. After a while he was laying on the ground and I knew that if I punched him one more time there will be no music any more, nothing. Self-preservation feeling switched on. Sometimes I ask myself what would happened if it was the other way around, but it was a long time ago and it doesn´t matter anymore. I felt down next to this pieces of human shit. I needed to breathe.

I stood up, called an ambulance from the nearby phone booth and we went to the same hospital as few days ago. The same doctor was there. He just nodded his head to greet me and asked what happened. He wrote a report and then it was quiet. Kačenka´s father had to deal with a suit, there was something about her mother also. When everything appeared I was terrified. The poor girl. Oh my god! (for how many times?). So much pain that was enough for her to handle. None can handle this much pain. That was what I told to myself all the time! She was in hospitals for months. I visited her, gave her hope although I probably knew we were going to broke up in the end. I was a hero in our group. (Prcalík told me I had been like an Old Shaterhand, but the others looked at him angrily and Jana was crying so much). My parents were angry at me and I was hoping for the best.

And the best came, surprisingly. I and Kačenka broke up but he dated another guy (by the way he was from our group) and they are together till today. There is some justice after all, right? Maybe the world is not that bad place to live. That´s what I told to myself every time I see her. This beautiful lady (still with a princess face) is glowing now. We just say a few words to each other because none of us wants to share the old pain we have. And there was a lot of pain in the past. Thank God that sometimes the forgiveness covers it all.

The thirty-second tale – Thrash dogs

Only four of us from our group had a dog. Guys had one German shepherd, one boxer terrier and one big strange dog breed. An unbelievable dog. He was such fighter and his moustache was messy all the time. I took him to the park close to my house every day. We hanged out there with the guys and talked about music and girls and the dogs were running around. Sometimes some dogs had a fight, just like we did but any of them never provoke something for no reason. We felt good sitting behind the city on the panels. The dogs were running in circles all the time and we were breathing out big clouds of smoke. We all knew that that group was something which would never happen again.

I don´t understand how the mutual symbiosis cold have worked. Each of us was totally different. Some were angry, some energetic, some were the thoughtful intellectuals. And there were girls too and I don´t understand them till this day. It was not comfortable with us for them (unlike if they were with some disco lovers) we had bad jokes and lack of money. Everything we earned in summer jobs and part time jobs we spent for cassettes, CDs, concerts and a tons of beers. There was no leader, no looser. Everything just worked out somehow. Just like someone would brought to live the stupidest communism. It was about trust, support and doing things how we wanted to. It was not ideal but it was just lovely.

I was thinking a lot about what was the biggest cement which held us together and I think it was the music. All of the decibels and discovering new bands was holding us together and gave us power. We didn´t ask “how are you” when we saw each other we rather asked about something new about trash. For example, I had one of the most beautiful and cool denim jackets. And when I was at school and had practical lessons I tried for like an hour to put twine through a needle. Everyone helped me. The guys were tacking but mostly girls who decided to make me a nicely clothed guy.

Everything had such great enthusiastic mood. There was no one was bitching or complaining all the time. And believe me, there was a lot of us who had their own problems. We had broken families, alcoholic fathers, mothers who were never supposed to be mothers.

The trash dogs were, like us, a weird phenomenon. Although they barked sometimes he just somehow agreed that they were a group which was pushed away from the city, away from all of the concrete, nervous parents and stupid crowd. There was a negative side about it, obviously. Some people looked at us as we were pariah, rabble, but after a while they get used to us. In the end everyone realized that we are just having fun. We were so good that we even had voluntary services to clean up after us on the panels before we went home. And when there was a mess one morning and some men who was walking his dog found it, we examined the case by ourselves. When we found the offender we kicked his ass. Maybe all of this was just because of the freshly born democracy, I don´t know. Anyway, that I have never had anything like that anymore.

The trash dogs were so strong at that time. I am so glad I was part of it. After all, what is better than a group of people who act nicely to each other, are honest, sincere and no one is hurting or bullied? Maybe, I was not the most saint person and I swore a lot but the boys were more men than people I meet today. And the girls? The nice and rough girls? I don´t have to say anything. They were the black and blue fairies and many of them had been probably declared as saints at that time. It was a strange era. On the one hand it was socialistic and grey like the panels. On the other hand it was friendlier, full of great people, personalities and trash mood. Yes, when you are young you idealize your experiences, but this was different.

The trash dogs were like us and they defied from the outside world. The youth created its oasis of peace a right behind the city. By the forest, plains with protected species of rare grasses and our hearts. Every time I go near those places (the panels are not there anymore) I feel joy in my veins. Some of us had smile on their faces only when they were on the panels. I am stepping carefully on the subsoil turf and I had such energy in my legs. I am turning my head against the wind and I am drawing faces of my past comrades on the sky. I am nostalgic, like an old lady. Around me there are people walking their dogs. But they are attached to the leashes. No freedom. I am leaving and I am ordering a beer in a pub nearby. Everyone looks at me like I am crazy. I must look like I just saw ghosts.

The thirty-third tale – The endless desire

 I really liked her. And everyone told me she was not for me. She was from the city, from the residential area. She had beautiful long hair and the slightly turned up nose. Although Prcalík claimed that he knew her from the primary school and that even than she was a bitch, I was crazy about her. I tried to go with her to her doors a few times. She looked at me like I was a servant and she shot the door of their enormous house. I started to believe Prcalík and endlessly struggled to imagine being with her and doing nice things together. The things people do together and talk about it a lot. And then she succumbed.

Perhaps she just wanted to go down from the cloud her parents made for her and she wanted to do something forbidden. She talked to me on a volleyball match and told me to walk with her to her door. I bet you know about the old trick – you talk to the girl the whole night all the funny stories, then you show her stars, the girl has her head facing up so the young Kuba just take a chance a kiss her. It would be great, if only I didn´t do it right at their door and her father didn´t see me. But he saw me. He ran out of their house and then this former member of cooperative board of the Škoda chased me down the streets like a goat. I ran fast although I was still red from the tension and eroticism. He yelled something behind me about vermin and how he didn´t raised his daughter for some piece of dirt and other beautiful things. If he even knew what he did by saying that.

We dated secretly and it was mysterious and thrilling. The miss was looking for excuses, went on concerts with me, in the cottage. I was so proud. I was not good looking, had glasses and was really skinny guy and had one of the most beautiful girls from the whole city. A few guys from our gang didn´t talk to me and others were speechless when I came somewhere with her. My star´s name was Klára and she showed me what beautiful women can do. It was nice, but after a while the first excitement was gone and I realized she tried to change me, shape me and create someone else. And I tried something I had never tried before. I broke up with her. She cried, was angry and she even sent her girl friend to me but I resisted. I finally realized that our origins and hobbies were so different that it could have been very ugly after a long period of time.

Klárka was OK and she disappeared from me for a while. Then one day I was randomly refuelling at the local petrol station near Mladá Boleslav. And she talked to me. She asked what I was doing, how was I and so on. So I told her the short version of my life and then I politely asked her about her life. She answered that she had been selling herself there. I realized that, jumped in my car and left. I could have seen her exhausted and haggard face in my back mirror for a long time after that. I thought to myself how someone so fragile could have become a whore? But then I realized that it was in her since the beginning. I just didn´t see it since I was a young boy full of endless desire.

The thirty-fourth tale – Blame everything on Saxon!

When you brought a music which was not played in the similar (our) style into our trashy animalistic group, it was like throwing pork at vegans. Usually no one listened to me then. I have always loved to discover something new, some band which was unknown for me. I brought SAXON on the panels and I don´t care what you thing. I did and that is the truth. I remember the moment. There was some long-haired dude on the part time job with me and while we were cleaning the old dried paint from canals under the painting hall in Škoda in Boleslav. He talked about these British all the time. I thought he was crazy and he had a bread, omelette and mustard for his lunch which was prepared by his mother.

 I walked slowly, enjoying the beautiful summer day. I walked to a different place rather than the panels. I had a cassette “Solid Ball of Rock” by Ast Records in my pocket. I told everyone for years that it was an original piece. It was not but it was very expensive so I think that is an apology. “No, I would not turn this on, that is heavy and we are trashers”: Prcalík refused to put my cassette into his recorder. I was offended and waited for everyone to go away. It was getting dark and there was a sunset happening by the Michalovická tub right in the Jizera River. Red, pleasantly warm. Jana cuddled with me and asked me to play the cassette for her.

“Solid ball of rock, solid ball of rock, solid ball of rock crashing out of the sky…”: the music was sprawling around the countryside and I realized I was in some weird high like with the trash bands. Jana told me I looked like a just saw the Virgin Mary. It was very similar. Another love of my life was born that day. The old mouldy long-hair dude who was drunk all the time and was lazy as hell was right when he talked about it in the canal! I ran to the factory the next day to tell him that but he left to Slovakia. I have never seen him again, but Saxon will stay. So I filled my collection with another Polish cassettes and we had some great moments together. 

“Dude, do you have a cassette which girls would like?”: asked Kytka a few days after. Automatically, I gave him the Saxon which I pre-recorded. I was like a publicity officer – when I like a band I just made a few copies and gave it to the others. Some people liked it, some didn´t but we had something in our hands. The others did the same but to be honest I was the biggest copier. “It works!!!!!” yelled Kytka from his balcony that night. I just had some nice moments with a girl. I nodded my head appreciatively and I met his new girlfriend. Mirka had the scared-all-the-time look on her face. But she was very nice and should would kill someone for us. I was curious about it and for a while I tried to get girls like that. And it worked! There was a lot of theme who were scared to death while listening to my music – for example while listening to Sodom one of them was terrified and some told me I am an animal, one of them thought I was a murderer. But Saxon was the exact opposite.  There is something noble and reassuring about them. And the girls were more tractable after that.

Just like any other young guys I was happy around girls. I like to hang out with them, hitting on them and showed up. Some people gave me a nickname “boar”. But I was obviously innocent and I blamed everything on Saxon. 


The thirty-fifth tale – The factory is beautiful

It was half past three in the morning and I was standing knee-deep in the canal. We were on our brigade with the guys. Every time when Prcalík threw a shovel of a dried paint into the hand-barrow and flashed his headlamp on me, he said “fuck”. Kytka counted angrily all the times he said that and he stopped with the number 1584 and said him to go fuck himself. Otherwise he would kill him with the shovel. This was I had been doing during the weekends for two months already. It was Kytka´s first week and Prcalík´s first day. We numbed, our arms and legs hurt but mostly our backs. Prcalík was small and he was OK when he could just bends down. But me and Kytka were tall. It was like in a working camp that was a work done by prisoners in the past but then it was the revolution, privatization and we were working like slaves for some slave owner. He was our boss and he was an ugly man. Fat, stupid and disgusting. But what can you do we just had to do something to pay for our musical instruments.

I was barking blood because they made me change the glass wool filters. Although I had a respirator I was choking on in it. I was only thinking about the musical instruments shop and my dreamy beautiful bass guitar Hohner. She was smiling at me, attracting me. I was not able to sleep because of her. And I worked so hard, we didn´t even drink beer that much. Wish is a slave of an idea. We were in this together and we were excited like kittens when you give them a ball of wool. However, there was a big difference – this was something which was probably killing us (if even I knew at that time what will happen in the future, I would whip Kytka out of the canal). There was only chemistry and fizzing fans around us. The night guard was walking slowly around, whisper, and turn on halogens in huge lights so we were able to see at least something. “Shit, I can´t do this”: screamed Prcalík in the silent underground rooms. He was not exactly the one who was used to be disciplined. He sat on a bucket and fell asleep in a few seconds. We did his work and we didn´t even notice that there was our boss behind a pillar watching us. He put some notes in his notebook like a real prison guard.

I didn´t want to woke up the next morning, didn´t want to do anything. It was Monday and we had school. I fell asleep on the desk in the classroom and was cautioned repeatedly. I stumbled a few times during the PE class and feel down right on my face. I still dreamed about my Hohner girl, I saw myself standing on a stage and casually touching the strings and girls were falling down in front of me. And then there was the weekend again and we went to the canals, again. I had green hair because that week they sprayed the green paint in the paint shop. I looked like a kelpie. Jana threw a cassette recorder over the fence for us and we send her an imaginary kiss from our hands and we all loved her so much right then. We sat in the middle of the big hall, upstairs above the canals and we turn on some “Season in the Abyss”. New energy entered our veins and our power trooper’s trio descended into the ground with this song on our lips.

We were screaming the whole night, during the 12 hours. There was nothing around the hall, just a field and nothing else so our scream was heard all around the countryside. We were like dug soldiers, strong and crazy in their fantasies. We argued about what to buy, where to go, how many cassettes. In the end it was not that amazing because our boss took out his notebook and he held our money. Although we were young and sassy, we couldn´t have done anything about this. Prcalík was angry after the payday and he said that it had been easier to steal the money than work. Even though he was not serious, our feelings were similar. We went home to change, shower the green paint from our hair and cough the dirt from our throats. I drunk litres of milk like miners do and spit back black wisps of something around me. I just had to. Jana was already waiting for us and that was the day we were ready to be drunk as hell from Klášter beers. In the morning, during the counting of casualties, we found out that we need another thousands to get those instruments. But we didn´t lose our hope because the old friend of ours Sabbath knew what to do with solder and wire. We had the basis and the rest was up to him.

When I walked to the music store after a few weeks my heart almost jumped out of my Slayer T-Shirt. They didn´t have my bass guitar! I almost cried. But I persuaded my father and we went to Prague. They were selling the same model and but no one believed (including me) that I was able to play this instrument. I was so happy almost the same as the time I erotically meet a woman for the first time in the cottage in a hayloft.  My musical carrier was not that great indeed, but when I think about the excitement and atmosphere, the austerity and endless hours in canals I am more happy then sad. I would even say that the factory was metallic beautiful at that time.

The thirty-sixth tale – The last station Railway station Mladá Boleslav

I put my beer on the ceramic coaster. We sat in the railway station with the guys. We just came from the Debustrol concert. It was morning and there were only alcoholics and Mrs. Bartender. I had the greasiest meatloaf and was wondering about my stomach´s feelings. Oddly enough, it started to process the food slowly. Usually I ordered a potato salad in paper and chicken schnitzel or a sausage there. “Dude, what a concert”: stretched himself Prcalík and burped. “Come ooooooon, we are a nice pub”: said someone behind the bar and the waitress moved her breasts towards the pipette. We had another beer and didn´t want to move. Yesterday the party was wild. Mosh-pit, one fight with the locals in Chotětov because they said that I was looking to a local girl. But it was not true, she was hitting on me, not vice versa. Just to clarify. She went to me to ask if I have some time to kill and what do I think about Michal David (Czech pop singer). Well, that was a stupid question so a told her to go something herself. So she left and brought her brother, his friend and another friend and another friend. And then it went on.

“But Debustrol were great, right?”: said Kytka to end our contemplation and he pushed Jana a few inches apart from him to go pee. In a while we saw him urinating on the platform (only Prcalík once ventured to the toilets a long time ago, but he vomited from the smell and we decided to rather go outside, even Jana) off to the side so he didn´t offense anyone. To the pub, this amazing dirty pub, were going night shift workers. They were tired like us. And they wanted a beer. It was clear that since it was Saturday we didn´t have to go anywhere. I ordered one more beer and Jana woke up. She had a big scratch on her forehead because she was dancing below the stage and hit her head into the railing. She had messy hair, was dirty and still looked amazing. It was a long journey from the station to the city centre and we had to go by foot or by bus. Some guy sat next to us, having pieces of food in his beard, his clothes had dirt and ash on it. His look was glassy.

He looked at me and said: “Have you ever seen God?” Then he added that he did, farted and fell asleep on the formica table. I was still hungry. I didn´t eat the whole night so I ordered one salad. The waitress brought it like a sacrament of communion with some bread. It smelled nicely, it was a great meal. I shared it with the others and we agreed that we didn´t feel so great for a long time. Meanwhile our new neighbour woke up: “So? Have you ever seen God?” He asked repeatedly. Jana laughed and Prcalík said something about seeing him in the bottom of woman´s genitals. The gentleman noted his head with a great fart. Jana was no longer laughing but dying with laughter. When I think about it, the pub was unbelievably dirty, smelled like urine and cigarette smoke, the people were weird, the bartender was sassy, but still I felt great there. Like the dirt had its own charm, the unique atmosphere.

Our siesta was interrupted by Kytka who finally remembered that he had to work in his parents´ garden in the afternoon. I had almost the same so we had just another one beer, took Jana and went home. Right after leaving the pub I went for pee. A train came on the railway and someone was waving. I tried to do the same but was scared to pee on my pants. Prcalík laughed and I friendly slapped his shoulder. Pub Railway Station Mladá Boleslav, a dirty place which was blessed by every alcoholics in the city did its purpose. It made us ready for another day.

The thirty-seventh tale – Prcalinda

“Guyyyysss, it looks like Prcalík settled down”: Jana run through a meadow to us laughing as hell. I shook my head in disbelief, some were laughing and though it was a good joke. How could have this guy, who always slept with a girl on the first date, who built his image as a small but clever seducer, settled down? “No, really. He has never said a girl he loved her but now I heard him and he said it to himself…and most importantly, woman can tell”: added our curious girl friend. “Welll, that´s bullshit. She slept with me – I liked it so I will be with her a little bit longer than usual, so what”: said Prcalík behind us and we thought about how this boy could have known that we talked about him. Maybe some kind of telepathy?

But then it was not only “little bit longer”, it was “longer” and we were sitting and staring like calves on the new barn door. Prcalík disappeared for a week, no one saw him, heard from him and we started to worry. He didn´t go to school anymore. Then we saw him. He was going from the forest with this beautiful small black-hair girl and he was holding her hand. “Shit my pants dude, and my chest and my shoes”: said Kytka and Jana added something about miracle and how right she was. She was right indeed. Prcalík, after a long years of sleeping around with girls, found the right girl (which was confirmed after several years of living together, beautiful relationship, one baby and unfortunately bad ending – but we will maybe talk about it next time).

“We are gonna call you Prcalinka, because Ludmila is too weird”: said myself because Ludmila was my neighbour´s name and she bullied us when we were kids. No one protested so our denim jackets group had another member, one of the most beautiful dolls I have ever seen. “Why do you stare at her? I once told myself that I will marry a girl who will drunk me”: said Prcalík when he saw our bewildered faces and how we thought about the beauty of our new friend. The interesting was that it was probably the last time I saw a few women together without gossiping about each other. The girls were great together and she and Jana were like sisters. Maybe Jana needed a girl friend in the group. Who knows? We can´t see in women´s heads.

Prcalinka was and always will be a beautiful female. The introduction continued with crystal clear vodka and Prcalík´s statement: “So she got me”. After that he told us about the week he was gone. A mixture of great amount of alcohol and a lots of wild sex was shimmering inside of him and I won´t rather tell you any details. At that moment all of us blushed. Prcalinka was a swearing and honest soul just like her new partner. She was swearing like hell. I would never say that someone that beautiful and light could say so many “disgusting” words. But she said it with such grace and obviosity that all of us fell in love with her immediately. We suddenly had two Prcalíks in our group and our enthusiasm was endless. I have to admit that with those two and the bottle of vodka we laughed through the whole night.

Often, basically all the time, we saw two people in love around the city. A beautiful girl and young man, both wearing denim jackets. What a cute couple. And around them you could have heart words like: ass, fuck, fucking, shit, bitch. I won’t tell you all the words because both heroes of this tale become parents, employees and even survivors after Prcalík´s death. I have to admit that I a couple which was so different at similar at the same time I saw only a few times in my life. It is a rare situation that there are two people of different sex who fits together so nicely. They were like bolt and nut, a pair of wolves hunting in the night. And if you saw them on a concert or in a tent on a festival you would probably remember them like I do. We just enjoyed being in their presence. Just to meet them and looked at them. So much good energy in them. You just had to get pass the “dirty words”.

This beloved couple loved the German trash metal. Their choreography on concerts could be released as a book of metal choreography. They enjoyed it so much. They did all those push ups, rolls and played with the other one´s hair (with Prcalinka – Prcalík had sidelocks like hell). Their happiness was endless and we were so happy for them. All of us search for the “someone we can live the life with” and they found the person. And their relationship was functional as fuck, as they said. I have to admit that one time I even envy them their relationship. Even Jana when she saw them had the shiny shadow in her eyes. Unfortunately this didn´t last forever. But that is another story and I am not even sure I will get to that.

Prcalinka, Prcalík, shit, thank you so much for everything!

The thirty-eight tale – One wheelchair guy and a great party with The Kripels

Kytka was going form the brigade and he stopped by the pub By an Oak. I just had birthday so I invited my friends and paid for them. We drunk, celebrated and then we left the town by bikes to go to the settlement. But by the railway Kytka reeled up on railing and broke both of his shins. The drunk and fluttering friends put him on their sporty Eska bicycles and get him to the hospital. In the report the doctor wrote that our friend was drunk and on the bike so we had to pay a fee to the police, 500 Czech crowns. Well it was our fault because Prcalík tried to get into the examination room, he kept banging the door and he demanded them to release our friend because he was not going to let him die there. In the end it was me who had to fix everything with my intellectual boy look with my horn-rimmed glasses.

The released or rather threw us away around ten o´clock. We looked like dark shadows of soulless bodies of works from the Škoda factory. Some of us were on bikes, other walked and people asked us about what happened to us. Me and Prcalík went on our metal horses, connected with a wooden stick and we were drag Kytka behind us on a stroller. So I guess we must have looked like crazy people. Behind us there was Jana with her boobs jumping and screaming the famous quote: “On Bělehraaaaad!” We took our friend home and his parents were really angry at us. I don´t blame them but I was angry at them at that time. Because they left Kytka´s broken bicycle with me. Well, what can you do. I brought it to my cellar (I threw it away in 2014). Then I fell asleep.

But Kytka ignored his health conditions and when we were outside and pushing him in his wheel chair he said that the just going to the concert in the Rychta pub. Our friend Croat and his band which sounded a lot like Megadeth performed there and they even knew how to play. It was an obligation. The bad thing was that his parent didn´t allow him to go and we basically had to steal Kytka that day. The plan was clear. Jana thanks to her breasts and eyes lured his father in front of their house and meanwhile me and Prcalík we literally threw Kytka out of the window. He fell from the first floor apartment window directly on the yellow heather and a little bit sideways on his head. Then we threw the wheelchair out of the window and it rang when it hit the clothes knockers. It actually tore some massive lady’s bra (or a parachute or whatever it was). But the Devil did not sleep and Kytka´s father was not stupid and saw thru this plan. He started to chase us around the whole settlement. Eventually, we escaped. Considering we had a guy on a wheelchair who was quite heavy, I can say that his father was not very fit at that time. We were laughing for like an hour because the whole situation looked like some pretty old grotesque.

Then we rode straight to Štěpánka, to the park, along the road. We were already drunk and excited about the concert. The first band playing was supposed to be The Kriples. We greeted all of our friends and sat by the table and Kytka was the star of the evening. He had to show everyone how the wheelchair worked. Meanwhile there was a trio of mongoloid boys on the stage wearing metal clothes. At that time there was nothing like NGOs or programs for integrating disabled people into the society. These guys just went there and did a great mess. They didn´t know how to play, there were only drunk and disturbed individual below the stage but there was no sign of mockery or expressing of stupidity (I can´t imagine it happen today). The Croat had worked as a temp in Kosmonose in a madhouse and all the guys admired him. So they put it together and organized this event.

These three guys were normally chagrined with a blank stare and now they were staying on the stage and had to play more and more songs for us. And then Kytka entered in the middle of the know of people and let them lift him over their heads and they were constantly chanting: “The Kripels, The Kripels…”. Suddenly, Kytka fell down right on his head on the floor and then it was clear who the best performer of the day was. The guys were shining, shaking our hands, just like the real stars which they were at that moment. They were not allowed to drunk (and they didn´t drink, surprisingly and also there was no one giving them drinks) and almost everyone were buying them two red and one orange lemonades (the drummer loved the yellow one and his pestles had the same colour). This trio of mentally disabled friend had the time of their life this time and then we all waited for the Croatians performance. That was obviously good, musically perfect and played nicely. But there was not the excitement among them as it was with the band before.

The music was over but the night was not. Kytka was bringing beer for everyone on his wheelchair and everyone was happy, I guess you can imagine. It was a little bit broken by his father when he “finally” found Kytka and called him asshole. Then there was just the alcoholic routine. I walked with Jana to her home, supported Prcalík´s body and all of us claimed that music is not always about who can compose how many accords but more about the emotions it gives you. The trio of mentally disabled guys were “borrowed” a few times by the Croat since the Kosmonos asked for them. But these people usually don´t live very long, but I think those few events they attended gave them a little bit more to their lives in comparison with what God, genetics and destiny stole from them. After a few first meetings with them we realized that although they were giant and bulky, but at the same time they were kids, playful and nice. And because a lot of us were already over the childhood we were happy to claim that we experienced a lot of funny stories which are being told till this day. At that night, one temporary wheelchair man and madmen from Kosmonos just kicked our asses. And that is for sure.
The thirty-ninth tale – The struck by blind palm

It´s amazing that with that much alcohol and metal I was even able to do sports. The basis (and thanks to the Devil) was obviously the school. My parents took the education of their son very importantly and sport was just always connected to this. During the puberty I didn´t really like football or hockey and then I was not able to do any sports after my operation. So I started to do volleyball. We had courts (and they are still there) right next to the pub Na Rychtě and next to the garage. So quite often I did my push-ups while Prcalík imitated me with friends behind the fence and did some various coupling sounds, laughed at me and just supported me. Our coach was so angry that he sometimes even threw rocks at them. We played two or three times per week and then there was a time for beer. We were obviously going to the closest pub. There was always one guy, hunched with his head slightly to the side.

Mosttly, we were not the type of people who would mock someone or provoke but he just looked like the kind of a guy you like to punch right in the face. Once we were just hanging around and friend-fighting because the guys were laughing at me that I smelled like a polecat. We didn´t have showers on the volleyball court. But there was one push and Prcalík landed on the guy. He howled because right before he fell on the floor this Cookie just passed him with just one move. “ Dude, what was that? Are you some kind of a ninja or something?”: said our friend who was still shaking and tried to look cool. “Don´t touch me and get out”: said this sitting ugly guy and for the first time I saw that one side of his face was paralysed. “Hey, it was nothing against you. Do you want a beer?”: said Prcalík and I was curious about what is going to happen next. On this place, at this time with glasses of beer a great relationship was born. Radek, that was the name of our new member, he even lived next to my building. He walked his dog, a nice crossbreed female dog. When he was young he had polio and two sisters, twins. And most importantly, he had a black karate belt.

We sat in the pub and were a little bit drunk already and we realized that Radek was the great fit for us. He was listening to a different kind of music (I was not able to get pass the fact that he liked Michal David – the Czech pop singer) but he had a great heart. That was probably the only organ which was OK in his body. Except that the nature didn´t gave him much. He was fighting a lot of diseases at once and was very brave. He was lightly falling on his left leg and when he was looking at you for a longer time you felt like it was your fault. But he had a dog and I did also, so we were walking them together. Once we were walking I asked him when he learned karate. He replied that one old Vietnameese guy taught him. That he lived in Boleslav and worked in Škoda factory. But he was more like a step-father to him (like the seventh one). I was laughing about it and thought that his martial art is more like a better Spartakiáda. Well, until the time I was attacked for the first time.

Down in the city by the settlement there was a group of disco fans who liked to fight. After a few years they become a group of skinheads. They were the answer for the unstable situation in the Old city which belonged to gipsies at that time. We had the primary school by the demarcation line which notionally divided the city in groups of the whites and the blacks. So I knew what was up. Fat gipsy mother in colourful dresses sat on blankets, smoke and laughed at us (or they threw stones at us) when we were walking to other building for lunch. I remember our physics teacher being beaten up when he was going home from the school and didn´t want to give them any money. So after that he was throwing snow balls from the window of our school and screamed something about black pigs (“Eat you motherfucker, go work you bitch” and so on). It was not a big deal at that time. The first time I crossed the demarcation line was when I was 20years old (at I was definitely not the only one). Anyway, the discophiles were the first people who ever beaten me up. I was walking my dog, quietly listening to the new Kreator in my Walkman and suddenly there was the first kick. Then another one, another fist and I was just moving my hands in the air and was confused and scared. He laughed. He attacked me just for fun. To have fun from the blood. Six nearly adult men against one 60kg heavy little guy. The chances were clear I think.

 I don´t know how long it took. I was so beaten up and almost oblivious. I just thought about my dog who was a real hero and tried to bite their leader´s calf. Although he was kicked and he howled, he was still fighting. Surprise, surprise…I lost. I crawled (literally!) to my friend´s house to wash my face so my mother didn´t see me like that. When I came home I “run” through the apartment, took a shower and went to sleep. But in the morning I was even more swollen and my excuses about falling during the volleyball match were not enough. The next day when I ride my bike from school (I was so stupid! I thought the way would be shorter if I go over “their” street) everything hurt when I moved. I felt like being stabbed with needles. The Cheyenne (that was how we called the gipsy community at that time) were there, waiting for me. At first I didn´t notice them. Two smaller boys, one of them started to run, shoved a stick between wires and the front wheel fork and the second boy whistle. He called the others. The problem was that I tried to explain that I had no money, that I spent everything on book, tapes and beer. And maybe that I smiled because of this absurd situation.

Everyone who have ever experienced the gypsy fair fight probably knows how it looks. I was actually lucky because when the biggest men with tattoos took out a knife in order to kill me, an old men with his dog appeared in the door next to me. He was actually my saviour. Although I can´ imagine how would it ended, my potential killer got scared, caused me only a superficial wounds and run away. And that motherfucker destroyed my brand new Slayer T-Shirt. I was lying on the ground, tried to breath and refused any help from paramedics, police or potential plaster. My bike was in the same condition as I was but I was able to ride home so I did. The interesting thing was that everybody believed my story about falling over the handlebars of my bike (maybe thanks to my bike´s condition).  Was humiliated, my teenage honour was gone and I wanted to cry. Before I get over it I didn´t speak to anyone a lot and I was even scared to go outside. I was terrified by shadows. Thanks to my friends I didn´t have to search for any professional help or had trauma for the rest of my life.

I steeled again and asked Radek about his martial art and when the rest of our friends drunk beer by the panels, I started to train with him every evening. I didn´t care about people laughing, yelling quotes about cross-eyed ballet dancers. I was just thinking about how I never want to lose again. I never wanted to get beaten again. The training was beautiful. It was challenging, exhausting but exhilarating. I flew in the air the whole training, screaming with every hit just like ravens do. I trained my punches against bark of trees. I even complemented everything with jogging, swimming and gymnastics. The highlight of this was a broken bricks fling through the air or the triple sweep on a forest path. I even had a secret hit done by “blind palm” which was surprising and always defusing for my opponents.

Gradually I got a high scores in karate and when the first group of kick-box was created in Boleslav, I even went to the National Championship. Although I kept away from the larger groups of attackers but when there was some kind of injustice I could have been sure that I tried to be on the side of justice (well, I grew up reading books about Indians where you always protected the weaker ones). Radek now kicks his amazing assemblies in heaven but he taught me self-discipline and concentration. The ailing intellectual was not a recessed machine fully committed to protect the weaks. The martial arts was a part of me for a long time, with metal and books. There were times when I was drinking one night and the next morning I was already in the forest jogging and practicing kicks. I was a maniac, a mad man, enthusiast for a long fifteen years. Radek always told me that there is a fighter inside me. I don´t know, I can´t judge myself. The only thing I can say after those long years is a big thank you to my friend for showing me this beautiful sport. And he actually saved my life thanks to this. But we can talk about that next time. Thank you for your attention. “Dewa matta” (Japenese for “See you next time”).
The fortieth tale – Kraba…Kraba…Krabathor!

“Due, shit, oh my god, dude”: someone was yelling behind me and I jumped. When I looked behind me I saw Kytka running towards me and waving with something in his hand. It was the new cassette by Krabathor “Breath of Death”. “This is a “recorded original one” from my cousin from Moravia”: he claimed and I was curious how it was going to be. Kytka had better and better ideas every day in case of music. And we were already by the panels joking around. We talked about a girl who was a new friend of ours and like the real “guys who love boobs” we indecently evaluated her breasts. Unfortunately, Mirka – that was her name, heard us and profane us as a dirty men. We were laughing even more and put the cassette in the recorder. The “Imperátor” started to play because the tape was set on it. I was probably the only one who automatically started to swing to the rhythm. “Jesus, what the hell is this?”: screamed Prcalík and squeezed Mirka´s boobs. She yelled and screamed that we should turn it off and put Running Wild on.

Over the meadows people heard “Hundred masts, thirty flags” (Album by Port Royal 1988, we got it a year late like Krabathor). And all of us were humming the melody of these German heavies. Some of us were already 15 years old and we thought it was “too soft, dude, right?”. But we had to play because the girls were very touchy after that. It was getting dark slowly and I held my black fairy around her waist and we were all feeling very good. Half of us went home already and I asked Kytka again to turn on the Krabathor and to do a lesson while they were playing. It was customary. Anyone who brought a new music had to put some more information about the band. We enjoyed it so much. Some girls even take notes and did the notebooks which every girl does but these were full of skulls, graves and upside-down crosses. And that night, not only my goddess was wearing a very tight T-Shirt with SODOM sign on it but she wrote down one whole paragraph about this Moravian group. I remember she drew a beautiful picture with a graveyard (she can draw nicely) where there was a gate with the sign Krabathor on it.

I slowly turn on the volume and suddenly (like many times before) something incomprehensible had happened. The ones who stayed with us the whole night started to stamp their feet, uttering words of praise and a few individuals came back from their way home. It was magical, there was a cigarette smoke everywhere, the guys were going crazy about the music and our speakers almost went off the Polish recorder. We all were connected in one whole. Till this day I exactly remember how my palms burned. It was not the “cursed at first listen” but more like a gradual probing. The only foreign death metal band I had known till that day was Vader and maybe a few others from the new aborning music style. But I still somehow knew that this was something which was going to “fulfil” my fondness for trash music. Although it was the kind of music which was at that time (in the Czech Republic) very popular, I loved more extreme things. I put my hands in the bottom pockets of my girlfriend´s jeans and was squishing her ass in the beat of the drums.

At that night Krabathor probably happened to be the most copy cassette in the city. Sabath with their good apparatus could go screw themselves. I received the first copy as a ceremony (how many were there already?). I imagine that there was a palpable imprint of the original version of the band on this tape. I kept it till 2005 and protected it like a precious artefact (Kytka and my girlfriend did the copy of the cover for me) and when I moved in Pilsen I lost it (I almost cried and nobody understood that). And then it was time to attend a concert. This happened after a several years when Krabathor were famous and totally killed us with Debustroul in Prague. Till that day me and Kytka were the biggest propagators of death metal in Mladá Boleslav. Kytka made a T-Shirt and he was known because of the sign on his T-Shirt, there was no one with the same T-Shirt. I mostly knew only Vader and the Moravians but I totally went for this passion forever. For the majority of my friends this was too extreme. But I was fascinated by the darkness and fast which follows my musical history and present in many various forms.

The guys even made fun of me for talking about “my new band Krabathor” all the time. I always asked Kytka when he would invite his cousin for visit and for concerts. I urged everyone to listen to Krabathor with me. Eventually everything culminated in frequent chanting of one slogan when I was trudging from asphalt path to the panels. My friends were sitting there like ravens on the pyramid of concrete. First they were just whispering and gradually adding the volume. “Kraba, here comes our Kraba, here is our Kraba…Kraba, Kraba, Krabathooooooor!” I was laughing at it under my light fuzzy beard and pressed my cassette “with Imperator” in my pocket. All of us had his/hers band which was really important. For me it was Vader and Krabáč (how I called them). The both were the gate for more extreme music for me. When I think about it I love them till today. Howgh, that is it.
The forty-fourth tale – The Indians of the settlement

The entire childhood maybe ever since I had learned how to read I loved books about courage and adventure (e.g. Codecs). It was a literature full of adventure, Indians, cowboys and all of us trash madmen grew up reading them. And maybe that was why, well with the teenager´s overview, we created a new tribe of metal Indians called Trash Metal Dogs. We even have new names, just for fun and from the excitement of youngsters. Prcalík was Fucking bear, Kytka – The one who pissed in the back. Jana – The booby possum and I was Sniffing skunk which was an allusion to my big nose. We had so much fun. I remember one thrilling camping trip on Michalovická putna which is a ruin by the Jizera River, a few kilometres by food from home.

We took our bags, cassette recorders, sausages form the butcher, bread from my mother, returned all the bottle from beer, bought new ones and went to Jizera with a constant laughter and tickling of the Booby possum. Sandstone was crumbling under our feet, we were all very excited to sleep in our sleeping bags with our girlfriends and The one who pissed in the back really went to bathroom because his stomach hurt of the endless laughing. The journey took us around three hours although even my 80years old grandmother walked it for like 20 minutes. Finally we arrived and went up to hill. We climbed over the fence with a sign NO ENTRY and spread the camp between the half broken walls. We started to drink and slowly entering the oblivion. I snuggled my black fairy and fell asleep with the feeling that the world is the best place to live in.

“Shit, what the hell is this? This is your spot!”: some rough voice woke me up in the morning. I looked in its direction and jumped on my legs. There were three people standing above me with tattoos on their faces. They looked like some Moors, like emissaries of the Hell itself. I woke up the rest of us and we somehow automatically ranked into a combat line. The girls were obviously a little weaker and more vulnerable than we were so they stood in the back and the guys were in the first line. Our hearts were beating so hard that it sounded like a glockenspiel. I started to talk diplomatically with the ugliest one and after a while I calmed down the situation. They were a group of ex-prisoners, members of a thieving group. But otherwise they looked nice. Prcalík said that this must have been a very tough trunk and eventually everything was fixed by beer. Well except from one little story which sometimes pop up from my memory.

“We were always steeling in a residential are in Pilsen on Bory”: said Láďa who was the uncrowned leader of the tattoo tribe. “We always singled out some empty house, watched it for a while and then we climbed through the window.”: he continues and I have to admit that it was very thrilling. “We worked with Franta” (He looked like a Ferocious blunt Bull). The narrator didn´t let anyone to interrupt him and his voice was so calm and drowsy. “I took some pearls, paintings, other kinds of additional jewellery…well and after that I turn around and in the corner there was an old lady, so I strangled her and then we took some more tools and went to the garage”: he continued and I realized that that was not really normal, to kill someone. All of the boys from our group were sitting there with their mouths widely open and I felt Jana´s knees shaking. Prcalík was sweating and lost his ability to react to respond to everything.

As a group we were already incredibly coordinated and we had experienced a lot – good and bad. We even had fights, had different opinions or mocked each other. But this time, we agreed. If there is something like telepathy this night was very exciting and full of unspoken harmony and that is how it was enrolled in our memories. The dear murderers and thieves ate our food, drank our beer and we just sat and didn´t dare to do anything against it. The bad thing was that with more alcohol in their blood these gentlemen wanted to fuck something, as they said. We defended our girls with our own bodies. They didn´t do anything disgusting to them especially because of Kytka. He was indeed The one who pissed in the back. He was so physically sick that he fulfil his name and always brought distracting thoughts to all of us. He had to go to the bathroom every half an hour. Sometimes they punched me in the face when I tried to push away their hands from Jana. Well she was the most irritating one because of her boobs.  We were terrified like does who realized that they are watched by their killers. The night seemed endless. Thank Satan our tattooed co-campers fell asleep and we started to plan our escape with whispering.

We left Michalovická Putna and our baggage behind. I managed to take just my knife and that was it. We were crawling out of breath and with a cold sweat on our backs against the wall, then the grass. “I am gonna kill those motherfuckers!”: yelled someone to this quiet place. We stopped with fear. The Ferocious blunt Bull woke up and with him everyone else. After that it was a lot about running in the night forest, zigzagging, helping the girls who were always falling down and about swimming across the Jizera River. I remember that the fear awaken instincts which we were not aware of having. We had to survive, we were young had everything before us and this was a fight for life indeed. The adrenaline mixed with the desire to get out of this without any blame was going around our wet hair like a light vapour and I went through it by kissing my girlfriend in reassurance the whole night to get to the freedom.

When we climbed up the hill after climbing a steep rock in “our” forest near Radouč, we sat broken and terrified on the panels. It felt like coming back to the arms of our mothers. “Dude, if Karel May were there he would write a whole book about it”: said Prcalík and we started to laugh so hard because we were really stressed out. We slept in Kytka´s home because his parents were in their cottage. That night our friend was shitting the whole night because the whole experience was living inside of him.

The next day we went to get our stuff, just like the real Indians. But we went without our girls and they just patrolled the panels. It was light and the sun was shining so much my neck hurt. We walked slowly because we didn´t really want to go there. When we arrived there was a police officer by the tracks and he stopped us and said that we cannot go further. After we asked what happened he said that on Michalovická Putna there were some ex-prisoners who had a fight with each other and one of them died. We stood there with our mouths widely open and after a while we run away like pussies. So our Indian tramping ended poorly but that didn´t mean that we didn´t like forest, meadows or rivers anymore. Exactly the opposite, when there was the first warm day we went outside. After some time our experience was more and more exciting with the continuous narrating. Especially when we were outside by the fire and talked about it. There was one time when Prcalík made fun of us. He went to go to the bathroom and when he came back he had painted face. Our hearts stopped and the scream of our girls was heard several kilometres. 

The forty-second tale – Granny´s marijuana

Me and Prcalík, we were extremely lucky that we knew our grandmothers. They were the ladies of the congregation, caring and such classic women who seemed to be from a fairy tale. As kids we used to go to them to cry, they gave us chocolates and always had baked cookies and had a lot of advices for us. Prcalík´s granny was from Slovinky which is a village next to Mladá Boleslav and she was unique, a phenomenon. Her grandfather died during the war and she was an orthodox Christian but on the other hand she like to have fun. Unlike her neighbours she didn´t yelled at us and didn´t slammed us as greasy metal heads. We used to help her on the fields and during the evenings she told us long stories from the world wars.

Once when Kytka came back from Prague he said: “Well, gentlemen, I have something for you which makes you real metal heads! Do you remember when I showed you the German magazine with the weird sheet of something and we had no idea what if was?”: he continued and that was how he add a new information about marijuana into our lives. Then he opened his palm. He was in the Na Bábě pub and some local dude gave him few seeds. Immediately I was chosen, as a student of an agricultural school, to be the responsible one for this beautiful herb. So that was the first time I had ever opened a textbook about herbal production and started to study. It was a subject which didn´t impress me so I just drifter through it just because I sometimes worked on family lands and fields

Prcalík´s granny herself offered us to grow it on her own land and she said that she would smoke it with us when it was going to grow. Then she continued talking like an old women and we were just staring at her while she talked about what grandparents did during the war. She talked about cocain, pubs and prostitutes. Prcalík´s mouth was wide open and he rather left. We took some old flower pots in the basement and carried them up the stairs into the roof. The ideal environment. Every afternoon I walked 12 kilometres there and back to adjust the lights which we surreptitiously stole from Skoda factory and I watered the flowers and trimmed them.

And then after a few months all the flowers were probably outgrown and the big day came. It was weekend, the storm raged outside and our enthusiastic trio of me, Prcalík and Kytka and our beauty Jana we sat on the porch outside the house. The granny came clothed in a festive skirt. “Let´s do it?”: her grandson asked and pulled out a lighter. I was trying to wrap my first cigarette but I was not really able to do that. “Let me do it!”: laughed the renaissance lady and created a beautiful exemplary join with just one hand. “Why you look so surprised? During the war in the concentration camp I was packing straws from mattresses to think about something different than hunger”: laughed the old lady and did the first long inhale. The join travelled around us for one circle, but nothing happened. Stil nothing. We wondered and the hoped rush was still not there. We morons grew a few plants of industrial hemp. But we didn´t know that, we didn´t have any information and the metal head from Prague ditched us nicely. So at least we pretended that it did something with us and then we just went to the cellar to grab a beer.

So the first attempt of marijuana joy ended infamously. We laughed at it for so many years. But the story had the perfect ending.

Once during the autumn me and Prcalík were riding our bikes (after our summer fail in breeding). We were swooshing, screaming and were full of joy and testosterone. “What the hell is this?”: reported my colleague at the beginning of the village and turns toward his granny´s house. The whole house was lit and the windows were open. We started to biking and finally we were in the back yard. At the door there was a monumental shadow of the old lady and she was smoking a cigarette and smiling. “Hello guys!”: she laughed so much. “I couldn´t resist so I got one herb from a famous Prague lady”: she continued and we were flabbergasted. “Dude, my granny got high!”: screamed Prcalík and we all started to laugh. The old evening carried out on a clearly given direction. We smoked a lot and the next day also. In the end, when the rest of our group came, it looked like in some marijuana den.

We bustled around the house, laughed and were hungry all the time. Jana was taking off her bra, then the granny wanted to and in the end we talked her not to. Then the neighbour came, looked at us for a while and then he took one too and during the whole weekend the Prcalík´s house was shining. There were huge elephants with big white ears flying around the house. Slayer was playing from the hastily brought speakers and it was so loud that the neighbours talked about Sodom.

We used to go to Prcalík´s granny for a long time after that to visit her (and when my friend was no longer on this world anymore I sometimes came by myself). We didn´t brought chocolates or flowers, but we always brought some fertilizer or lightbulbs. This sweet, wonderful lady with a big heart just smoked herself into 95 years of life (she died in sleep with a smile). When me and my friends carried her coffin from the local church to the cemetery there were crying girls all around us. All the family members were thinking about how they would split the property and we just wanted to laugh the whole time. We were lowering granny to the grave. Jana stood near, winking at us. And when was the time to throw a piece of earth on the oak lid, Kytka pulled a few seeds of marijuana from his pocket and incorporated them on his palm. Instead of the burial ceremony we got high. For me it was the last time I did it.

During my life I had two own grandmothers, three great-grandmothers, two great-grandfathers and two grandfathers. But I had one grandmothers who was not my own. She was beautiful, nice and had the biggest hug ever. She gave me so much for my life, just like no one else. Prcalík´s granny was a phenomenon, element, human who had the vitality that everyone wanted. At that time we called her “the marijuana granny”
This tale is dedicated to the woman who taught me how to look at life with a huge smile. Thanks granny.
The forty-third tale – The story of how we went to a concert which didn´t happen

Once upon a time we sat on the panels and we had dry mouths. It was a really hot summer somewhere around 1990/1991. I was almost seventeen years old and my heart was full of trash metal. Sometimes I loved a heavy metal classic, I knew Venom and death classic (that was probably stronger for me), but the black metal was a secret for me yet. Next to the settlement there was only Míra listening to this kind of music but at that time he was very closed and didn´t really talk to anyone. So in the end it was Prcalík who came with the idea of “go to a real black metal party”. But in the meantime he was the one who always laughed about this music style. But he was entice by famous Nymburk´s girls who were always (for some reason) know in Boleslav as beautiful and affectionate. I didn´t want to go. I just had recently read a few articles about black metal which Kytka showed me from foreign metal magazines. There was something about burning down churches, about anger and when I saw a few pictures I got scared. But in the end I succumbed. I only had one condition. We had to visit Kersko where (probably my favourite writer) Bohumil Hrabal sat by his cottage and wrote his amazing books on his old typewriter.

All of my friends were moving like worms because none of them didn´t care about any writer but I promised them to buy a bus ticket so they agreed. Suddenly was the Saturday morning and I brought a shoulder back and my book Perlička na dně (1963), a roll of hard-earned money and then we stood by the bus station. Some of us were smoking and were angry about going somewhere to see someone who they didn´t care about at all. We almost had a fight but in the end my friends went there with me. I was so nervous that day and didn´t almost speak at all in the bus. I didn´t even want to go for a beer. Jana sat next to me and I saw that she was a little bit sorry for me. Although she was mixing Hrabal and Páral but I was not angry at her. She was young and her life was directed to a different side of the world than my life. We were at the railway station in Nymburk and my friends told me that they don´t want to go and they went to a pub. So I went by myself.

I felt so sad for my friends but Jana suddenly came with me. I could have seen that she wanted to go out with me (for the first time). I had already knew that it would not be good for our friendship but I can see her puppy eyes right in front of my face even today. She looked so nice and a few men looked at her at the Kersk station. The locals knew what we were there for and one woman automatically leaded me to the cottage of Master himself. I was terribly ashamed and wanted to go to a pub for one beer, and another beer, and another and when I had 5 beers already we went there. I felt like everyone was watching me. I walked slowly under the trees and I saw that Hrabal was really sitting by the table (oh my god, I get lucky sometimes!), there was the typewriter and a bottle of Pilsner. We stood behind the fence for a while. Just like every other people I had never seen before, Mr Hrabal seemed really small. Jana held my hand and gave me courage.

“What are you looking at?”: said Mr and I tried to stammer something about how I like his books. My sentences didn´t make any sense but he understood what I wanted. “You got a nice girl with you”: added Mr Hrabal and my tongue was suddenly free. I was a young and slightly cheeky guy and in front of me was one of the best Czech and maybe even world writers and he was talking to me. My dream had come true and he gave me one bottle of beer. Me and Jana sat on a bench and felt like we were in paradise. Although Mr Hrabal more often looked and talked to my friend rather than me, I was stuck on every single word he said. He was looking at her breasts and caressing one of his cats with his senile hand. Then something happened and started to talk about cats, people, nature, beer and women´s lap for like 10 minutes. It was a long monologue, beautiful but a little bit confusing and dirty). We were astonished and I felt like seeing a ghost which was cussed in Mr Bohumil. “Get out!”: a scream into the silence of whispering trees. We were back in reality and went slowly from the garden. “Wait!”: screamed the famous writer and gave me an empty bottle. Confusedly I thanked him and we were already sitting in the bus to Nymburk. I had so many mixed emotions in my head at that moment.

I hold in my hand a pieces of green glass of Pilsner Urquell. My joy was slowly increasing. “Hey, he wrote you something there”: Jana woken me up from my dream and I was reading it all over till we were at the bus stop. “For my young friend…the greatest writer of all time Bohumil Hrabal.” It somehow clicked together. Apparently we had just a normal conversation (I was like in a dream). Jana told me, my true friend. I put my bottle to the box in the railway station (including my book which was accidentally poured by beer and I just completely forgot about it) and I was praying to never lose it (unfortunately that happened when I moved to Pilsen – how many amazing unnecessary thing had left me at that time). 

We went to the appointed place in the pub and drank one beer after another. We were explaining to everyone what we had just experienced. Nobody understood and I felt like no one will never understand. I went back to Kersk after a long time again when Bohumil Hrabal was already done with his living adventure. I remember me and my friend standing by the fence, being stronger again thanks to a few beer from Hájenka. On the table by the abandoned cottage there was still one bottle. The wind was blowing and pushed the bottle on the edge. It fell down, rang on a rock and that was the story of my favourite writer. It was over. I climbed over the fence and put the bottle up. My university friend didn´t understand. I silently said a prayer about gratitude and transience. The only things left are the over and over read books and the peed gatepost in Kersk. “Hrabal would like that”: that is what I say every time I tell this story in a pub.

We were walking happily to the cultural house where the pitched black concert was. Unfortunately, there was a sign on the door: “There is no concert today since our drummer is drunk. So maybe next time. 666”. Everyone was angry and spitted towards the sign. One girl with black make-up wiped grey tears from her face. I was probably the only one who had a smile on his face when we came back to Mladá Boleslav. I had the bottle of Pilsner Urquell in my bag and my heart was warm of this experience which will never happen again. I think I was not even able to realize what just happened at that time. Thinking about it that was the time by the beer in Hájenka under the trees, when I realize that “I would like to be a writer one day”. I took me 20 long years until I did it. There were beautiful pictures of the Central Bohemia landscape going around the train´s windows (we went back by train and it costed e 658 Czech crowns). Despite my friends constant swearing I was the happies guy on earth. I am so grateful to destiny to lead my steps to the cottage number 0274 in Kresk and Prcalík started to look like uncle Pepin (a character form a Czech movie Postřižiny).

The fourty-fourth tale – Commemoration ceremony for the death of Cliff Burton

Kytka was the greatest Metallica expert far and wide. He loved this band so much that he was able to recite all the songs names by heart, the year when they were composed. He just perfectly knew everything about this band which had its trash peak on the panels with us (the band was very famous around the world but thanks to the ending socialism we had everything with a several years delay). Kytka´s love went so far that this trash group came to a kind of deification for him and a lot of people made fun of him because of this. Notwithstanding the fact that he even stylized his outfits to Metallica but he looked very similar to Kirk Hammet. I perceived this legend a little bit easy even though I absolutely adore some of their older albums. But at that time I like German cavalry more and it was me who made fun of my friends the most.

The famous member of Metallica Cliff died on September 27, 1986 in a bus accident and our friend Kytka decided to establish this days as commemoration. As a “celebration” of death of one his his favourite bass guitar players. Everything went like a classic birthday but the only difference was that we gave anything related to the band as gifts to Kytka. The girls embroider cushions, some of them forced her grandmother to knit a scarf with the logo of the band. I have to admit that it was strange because I often started a conversation with asking whether they had already had any stuffed animals with Metallica theme. But since we all loved to drink beer and party, it was a great reason to do so. We bought or rather changed some “original and unpublished in our country” cassettes (if I remember it correctly they were very interesting because they had wrong French titles on the booklets which made them expensive). And it was September 1990 and we stood by Kytka´s house. We were able to hear the pain loud music “Whiplash” even through the wall.

“Dude, thank you. You´re the best!”: welcomed me Kytka and took my gift. He immediately turn off the recorder, changed the cassettes and we didn´t spoke to him for an hour. There was just a few times when he joyfully screamed from his room. “What did you gave him?”: Jana asked me in the door and Prcalík was laughing that he probably needed Metallica condoms…apparently it would be a great masturbation. At that time, Kytka was currently without girlfriend for 14 days so it was really important to make fun of him. Of course Jana did the best thing since she had the most money of us because she worked as a shop assistant. She brought second book of beautiful photo book of Metallica. She received a long kiss and we picked her up to heaven. The party started. We all sat down by the table, Kytka took out all his Cliff Burton albums and pressed them in our heads over and over again. We were drunk, screaming the lyrics and I had to politely but firmly kicked off the neighbour (I still don´t understand why it was always me who had to do these kinds of things?!).

Around the midnight the flat of Kytka´s parents looked like a battlefield. Prcalík furiously bited upholstery of grandmother´s chair. Jana was showering in the bathroom fully clothed because she claimed that she was cold. I found Kytka lying by the bathroom door crying because he was not able to crawl under the door. The demon alcohol sprawled in the room. The cassettes were playing out slowly. Someone fell into a flower-pot and then turn the Polish rumpling cassette. I found Jana completely soaked sitting in front of the poster of Albert Einstein and kissing him on his mouth. She was in love, completely in love. I tried to explain to her that this genius is no longer alive. So she clamped to the second poster of Cliff Burton and I gave up. Suddenly, the doorbell. Again, I risen unsteadily and there she was – Mirka, Kytka´s ex-girlfriend (or rather Kytka´s big love 14 days ago). We gave her vodka, beer, vodka, beer, Fernet, beer and then she sat down in the chair and cried.

I was so sad to see so many crying people and I went to sleep to the bathtub. I woke up after an hour or so, everything hurt but I was almost sober (at least I thought so). Mirka stood by the window and she was tipped over the parapet and vomited so strongly from the sixth floor. I caught her around her waist and save her life otherwise she would fell off the window (but there was no one who believed me the next day, not even she). I closed the window, put her on the bed and she wanted me to comfort her (you know how). I rejected it and this beautiful and nice girl who was unhappily in love vomited a long stream of something like half-digested steak with potatoes right on Kytka´s new Metallica book. I didn´t care and rather fell asleep right next to the speaker (that was my favourite thing to do – there was even a story about me falling asleep by the speaker in Debustrol concert and I gladly heard and supported this nonsense).

It was morning and the sun was shining right in the middle of heavy curtains on the window. “Oh my God, this is disgusting”: said Prcalík who was the other night surprisingly quiet. Jana was vainly searching for her clothes. Normally we would all say something nasty to her (and nice at the same time) but we were too tired. I looked around for Mirka because Kykta was not able to get up. She was lying in the hallway having on only her panties and nigh table door. I carried her to the bed next to Kytka and slowly woke up everyone. Then we vanished outside like a hangover. There was the neighbour on the hallway, holding a bucket and soup and I had to clean every window parapet with vomit and apologize. My stomach was turning upside down but I was young and strong so I did it. An old drunk man gave me something to make my hangover disappear and he was glad that someone finally cleaned his place. I just don´t understand why there were peanuts everywhere. There was no one with peanuts that night.

My friends stood down in front of the building and laughed to my pious activity. There was a sharp whistle. We raised our heads and there was Kytka and Mirka smiling in the window. They were hugging and kissing and then they yelled at us: “So, see you next year on other commemoration ceremony for Cliff!”. We waved wearily for greeting (while constantly chanting Metallica, Metallica, Metallica – and I sometimes added Slayer!) and went to the pub by an Oak. I was so convinced to put the Metallica patch on my denim jacket one day.

The forty-fifth tale – The best thing is to drink gin when you are in the Slovak Republic with wolves howling over your head.

“Gentelmen, my friend told me that there are beautiful girls in Slovakia”: claimed Prcalík while we were sitting in silence on the panels. He had some mother´s relatives by our eastern neighbours and he went to visit them sometimes. I pricked up my ears and for a while I let myself go with our friend´s stories. Each of us was imagining one Slovak girl by his side who was nicely constructed and affectionate. In those imaginations we also had a bottle of gin in the other hand. Only Jana said something about rather being with some metal fan. At that time we basically said yes to everything and Easter seemed so close. So we started to create a plan.

Well, one word lead to another, we brought together our part-time job money, sausages, beer, bread, beer, vodka, beer, pate, batteries for our walkmans and beer. Everything was bought and ready. We were packed and stood on the main road to Prague like a denim Task Force (me, Kytka, Prcalík, Jana). Prcalík was talking about the beauty of Slovak girls and some paddlers stopped there. They were going to the South to go down the Vltava River. They gave us rum, sandwiches and one beautiful girl was falling in love with me during the journey. I would rather go to the river but Jana persuaded me. I said goodbye and went through the field to the Brno road. An old man in an old, rusty van gave us ride and on the D1 highway there was a lot of rust falling from the sheets of his car´s fenders. Police officers stopped us because we looked like hippies going to Woodstock. I had to connect the wires under the steering wheel because I was the only one who had an idea what to do, just a little bit. I might a few time light up the light instead of blinkers but it seemed like the police officers were in a good mood and the check was over (and maybe because of Jana who was constantly occupied by one officer).

We went on, passing the Jihlava turnoff. The man was grateful so he brought us to Brno. It was 1992 and we were walking through the darkened Moravian metropolis. If you would asked me today which way did we go, I have no idea. We didn´t have any map or navigation but I know there was a large meadow. We were drunk and fell asleep totally overcome and we tangled ourselves into one alcohol pile. “Come on, we´re going, one, and two”: and a whistle sound. Prcalík went out of his sleeping bag and yelled on a bunch of football players. There was a big laugh and they told us that we made a camp right in the football field of Zbrojovka Brno. We packed our stuff and run away. One player run to us and told us to wait till the evening because they had a party or something. We reluctantly agreed. We had one day for us and the only one who was in Brno before was me (it was one of our endless family trips).

The player´s name was Jarda and we gave him one bottle of beer and went to the city. We walk through some squares, starving and we bought two loaves of bread and salami on the train station. Some gentleman in an expensive suit sat by us and asked if we could have sign some illegal bill. I put mine practiced signature of one of our teachers who always bullied us and I also add his address, with a smile on my face. It was getting dark and we were going from one pub to another. The football player was nowhere around and we didn´t know what to do. We ended up on some local party where we sat in leather sofas and dying during listening the horrible music. All the girls looked at us weirdly. For them we were scums, bastards, outcasts, dirt, and scum. There was a guy who came to Jana to dance, but she didn´t want to and I showed him my teeth, so he left. Then someone tried to sell heroin so we rather went out and walked the whole morning around the city. Prcalík started cursing. We went to Bratislava by train and we all were controlled by police officers – our bags and us (the republic was separated the year after – January 1st).

We stood in Bralislava at the train station and in they had nasty beer in the local pub. The locals told us a few times that we are Čehůns and that we shouldn´t have been there. I was a little scared because it surprised me. We were walking almost the whole day, to the north-east to the water surface called Vajnorka. We were waving at cars and a lot of them stopped but when they realized we were Czech they told us to go fuck ourselves in a weir way. Jana started to be emotional because we didn´t really expected this anger from them. “Fuck them”: said Prcalík and added something about him not doing anything wrong to anyone. We camped by the water, exhausted, worn out, half dead with fatigue. In the morning a van woke us. From the van came out a woman and her husband. The woman was so beautiful so all of us guys were not tired at all anymore. She talked to us and I asked her where they were going. She said that they went to Žilina to see her family on Easter. They offered us a ride so we jumped in the old Volkswagen. They both were so nice people, university teachers.

We were talking, the country was passing around and we suddenly had so much better mood. We asked them why the Slovaks didn´t like us and they told us that Mečiar was getting into power and he supported national sentiment. We felt sad – the initial joy was gone. We wondered how politicians can quarrel the two nations who had always been together like siblings. We gave each other addresses but unfortunately we lost them. Too bad. These two great people are the ones I would like to see someday. I even went on the internet to search Bratislava´s universities and the biology department. But I found nothing. Unfortunately.

The only opened store on Žilina square was Bageterie. We went in and after a few moments of joking with beautiful girls behind the counter we were asked to go to a disco with them which was apparently two days after. Everything was closed due to Easter. I get a bagel and one kiss for free and Prcalík was promised even more. I wondered what his secret in this was. Finally Kytka started to talk, probably for the first time during this trip and he said: “He must talked the girls into his magic or something”: he smiled. I hugged him around his shoulders and he collapsed into a tearful spasms. He found his father with undercut veins in their bathroom a months ago. He had cancer and he committed suicide. We both felt sick (both of our families knew each other and he was like an uncle for me), we rather drank our purchased gin and we step-by-step put ourselves together.

“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Jana and we started to feel a little bit cold. “Well, we are no pussies”: said Prcalík so we decided to sleep under stars behind the city. So we jumped on a train and got off in a forest and after a while we saw a beautiful campground with mountains view. I sat on a fallen tree and I wrapped me and Jana into one sleeping bag. We were enjoying the view. There were large predators circling over our heads (they were too high but I thought they were eagles), the youth was flowing in our veins and it was insanely beautiful. It was the kind of a moment you would never forget. We fell asleep in a piece and quietness. Like denim infants. I laid Jana on the ground and put my blanket on her and talked a little bit with Kytka. It was too much for him. Slowly there was the sleeping god Hypnos going in the middle of us. “Auuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu”: sounded from the meadow nearby. “What the fuck is that?”: said Prcalík going out of his sleeping bag. He drank like a litre of the gin that night. “Wolves”: said Kytka into the silence.

“I am not going to be here, I´ m scared”: Jana forfeit to a total panic. She was in shocked, waken up from drunkenness and wanted to go away. It was so bad that I even had to slap her a little bit. My explanations that they wouldn´t do anything to us, that they were more afraid than we were, nothing worked. “Dude, you are like Little Red Riding Hood”: said Prcalík who tried to support our girl-friend. Jana packed her stuff and went to the forest. We spent like half of the night trying to find the scared girl. We were falling down kicking roots, swearing and there were wolves howling. An unforgettable experience. Finally, I found Jana hidden under a rock and she was like a wounded animal. I took her in my arms and brought her to the camp. I almost sprained my ankle during the way. Prcalík commented all of this with the memorable sentence: “The best thing is to drink gin when you are in the Slovak Republic with wolves howling over your head.” We didn´t slept after that and in the morning we went to a village nearby called Rudina. Nothing was happening there but we found out from the locals that wolves killed some sheep again in the night. Jana screamed and they didn´t understand what the hell is wrong with the booby Czech girl. We went by foot to Kysucké město town and we met a Bratislava metal fans there. So after that we were fine.

Guys and girls, metal fans, just like us –hooray! I wanted to scream from joy! It was like a meeting of two delegations. Great people, nice, hospitable. We were talking for a long time till the night about music. I even gave one of them my original of Kreator. I was so excited that he almost killed me with alcohol. That night we finally slept in beds in a hostel. It was an old house bud it was under a roof. In the morning we went to a shop for milk, beer, salami and bread. Our Czechoslovak group worked amazingly. Then we ran to (obviously!) a pub and there was Mečiar in the TV. Prcalík jokily asked who is the stupid face and our new metal fan friends had to explain all of the local non-metal fans that it was just a joke. Otherwise they would probably kill him. There was a stress everywhere. So we rather bought bottled beer and were looking forward to go to Žilina to the disco. There were supposed to be a DJ who even played metal. I was looking on stars and checked out Kytka but still enjoyed the amazing atmosphere. A beautiful Slovak girl Marie walked to me and what happened next on a meadow behind the city is not of your business. Slovak girls are really beautiful.

It was the next morning and we went to Žilina. It was a beautiful yet cold day. We went to the Bageterie and surprisingly there was no one. But the guys knew where to go. We had some beer and Marie was still cuddling me. I thought about how great would it be to move there, somewhere to the forests and made a lot of kids with her. We arrived to the disco place with a weird name. I don´t remember it. Prcalík went in and jumped in the middle of dancing floor. We went behind him and we partied like a one man. They played Metallica. It was a little bit interesting for the disco-lovers. Ten blue-black hairy bodies. What a beauty. We occupied the bar and drank like crazy. From the corner of my eye I saw a lot of people swarming around one table after about 4 hours. It was local disco guys and girls. I went to the bathroom and when I came back it was quiet and a lot of people in front of the bar. I recognized Kytka´s legs in the middle of the bunch of people. I heroically went to help him. The idiot stood in the line for the bar and someone asked him if he was a shitty Czech. He answered that he was not Czech but Metal fan and that in metal it doesn’t matter what nationality you are. So they punched him right into his face which was not really good for a man in his condition.

We had heroic fight but we were losing. Suddenly, someone grabbed me by my shoulder and pulled me on the side. “Dude, run away. We will hide you because they are not going to hurt us. It is too many of them, they will beat you up”: screamed Daniel right into my ear. He was the uncrowned boss of our Slovak friends. I asked Jana to whistle (yes, I admit that I can´t do it by myself loud enough). It was our long-agreed signal. We ran off. Kytka was very untidy. Prcalík was miraculously not and Jana´s T-Shirt was ripped off. It was outnumbered. We were running through Žilina at night. They followed us. The metal guys from Slovakia leaded us to garages. Then they prevent the entrance with their own bodies, literally. We were able to see through the glass that our persecutors had sticks and stones in their hands. Uff. I searched for a train. “Dude, Ostrava!”: screamed Prcalík and we went to the bathroom to clean our faces. I washed my face and there was the face of one of our persecutors. My blood freezes. Prcalík was occupying the toilet so I was there alone.

He punched me in the face. And another, and another. Then there was just darkness. Then I woke up and above me was Marie and Prcalík. I was on the platform, laying on a bench. They took me there. The disco-lovers got scared because they thought they did something horrible to me so they left. What a relief. Marie was crying but I didn´t know why. Then I realized that we had to say goodbye. We had to go. Jana brought a poultice from one of her T-Shirts. The girls were washing my face and suddenly tears went off my eyes. My nose was broken. And one of my tooth fell off. Well, great I thought to myself. My goodbye with Maria was long and hurtful. She was squeezing me and kissing me so hard that I sibilate because everything was hurting me. The great Slovak guys who were amazing and denim gave us a few bottles of gin and we felt sad again. We had a great time with these friends the mutual metal foible friendship worked again (I know that it sounds pathetic but it was like this). I was waving to Maria (with a flue probably) from the train and fell asleep. Then I had so many insane dreams. “Probably a concussion”: said someone a few times. Then I heard nothing.

“Where the hell are we?”: screamed Jana suddenly. “Shit, Havlíčkův Brod”: Kytka read the sign on the station. The only one who didn´t care was Prcalík and did jokes about how we could have been in Ukraine or somewhere else. Well, he was right. We went off the train and asked an old railway-official. He laughed at us and tried to explain the switching wagons system. We didn´t get it. We didn´t have any money or strength, we were hungry and I looked like a boxer after a big fight. Mr Karel just ended his shift and he was the kind of a person you would only meet once in your life. He invited us for a soup in his house, goulash. It was made by his beautiful and great wife. We sat by their table. The four ragged vagabonds, unwashed and only Jana looked like a human. The lady was so nice she even treated me with her first aid box. We didn´t want them to do that much for us so we thanked them and left. But they were too nice to let us go like that and at least drove us to the road which leaded to Prague. So we gave him a bottle of gin, which was the only thing we had. Some group of German philharmonics stopped by the road. They were going from Austria from a performance. I tried to speak German with them but the only topic we found was my favourite Brahms because I loved his concerts for viola and they played him on CD. My bandage on the nose started to seep.

We were in Prague and Prcalík remembered that when someone has a broken nose you should straighten it otherwise it would be wrong in the future. I tried to run away from the others but I was too weak. Not far away from Mladá Boleslav they caught me in the field right by the road where an old men dropped us. My friends straightened my nose. So it could have been said that my face was a result of a few amateur plastic surgeons Kytka a Prcalík working. Prcalík was constantly saying that he would create Belmondo from my face. Jana held me like in a straitjacket and I struggled to keep my tears in my eyes (I had broken nose 3 times in my life and I still don´t look like Belmondo). Then it was OK. We were home. Hooray.

The next year, January 1st 1993 our two countries split up. It was a bullshit and all the normal and intelligent people thought so. Too bad that they didn´t let the decision on us, a group of young metal fans. Our plans were different. We would have a beer and create national group hug and then we would just dance while listening our favourite music. That was how we felt it and we were very sad of being separated. So we finished the gin while constantly swearing on Mečiar and Klaus. It was so sad for us. It was the first time I saw Prcalík vomited from alcohol and disgust.

I have been in Slovakia a few times since that. I love the nature, have a lot of friends there and I just adore some Slovak bands. The only thing which is sad for me is that I haven´t seen Marie. I wonder what she´s doing and how is she. Hey, friends. Where are you? Please write me and I would like to see you again. There is only two of us from our group left and you still owe me one tooth and a great Sodom party, do you remember?

The forty-sixth tale – The time we blackened along with Root

I was standing in the down square in Jablonec nad Nisou. I was cold. But it was spring 1991. I was waiting for Sabath (he always went to Jablonec to see his friend) who said he had a surprise for me. He even called my grandmother and she had to go to a grandmother in Nová Ves nad Nisou and she called me from forest. I was just in the middle of one of my observation missions. I am an animal lover and I watched a fox family which was lived next to a pond with trout. The grandmother was scared because Sabath sounded like it was an emergency. But he did it all the time when he found a new band. Finally he was there. He gave me the “Zjevení” LP record from for me unknown Root band. “You will shit yourself, my friend!”: he yelled at me over the whole square and I was glad that we can finally go to a pub. We had a beer and I was looking at the cover and paid to Sabath the money we agreed on. It was 350 Czech Crowns which were hardly earned. But I had no idea where to play the vinyl. We only had a tape player at home and a CD player.

But Sabath (yes, there is only one B in this word – apparently he wanted to be different from the real Sabbath) was a technical genius and put together a vinyl player who was his grandfathers. Until that day this player only played classical music. I called dips on all the vinyl and went through all those classics and I just fell in love with Brahms, then Tchaikovsky and then Beethoven. I played the Root´s record after a week. I was quite afraid of the cover. Immediately the lyrics from the fifth song Upálení got into my brain. It was so good that it became our volleyball team anthem. Every time we started a match we were moving in the rhythm with the guys – it looked like volleyball players receiving the ball and there were the chorus screams: “Jsem nevinen! To vím!”: it was like a powerful cheer on the volleyball field. I tried to persuade everyone to go on a concert with me but we attended one long time after that, thanks to some problems. I played the record all over again and again until my parents thought I was crazy.

We were going to Nymburk by train. It was cold, snow everywhere and there was a capitalism going on in Prague in 1993. The concert was cancelled before but now I knew that it would happen. There in the local cultural house was my dream coming true. The trash era in our group was slowly going into its end. A lot of people went from metal, left or moved because of family or work reasons. But our group was still together. Root had 3 albums and I was so excited. We went off the train on a train station and went right to a pub. Prcalík almost had no hair left and we were not aware that this was a precursor of the nasty disease which was not that far away. We had no idea but we just were not the teenagers like before. We get older but didn´t take anything too seriously. There was no point doing so. The Nymburk´s beer was not really good so I talked everyone to rather go.

It was black in front of the cultural house. It was my first black concert. Till that time I went only on trash drinking events and jumped off the stages. Girls had bats drawn on their eyes and everyone was sad and introvert. I had a big curtain over my back with SODOM sign and all the fans looked weird on me. “Dude, this is gonna be something again…shit”: said Prcalík to the weird silence. Jana smiled to another girl who just walked around and she showed her teeth and hissed: “Ssssataaaaan”. Kytka said something about them being probably from Prague and that there is some shit in the Vltava River. We laughed and went slowly into the concert hall. Then I was in the darkness.

The forerunner was a local band and I just cannot remember the name. It is not important because it was just a small boring heavy metal. Then there was the first endless tones of ROOT and I had to control myself not to faint. I exactly remember the coldness going on my back and I was singing all their lyrics like a prayer. It was the first concert in my life when I just stood there and listen. We normally went crazy like wolves below the stage and danced like dreidel. We were like marble statues, all four of us. There was only someone during pauses breathing out words of wonder. Jana was hidden under my arm and I felt she was scared. It was powerful, perfect and truly hellish. Big Boss really felt like a fallen priest. The concert passed and we went out. We didn´t talk, walking quietly and I thought I was able to hear the beatings of our hearts.

The whole crowd went next from the square to a pub which was open till the morning. The whole night until the morning train we debated, the girls´ black make-up was worst and worst with more alcohol. The whole night I sat rather sideways a little bit wistful but I knew that I should listen more black metal music (until that day I knew only the “venom” classic). Some Nymburk princess came to me, gave me a kiss and drawn a devil contour on my face. I went like this to home and scared my mom. “You have to put it down before lunch”: she said to me with a confusion and I was cleaning my face with Solvina, it was the only thing working. We had schnitzels and I was so hungry so I eaten everything and thought about the ROOT concert – it will be in my head forever, just like somebody cursed me. After working on my aunts’ garden for a long hours, I went in the evening to play the “Hell Symphony” album. It was given to me by my friend Sabath, again. My soul was black like wings of ravens.

Every time I go to cottage in the Jizerské Mountains I want to go to the room upstairs, go through old mess and records. ROOT would be always in my shelves. I like to listen to their albums even today. They are and always will be the key to one whole section of metal for me. They opened the doors in the black underground and taught me how to persuade the hell in my own way. Ave Satanas!

The forty-seventh tale – Dude, you are on fire, like Palach!

After a few years of part-time jobs Prcalík decided not to work anymore because he was sick of it. And he said he would rather draw money from his father. Me and Kytka were not that lucky. Our parents had to put money in two kids at school and Kytka´s situation was crazy after his father´s death. We counted every single crown and worked everywhere, doing anything. We knew how it was to work in factories, post office, cleaning companies or stores. Sometimes I felt like I had more than hundreds of jobs. As a student of agriculture school I had a mandatory practice-work. They paid us a little but there was Kytka with me so we pulled it off.

It was summer 1992 and me and Kytka were on the train station in Boleslav. We wore fake converse shoes, torn and sadly poor. We had sleeping bags, fatigue in our hearts from not sleeping. The train to Chotětov was coming soon and we were ready to work there for three weeks during harvest. Prcalík and Jana didn´t go and wanted to build a tent somewhere around to watch us and support us, but not laugh at us. “What a great summer holiday, next time I am not gonna do this shit”: said Kytka angrily. I lip-read what he said and listen to my favourite SODOM. I was so tired. Finally the train was there. We were eating bread and meatloaf. We originally wanted schnitzels but there was not enough money to buy them. We get off the train in Chotětov and went to grange. I thought to myself that there was not much changed in there and we slowly went inside the socialistic agriculture.

“So gentlemen, we start in 10 in the morning when the dew dries. In the meantime Franta would take care of you!”: said still red chairman and boss of this whole waxworks. We met Franta who walked us to some warehouse. There was a man sitting who looked like Krakonoš. He was sieving some seeds and said over and over again: “If I had so much of this shit I would fuck everyone here!”. We rather went out to the summer sunrise. We met some of the local girls who looked at us like we were some festival attraction, laughed and whispered like teenagers. They were around 30 years old but they acted like 14 years old. Well, village. Finally it started to be a little bit warmer and we sat on a flatbed truck. An old grey codger was driving it and had a piece of wood instead of one feet. He said that his leg was cut by harvester. He pulled the gas with his wooden stick and went to the field.

They divided us to individual harvesters and we waited for someone to come. Kytka was assigned to a men with glasses. He was local and very conscientious and a cool teacher. My harvester was probably the oldest one and my boss was nowhere seen. “Well, Venca is probably drunk again”: said the teacher and started the engine on his machine. Then he explained everything to Kytka. I waited till one o´clock on sun and finally there was a swaying body with a huge hangover. “Let´s go, I am Venca, dude”: he said and we jumped into the old, Russian, rusty and barely going harvester. We went two circles around the field with any word and suddenly Venca went off. He screamed at me through the noisy rotating ferrous gears: “So there you go, I showed it to you and now it is your turn!” I was startled and sat to drive this monster. I pushed some lever and all the grain went out to the ground. “Dude, who the hell is this moron?”: Venca came back and I took a shovel in my hand.

Until the late lunch/snack including the afternoon break I was throwing all the grain back on the wagon in 40 degrees. I felt grotty. The only one helping me was Kytka. He was happy about his teacher and said that it was OK. I think I was slowly getting a sunburn. I went to my trailer and there was Venca sitting in a shadow. He had a bottled beer in his hand, smiled and as I protested he said me that he had to do a review for my school in the end so I should rather shut up and work. I wanted to cry from anger: “Shitty agriculture guys, fuck the holiday”: I said while walking to the hellish machine. That day I even almost broke the chimney which is for pouring grain on flatbeds and I pushed rail - plowshare into a hill because I was too tired and forgot about it. But I didn´t care at all. Well, my brain was melted. I was done in the midnight and we went do the hostel. I took a shower and fall asleep while eating the rest of the meatloaf. I was exhausted and the only light on the end of the tunnel was the next day because I knew our friends would come. Kytka thought that I was asleep and he cried about his father in the middle of the dark night. The world is a shitty place to life in.

“Helooooooo the fastest harvester drivers in the village!!!”: jumped Prcalík into our cell. Behind him there was Jana, smiling as always. “Hey, we have our tent next to the forest, so I hope you will coma”: added Prcalík and me and Kytka told him to go fuck himself. Then we explained him how the things were and both of our friends were really angry too. Then we went to have a walk around the village, we drank one bottled beer in front of the store and me and Kytka had to go to the harvest. Venca was good and came at 12 o´clock. Everyone had a lot work done already and I was controlling myself not to kill him. The asshole was laughing right into my face. He unlocked the harvester and I sat with headphones inside and started to work. The second day was a little bit better for me. I even noticed that I was cutting the whet with a determination while listening SODOM. I was so tired the other day that I was not in the mood for Venca´s stupid jokes. Prcalík beckoned us for a beer but me and Kytka went sleep like logs.

The third day the pain was everywhere in my muscles and I went to the field somehow automatically. Like a slave, a piece of something which looked like a cloth. Venca came at two o´clock, totally drunk and I was not able to handle it anymore and with Prcalík´s word support I punched him into face when he laughed to us by the field. He looked at me with the weird face and left. Then he came back, did something on the harvester. I didn´t really pay attention because there was a tractor with flatbed and I had to manoeuvre and dumped the grain. I turn on SODOM again. The weather was the hottest. I only had my pants on me and sometimes drank the Poděbradka mineral water. I had a feeling of satisfaction that I stood up for myself. Above the field was dark already, the Sun was going down and surprisingly I was in a good mood.

I shined in the darkness and scared a family of wild pigs. I smiled into the sound of SODOM and suddenly I saw Prcalík running by the harvester and waving hands. I was even happier and waved back like a communist dignitaries. I even stood up and made a superman stand. My friend knocked on his forehead and jumped on the harvester. He pointed behind him. I turn over and I was flabbergasted. Down, the belts of the old Russian monster were slipping and the metal juggernaut was on fire. O opened the window and screamed at Prcalík: “Dude, your harvester is on fire!: screamed my comrade into the flashing light and fire. I tried to open the doors of the cabin but I was not able to. I thought the doors were stuck but when Prcalík came up we found out that the asshole put a lock on the door as a revenge. “Find Venca or I will be burn alive here”: I almost cried from fear and tried to jump through the front glass. They said I looked like a frog sprawled and woolly with the face destroyed and with a fear in my eyes (people were talking about this for a long time in pub).

The asshole was nowhere close. All the harvesters stopped and firemen came to drench my machine with me inside the hot cabin. Before they found the pliers to break the lock my hair and back got into fire – I felt like swallowing fire. Finally I was out and fell down on the black soil. There were light everywhere around me and they took me to the hospital. From a distance I was able to hear Kytka who said to Jana (who was stroking my hand): “Dude, he was on fire like Palach!”. Of course doctors and nurses made fun of me. They put some gel on me and took me back. I hurt just a little bit thanks to the painkillers. I fell asleep and when I woke up I had to jump over Jana and Prcalík who slept there in their sleeping bags.

I had no idea what to do and so I went with Kytka to the field. And old Škoda car went there, the red-faced boss of the whole team came and we had a long discussion about how I was not allowed to say that I did so much damaged to the company, etc. I was declared innocent but till the end of the work I was more by the forest with my friend and beer. The review for my school was done by the boss himself and it was brilliant. Jana did my haircut by the casserole (literally) for the first time since I was a kid and I looked like and asshole. I was shy and even when the weather was too hot I put an orange Tatra cap. My metal honour was almost gone and when the whole craziness ended I had to go to the hairdresser in Boleslav. Unfortunately I had to go bold because of the burnings. I looked like an idiot on all events and hated the jokes about skinheads. My hair was really important for me, it was the expression of a rebellion, the means important for every great party on a concert. A signature sign, sometimes a very greasy signature sign. Yeah, I cried about it, I admit.

We were all invited to the harvest festival where we drunk like dogs – I was like a hero because there was no one before burning during the harvest. I went to the bathroom totally drunk and Prcalík was there punching Venca into his face. “You fucker, you almost killed my friend”: and he gave him another and another punch. I had to break them away and lead Prcalík out otherwise he would kill him. We calmed down on the stairs in front of the concert-hall. I went dancing to some local band concert and they were quite irritating with their speeches. I was actually OK about it and I was glad that I survived. But I obviously had a nickname Palach for a long time. My hair grew. But when I ride by Chotětov with my care sometimes I had a goose bumps. And I had never been in a harvester after that. I just have a authorized amendment in my driver´s licence.

The forty-eight tale – The cassette attack on Jelenia Gora

“Hi guys, are you ready?”: shouted Jana to a sunny holiday day. “Sure, of course”: answered Prcalík. He was the only one wearing only shorts, wallet, passport and black sunglasses. He always said he don´t need anything else. Well of course he didn´t need anything else because we always carried everything for him. It was five in the morning waiting for the bus to Jablonec nad Nisou. Then we jumped on another bus right to Jelenia Gora, the Polish Mekka of cassetts market. There were only four of us going from Mladá Boleslav but during the journey there were more denim weird people like us who decided to spent their hardly earned money and after a while we had a lot of fun with the new music. “Dude, I need to pee”: said Prcalík to the driver and some lady was angry because that was the third time during the journey. “Do you want me to pee in your bag?”: said our friend and I wondered why he made such a big deal from it? I put my headphones from my Sony Walkman in (it was also form Poland) and again for like a millionth time I played Arakain – “Trash the trash” (1990). It was the record Jana gave me that Christmas.

We went in the direction to Turnov and went through the switchback to get to the Jizerské Mountains. Prcalík and Kytka were in the back seats and pretended that they were pilots and buzzed. Everyone was turning on them. Then Kytka, who was surprisingly in a good mood, took out a beer but in the heat the beer foamed at an old gentlemen with a basket. Then they have an argument and I tried to vanish in my seat from shame. Jana shook her head and whispered that she liked me and sat beside me. I probably looked solidly because I had glasses. I kissed her on her cheeks and during the whole ride to Jablonec nad Nisou we were imagining about what we would buy. There were so many ideas but the reality of our wallets was different. It was OK it was the experience we wanted and we were together which was important. In Jablone nad Nisou above the bus station there was a pub with spitted stairs by the doors and a bunch of punkers who were quite drunk. One of them had a rat on his shoulder and then all of us went by bus to Poland. Some drunk punker girl tried to pierce my ear with a safety pin, but I refused.

We were checked at the border. They recorded all of our documents and even took pictures of some of those punkers. “Finally, Poland!”: said a fat older lady into the clicking noise of bottled beers, she was going to Poland to buy some clothes. “Fuck iiiiiiiiiiiit”: yelled Prcalík and I thought to myself that this would be great. We had to stop for pee like another three times. Finally Jelenia Gora. Everyone jumped off the bus and scattered around. Everyone knew how it worked there. Me too, I was there a few times before. So I took my friend to the market where they had tons of metal materials on blankets and tables. Everyone would like something. We had very expensive cassettes in Czech, even CDs and T-Shirts and there they were for a small amount of money. We were so happy there and shopped like crazy. The list of all those gems, artefacts and many times we bought a lot copies in a bad quality and it made us happy. Who cares that the song were sometimes shorter and the T-Shirts were crocked. We were like in heaven and nothing would screw it up for us.

“I don´t have any money left”: said Prcalík who had a bag full of cassettes and CDs. “Me too”: said the rest of us and we had no idea what to do with the time we had left. In the pub nearby we unpacked all the cassettes and even detected first couple of frauds. Prcalík was angry and went back. He was fighting with them and screamed words like: “Polish fuckers, shit, suckersssss”. Then I saw a big men going from behind a curtain. This person put our friend down with just one punch. We went to help him but there were too many Polish people (well, we were in Poland). We ran away and appeared on a circular enclosed cemetery. There was a peace and quiet. We spent the rest of our Poland time there, we were hungry and had no beer. While the drive back to Jablonec nad Nisou Prcalík´s face was still puffy and we told him that it was his own fault. He didn´t believed us and we went walking to the cottage to Nová Ves nad Nisou. We just put the bags in the hallway and went to the firemens´ pub.

There was a local band playing, something crazy and unique. Very weird and stupid. Prcalík stood up because 500 crowns appeared in his pocket. So he went to the singer to tell him that he would pay him to stop singing. Then it was only about beer and what did we buy and who would record what. I sat by the side for a while and watched my friends and I wished for everything to stay like this. We were fanatics, music fans who didn´t even care about a local guy who wanted to fight and we still carried on our debate. We rather bought bottled beers and went to the cottage. We opened our bags in front of the cottage and I took of a halogen and recorder from the barn. We were playing all those records till the sunrise. Over the meadow were screams of MEGADETH, SODOM, DEATH, KREATOR, BATHORY….in the recorder was one legend after another (and we didn´t even know that at that time).

The next day afternoon when we arrived to Boleslav on the panels we were secretive and didn´t want to tell anyone what we bought. We copied record only for our best friends. We had to hold the status of the ones who are tough and do anything for music until the next Poland visit. Prcalík claimed that he beaten up the whole pub and we all laughed at it for a long time. That time the cassette attack on Jelenia Gora was really good.

The forty-ninth tale – “Wanna beer?”

I went off the bus in Florenc (Prague) and I couldn´t have believed that I was alone. Nobody wanted to go with me. Prcalík and Kytka laughed at me and Jana had to do an inventory in her job. Although it was really hot, I had my denim vest and my DIY T-Shirt with Saxon. I thought that everyone went by train when I was going down the stairs to the subway. There were usurers on the right side (or maybe former usurers) and they forced villagers to buy some best quality products. I passed them without any attention. I looked at a person in denim shorts with face and look of Jim Morrison. He had a big sign SAXON on his T-Shirt, just like I did. “Wanna beer?”: he screamed at me and I jumped. “Ok”: I replied.

People called him Rybízek and he took me to a dirty place next to Štvanice in Prague. I experienced a lot of similar meetings because the metal community held together and whenever you went there was always someone who would take care of you. My new friend had no money, of course, but he knew almost everyone we met. “Are you going to see the RUNNING WILD?”: I asked, just to hold the conversation. All around me there were long-hair dudes but were more fans of Plastic People of the Universe rather than metal. Some of them nodded their heads, others just groaned dismissively and said that that was not underground enough. So I sat by the fans table, we talked about music and Rybízek disappeared. Then he was there again and told me: “I hope you don´t have a ticket, we are going for free!” Well, I didn´t have a ticket but I had money from two pay checks from my part-time job so if this was going to continue, I would be poor again. But then I just bought everyone another beer, no questions asked. The one who had money always paid.

We went slowly to Štvanice. Right next to us on the lawn was a comedian. His name was Cat and his family just turned on the autodrome. Our group of drunk hairy fans of RUNNING WILD was interesting for them so we were driving the cars like crazy. Then there was like a half an hour ride of some dudes who were hitting each other in the cars, turned the cars upside down and just did a lot of interesting things. They each had a bottle of beer in their hands, crazy laugh and mess everywhere. Suddenly, someone turned off the electricity and expelled us away. “Bitches”: said Rybízek and we went on. There was a back door and an old lady who was a guard there. He said she was his relative. We were inside and I went to the front line. Although I knew only “Death or Glory” by RUNNING WILD, I loved this album so much that I had to be right below the stage. The first tones were on and I just screamed during the whole concert with my clumsy English. The time run out and I was sweaty, exhausted and not able to talk. We went to get a beer.

We talked about the concert and I was ecstatic. After a while, when we were more and more drunk, Rybízek thought about going to a “great place in Václavské square”. So we went with him. A few hairy dudes went with us, they were around 40-50 years old, basically old guys for me. We sat in the pub, it was so horrible and there were all the moustached and beardy guys all around the place. I was definitely the youngest one there. I drank and drank and talked. And then: “Well, wake-up young man. It is the last station!” and there was a train ticket collector right above me. “Where am I?”: I asked, puzzled. I was told that I was in Mladá Boleslav. I get off the train and was insanely scared. I checked all my belongings, my body parts but it seemed that everything was OK. I was walking through the grey street in Mladá Boleslav and slowly started to remember. But there was a time gap between Václavské square and Boleslav where I had no idea. I fell asleep immediately when I came home, I didn´t even want to eat.

The RUNNING WILD concert in 1991 has been one of the bests I have ever seen. I talked about if for a long time. I just didn´t tell anyone my journey back to Boleslav. My mother found me a part-time job for summer in some cleaning company in Prague and I went there every day by bus. On the third day, when I was too exhausted and thought I was dreaming all the time, I went to the subway on Florenc. “Wanna beer?”: said someone. “Can´t, gotta work”: I replied and I was told that work is only for pussies. “I have to have money for cassettes, CDs, beer, something and school”: I tried to explain to this hairy dude. “Ok, I will wait there in the afternoon for you”: screamed Rybízek behind me and I prayed for him not to wait there. In the afternoon, I managed to escape. My job was over in a few days so I had a quiet time for a while.

I finally had some time off and we were going by the Jizera River with the guys. It was summer, we were throwing stones into the river and laughed Jana that she was too bad at that. Prcalík ran into the water fully clothed. What a crazy summer, 1991. I jumped there too. Kytka tore his shorts with a wooden stick and there was blood. We were still laughing – “Tore ass, tore ass”: we screamed in the water. We swam over the river, happy, young and restless. “Look dude, a tent?!”: screamed Prcalík. It was not a tent but shed, just a roof which is often build by homeless people. Rybízek went off the shed with some ugly and obviously drugged (probably toluene) girl without teeth. We said hi and he explained to me that the girl´s name was Lenka and she lured him into Boleslav. We gave them beer and talked for a long time by the fire. Rybízek was not the kind of person I would remember, but this rebel without cause in himself had a big piece of freedom in him. And we were young and envied him.

In Prague, he get to know underground, read books which we didn´t know and he listened to (for us at that time) unknown music. So this homeless with a figure and visage of Jim Morrison completed our knowledge. We were giving him snacks and beer on our bikes and we were with him and listening him talking about Kerouack, Bukowski and his favourite Hemingway (we didn´t like him at school). We discovered DOORS, silently apologized to our parents for hating PINK FLOYD for being too slow and boring. I remember this figure with love. But as you know, the Tales of a Dead Man are not about happy things and Rybízek was haunted by his life.

I didn´t really read the Black Book in the winter of 1991/1992. I never liked newspapers. But my father just putted them on the table right in the middle of the lunch. Black and white, hairy face looked like Jim Morrison. My dad left to work and he took the newspapers with him. So it was probably the first time I bought one for myself. I ran to the panels, everyone were standing there in the cold. I was able to see my breath in the air and we talked about the possibility of Rybízek being in the newspapers. On the paper, black on white, in an ugly way and shivering way the words about a dead man founded. He was a frozen homeless person, former father and constructer in ČKD, 42 years old. We just stood there and somehow automatically gave him one minute of silence. Then into the silence Kytka said: “Wanna beer?” We laughed like crazy and that day in the Pub by an Oak we told so many stories from Rybízek.

Hey, Rybízek, dude, I am good so far. But someday when I walk with my family around the Jizera River I get into a weird mood. It feels like I am waiting for you to be behind a tree and yelled at me “Wanna beer?”. I would just apologized to everybody and went to talk endlessly about books, music with you. We would drink Podkováň beer, because it is made again. Well, you old fool, I think about you sometimes. So see you later.

The fiftieth tale – Get out of here you ugly occultists!

My family knew Kytka´s parent for years. My friend´s father recently committed suicide (we called him Old Tiger because he had stripped beard). I asked my mom if me and Kytka could go to the cottage. The school ended early and we wanted to have two weeks in the Jizerské Mountains while listening the sound of bottled beers, just hanging out and listening some music. That would made him think about something different. My nice mother agreed but she wanted me to take care of him and not to drink too much, not to have strangers in the cottage, and so on. I would promised anything to her at that time. So in one July morning (I got my first B on the school review, till that day I only had As, well teacher´s pet) two denim guys went to the train station. We had Polish sneakers on, each had a bag and Kytka had an extra bag with cassettes.  

“Sabath gave me some special ones and some of them we haven´t even heard yet”: said my friend and this time we were quit glad that Prcalík didn´t go. At that time he was just getting into our nerves, it happens in the groups of people. Jana was working so we didn´t have any lady company. “Satan saves you!”: said someone behind us. It was Sabath who forgot two cassettes. I threw them into the bag, we thanked him and run away. We had to be quick since the train was leaving soon, we didn´t even get a beer. The train was jumping in the direction to Turnov. We went to get a beer there and took another train to Jablonec. There was a couple of girls sitting right in front of us and I tried to by funny. They went to Liberec, too bad, we could have had a company for the night.

We went up the hill and looked forward to get a beer. I opened the cottage which was smelly because no one was there for a while. I took a mower and mow the lawn. We took the player outside the cottage, get a bunch of Klášter beers and went through the Sabath´s cassettes. That night we went to bed in the deep night. I wanted Kytka to play some death metal but he wanted something different. I was falling asleep and heard my friend crying to the night. I missed his father also. The next day we went 4 kilometres to get to a shop. We took a lot of bread, salami, beer and litres of milk because I am addicted to it even now.

We took the morning off, an afternoon siesta and then Kytka put MASTER´S HAMMER in the player. Firstly the album “Jilemnický okultista”. I jumped off the chair and had to see the cassette. It was original! We read the lyrics, listened to the story and played it for a long time, just this one album. The lights on the streets were on, the forest behind our cottage was rustling and we were screaming the lyrics. We screamed until we were exhausted. Then we just laid down in front of the cottage, the freshly English lawn was cold. I hoped that Kytka would forget about something just for a minute. And we left to go to sleep. In a minute I heard just snoring.

The next morning we discovered another album called Ritual. It was like an idol for months for us, a worship. We knew it by heart. But we didn´t know it yet. We just thought about going to the local graveyard to set the right mood. More beers we had, more realistic the idea was. So then we just left around the asphalt road above Smržovka where an old tower of a church was. Below it was a graveyard full of German and Polish names. We sat on the wall and hummed the MASTER´S HAMMER lyrics and were so dark. A dog barked a few times but that was it, silence. We were becoming the Jilemnický occultists (or more Smržkovka occultists). We jumped off the wall to see the graves.

Nothing was happening and I just heard a prayer between us since we were saying the lyrics of those blasphemous lyrics. Kytka knelt before a cross in the middle of the way. He thanked his father for everything and cried for him. I left him there to give him some space and sat on a bench. I looked on the landscape and there was a train going in the distance. It sprawled and I felt weird. Like in microgravity. I don´t know, it took a lot of time and I was awaken by a light. “Get out of here you ugly occultists!”: screamed some gayish voice and we looked behind us. There was a figure in robes, hands clasped. We jumped in shock but were not able to run away. The guy jumped over the wall and caught my hand. I was terrified. “We did nothing, we just….”: I tried to explain, being 17 years old. “Some people like you go here and destroy the stones”: said the priest of the local church.

I don´t know if he let us go because of my glasses or because Kytka was scared that he brought his death father to life. We sat on the stairs in front of the church to let the die people sleep and we talked. Firstly shyly but it become more and more friendly. When this member of the Catholic Church found out that we liked metal music he was not happy. But we told him about Jilemnický occultist which was important for us that night. “I worked there before I went to Smržovka”: he said happily. We talked about religion and then he told us a long story about spiritualists which he read in an old book in rectory. We were so interested and decided to go there the next morning. Then we took one beer in front of the cottage and planned the whole journey.

Firstly, we went to Jestřebí where we found some tablets to weavers. And that was it. Then Jilemnice but the museum was closed and the lady by the door didn´t want to let us in. We were confused and the excitement was falling. We put one album by MASTER´S HAMMER in our headphones, sat by the fountain till the late afternoon. We gave up. We were waiting for the bus and were excited to get a beer.

From the alley next to the station came out an old men with a wand. “Where are you going, gentlemen?”: he asked with shivering voice. I told him our story. For a while this old men look in the distance, like he was looking for old memories and then he said: “Well, before the war, when there were Germans, we did some spiritualistic séances. I was young and there was a girl….what was her name, yeah, Blaženka…she had beautiful breasts…yeah I was a ladies’ man at that time…and we just sat down, turned off the lights, lighted up the candles and held hands. Sometimes there was someone heard from the world beyond, but there was one dude..he was a good medium…” Then he just slowly left. He turned on us and nodded his head. And again asked where we were going.

Our bus was there so we waved to the old man and we talked about it in the cottage. The whole night was only about switching between MASTER´S HAMMER albums. We fell asleep and I dreamed about the old grey men who came to say hi to me. I had a beautiful, crazy dream about my childhood. How I punched my grandfather, who was basically like a half-god for me, to his broken arm and when I apologized he just touched my cheek. Then we went around a meadow, holding hands and he picked me up and I smelled the tobacco on his face and the cologne. He gave me a kiss and scratched my whole face. I was screaming of joy. Then I woke up, sit up and had tears on my face. My Slayer T-Shirt was wet.

Me and Kytka we both experienced some crazily special days. Thanks to music and probably beer we were in some ethereal state of mind. After a long time, Kytka told me that it was so comforting for him and it helped him to deal with his father´s death. When I saw him in a hospital, he was an older guy and was almost dead, he told me that in that time in the cottage he had similar experience as I did. His father came into his dream to say goodbye. I hugged him so tight that he almost felt apart in my hands. That was the last time I saw him. But we can talk about this in another time, if I find the courage to do so.

This story was in the back of my head for a long time, for 24 years. I hope my friend would forgive me for writing it. I couldn´t resist, I had to do it. Knowing him, I know that he would just laugh about it.

The fifty-first tale – The scythe fell on a stone

I was in the Mladá Boleslav´s train station, waiting for me metal friends. In the boot they were selling beer already despite the fact that they were not open till 10 o´clock. We wanted this day to be great so we left early in the morning. The 30th of June, 1992, my world had changed forever. But when I stood on the train station I had no idea yet. I stood there, looked at morning drunk people. Kytka a Prcalík went to me with a lot of dirty words. Jana was late, again. “You are like cockroaches”: I smiled. “Bullshit”: said Prcalík, just to hold the conversation. We had money, bottled beers and the guys were smoking like crazy. Above us were clouds of smoke and the beer was warming our bodies. It was June, the school was over and me and Kytka were in our second year of studies. People sometimes called us: Boiled metal stupid faces.

I took off my shoes in the train and a lot of people were offended. Kytka wanted to threw my shoes out of the window. I laughed and my legs were tangled up with Jana´s. It was nothing sexual, we knew about that. The guys were sputtering – maybe they were coughing too much I thought. But nothing would made the day wrong. We were so excited. We were going to Prague where, for the last time ever, NAPALM DEATH, OBITUARY and DISMEMBER played. In the beginning, no one wanted to go. All of my friends, except Kytka, thought it was too hard music, too much scream and too evil. We met a similar group of dudes in the main train station. We said hi to guys from Jablonec and clicked our bottles with beautiful girls´ bottles from Liberec. We came with the same train. Everybody were smoking and joking. Some of those villagers took it in their own way and laid down on a grass right next to homeless people and drug dealers. There was such peace in that moment, maybe even melancholy.

I don´t even remember the name of the pub right next to the Sports Hall. I just know that I was messing around one girl from Liberec all the time, lured her to go to the cottage with me and we just had a great time together, mostly me. As Prcalík always did I just talked her into it. But she disappeared in the crowd in the concert hall. We arrived early. We went inside in the middle of the group of people and I felt sick. I wanted to go to the bathroom. I lost all of my friends and was alone during the whole concert. Right in front of me, there was a hundred kilo heavy mammoth and I was not able to see at all. I sneaked almost below the stage and was there the whole night. DISMEMBER killed me. OBITUARY cursed me. Till that day I was trash maniac but then it changed me into death metal guy. The scythe fell on the stone and I rotted alive, my bones were rattling. I was amazed by the performances of both of those bands and I was living one of my biggest dreams. It was great. Only NAPALM DEATH were too hard for me, too unapproachable and I didn´t understand them. During their concert I met “my” friend from Liberec (I went out of the crowd and was not able to go back) and we spend the concert talking to each other nicely.

The concert was over and they forced us out of the building. And my friends were still nowhere around. I was confused, hungry and exhausted. Again, I lost my beauty form Liberec and started to swear. “Shit, where the hell are they?” Finally I went out and breathed in the fresh air and right in front of me on a wall there were my denim friends, sitting like blue pigeons. “Dude where are you?”: asked Kytka, immediately. They left right after the first band. They didn´t see the concert which was so important in my life and rather sat outside and talk. I was angry and sad for them. They told me that it was too hard for them and no one really understood it. They basically went there just because of me. I was sad. I had to get something to drink so I went to a non-stop store and spent 180 Czech crowns for two currant juices. “Fuck you, Prague”: I screamed angrily.

I mumbled about it too loud, there was some local proud metal person who slapped me a few times. I didn´t want to fight and thought only about how are my friends far away from me in case of music taste. “Kuba, it´s OK. We would go on some trash, all right?”: hugged me Jana by my shoulders and I was getting more OK. We went to a pub and drunk as crazy. With the alcohol I realized that I just had experienced an epiphany. I felt like the Death itself visited me (and I really felt like this). The concert of OBITUARY and DISMEMER was life changing but also in case of my music taste. I saw people in capes with scythes, with no faces, everywhere I went. Even during the morning when we left the pub and went to the train, drunk.

The train stopped in Boleslav and we went together to the settlement. We were silent. Tired, lost in all the greyness. There was a sunrise above the Škoda factory and between the chimney and the hill Chlum was red glow. “Ok, see ya”: I said to the murmuring of the light wind. They only mumbled something. I laid down on the bed at least for an hour. I had to go to work in Sovinky in the orchard. I still saw the covered ethereal figures while falling asleep. “Wake up guys!” sounded in the room. My mom was standing in the door and smiled. I felt like I was dying. I was moaning the lawn the whole day, collected fruits and was excited to go on Radouč to the panels. I was the only one from our group who talked about the amazing experience, about the concert of my life. After a few years my friend, like people always do, brought a little bit of lies in the story and told everybody how the night was perfect. But I know the truth.

In the day of 30th of June 1992 I completely feel to the musical death without even knowing how or without understanding. It was a very important date in my life and my extreme metal heart was broken and a new one was created while it fell on a stone like the scythe. Although I had a lot of CDs at home with death metal, I truly appreciated them only after the June trip. I was in the edge of change, I was like a hero from Kavka´s story who became a spider. The first ones were VADER, then KRABATHOR but the DISMEMBER and OBITUARY was the leaders who took me to the dark side. Since then I listen to the trash metal but my mind was more and more into old abandoned graveyards.

The fifty-second tale – Dear Sally…

“Hi, my name is Nora and my boyfriend doesn´t fit in me…Dude what the hell”: commented Prcalík this made up story from very popular (at that time) magazine Mladý svět (Young World). None of us bought it because we thought it was so stupid but we had one friend who brought us a bunch of them. But he cut off the beautiful Samantha Fox. “Maybe her boyfriend puts his thing in a different hole, there are some crazy people out there”: laughed Jana and we were so happy. I took out some beers from my grandmother´s net bag. My friends told me I was a good person and I blushed. The weather was supposed to be hot. We were on the north side of the panels, right in the shadow and still thought about going on Švarďák – a flooded quarry just above Boleslav. “Let´s go, but Nora is coming with me!”: said Prcalík and it was a sing for going.

I took Jana on my bike and went up the hill, I was puffing on her back and looked at her neckline. She had a Slayer T-Shirt and became a girl in our dream for a while, again. Kytka and Prcalík were already in the water when we arrived. I was sweaty, panting but had so much adrenalin in me so I just jumped into the water full of sand and ducks. I swam from one side to another, I always loved water. Then we just laid down on the grass. “We should get a beer, dear Sally”: said Prcalík chauvinistically to Jana and she went to the pub to get some. It was not right probably and the guys were laughing at me but I went with her. It felt really good to go outside with this beautiful girl so everyone saw me with her. The pub “Under the Chestnut” welcomed us with the smell of beer, stale and the old regular customers. “Dude, she is hot!”: said one of them while wondering why this skinny and ugly boy with glasses had this beautiful girl. Jana told him to go fuck himself and gave me a big kiss, to make him more angry. I was shining like a Sun.

We went inside and bought a few bottled beer and went back. We even get one drafted beer there. It was too hut and the world was spinning. “Jarka is talking about oral sex, AKA fellatio”: yelled Prcalík and all of the resting swimmers were laughing. “I would suggest to Jarka to try it on the pin for vegetables planting”: he went on and on and I rather went to the water. The bottles were clicking, we were sunbathing, were young and had no problems, had the sparkle in our eyes which most people lost during the stereotypical lives. “Dude, I should write them. They can´t write Pavlína to not sleep with her boyfriend, that´s not normal!”: laughed our friend and we wondered how to put him down. We threw pine cones on him and the entire beach starter a huge fight.

I took my bike and went to the water. Yeah, people liked it. “Dear Sally, what should I do when I wet my balls while biking right into the water?”: choked Prcalík near the surface and lost his bike for a minute in the water. We helped him to take his bike out the water and Jana´s T-Shirt went off. We stood there amazed. Our dreams came through. “Sally you can go fuck yourself! This is life, these are the real boobs!”: yelled our friend and Jana threw her Shirt on him. The water was warm, in the middle of summer and we didn´t want to go home. We were exhausted from swimming and the light erotica and went on our bikes to the pub “Under the Chestnut”. I sat on a side to control Prcalík – he always did an incident. I ordered a few Klášter beers and we drank them really fast.

The rest was somehow oblivious for me and I just felt the moment. The chestnuts falling into the foam of our beers. Jana´s smile which we all loved as much as her body. I sipped a little bit of this amazing drink, bend behind and I was almost moved on. I didn´t want this moment to end. I wanted to have it in my mind forever. “Ooooooooou, someone is in loooove, dude you look like crazy person, drink!”: Prcalík pushed my glass and the foam went on my glasses. The glass of beer was broken and I had a beer all over my shorts. “Noooo, but I am just so happy to be with you guyssss!!!!” I answered confusingly and was glad that they let me be for a minute.

We finished the beer, took off our bikes and went down the hill without breaks (who breaks is a pussy!). Jana was on my bike again and I was still watching her breasts. We went by the forest path, by the Radouč and there was a confused gopher (they are still there!). We fell into the grass, tangled in the bike and each other. My head was between Jana´s breasts so I didn´t feel anything, anything hurt. “I have a friend who lured a girl on the bike so it looks like he is fucking her”: said laughing Kytka above me and helped me to stand up. We went home, said bye to each other and I put my Eska bike to the cellar. I wished that summer with Sally never ended.

The fifty-third tale – The wild Jizera River

We little bit (or a lot) envied Prcalík because he was able to go to the restaurant and eat the freshly caught trout. A waiter just caught him right from the hotel window in Železný Brod. He sat on the window above the sparkling Jizera River and fishing. We wanted the fish so bad. Well, we had money from our part-time jobs and summer jobs but we had to save money for our river mission. It was close. We were waiting for the boats – Prcalík´s father (the enterprising man) were supposed to bring them from Germany. His father never saved money on his son and always gave him something. “He doesn´t give a fuck about me, so he should pay”: that was Prcalík´s summarization of his relationship with his father and went into the restaurant. We went to the Small Square and sat on a bench. We ate salami. My father loved alcohol and Kytka was half orphan. And Jana, she didn´t like these kinds of restaurants.

“Well, they did a big deal from it, but it was not that good”: said Prcalík a looked like a cool boy. He gave all of us one bottled Pilsner beer. I was talking to myself angrily for a while because I have been always a landsman. I love water but only as a swimmer. I dare to go by canoe for the first time. I don´t even remember whose crazy idea it was. Instead of drinking at home on the panels or going on some great concert we were standing by the Jizera River and looked for a Prcalík´s father van. Finally, he arrived and I felt like the canoe was too big. The guys tossed who would go with who and of course I had the worst partner. I was with Jana, both of us had no experiences about that. Prcalík and Kytka always went paddling so they had a lot of experiences. I put all the stuff in the barrel (they said it was waterproof), put some bottled beers in the canoe and settled Jana in the front (they call the person in the front “háček”) and I tried to sit in. I was trying but I fell in the water. Well, so far so fun.

“Ahooooooooooy”: called some people on the water on Jane who stripped to swimming suit. I managed to get a few shots in the water with the paddle so the canoe launched. Although it was going on the right all the time, I was really happy that the monster was moving. However, I didn´t realize that there was a weir. Jana screamed terrified, people were waving at us and yelling something about this weir not being passable. I just didn´t know what to do. So we just went right in the middle of the frothy crest of the water, then long jump and down where was rotating water. We somehow did it and after a moment of an absolute silence there was a huge applause. Apparently there was no one who would go through it for many years. If they even knew…I thought to myself and I was glad that the water there was calm. Prcalík and Kytka were paddling like Indians and I felt like they did one move and they canoe moved in a few meters. We were still rotating in a circle. I was getting angry.

I tried to go around a group of camouflage fishermen but I didn´t managed to do so. The boat was tangled in the fishing lines and if I didn´t have Jana and her breasts they would probably kill me. “They are fish fuckers”: said Jana when we escaped from the fishing lines and our graceful ride continued. I heard Slayer and Bathory mixing in the distance. It was the guys relaxing in the calm water, drinking beer and greeting young ladies on boats. They were living their lives and I was fighting for mine. We were still going in circles and I just couldn´t have believed that Jana was able to stay with me. She didn´t even mind that we went into the water in a shallow. Our barrels went away from us for a while and although we caught them the mine was OBVIOUSLY NOT WATERPROOF. Everything was wet. My DIY Vader T-Shirt, Chinese sneakers, my head and glasses. I didn´t saw or hear anything and was exhausted. They said that we already went 6 kilometres.

I would never believe how much can human body take. I was a galley slave who was convicted to paddle until his death. That was how I felt. Finally, a pub. I went to the bar, my legs were shaking. “Hey dude, your boat is leaving”: yelled some bearded dude who looked like a sailor. “Fuck the boat”: I replied angrily but I ran there and jumped in the water. Everyone laughed at me. When they were done, I got a beer. Klášter, joy, Jana was next to me and she looked good like never before. Everyone thought that she was mine. We went for 10 kilometres. 5 more to go. I drank a few more beer and tried to sit in the boat. The whole pub was watching me nervously. Well, of course I didn´t manage to sit in the boat at the first time. So I was really glad when we were behind the curve.

“Ahooooooy”: again someone went in front of us. “Fuck that”: I invented my own greeting and I was using it for this whole madness. The boat went by itself, above the river was a temple and bowing trees. I dreamed for a while and was part of the nature, I watched the deer coming to drink and I wanted to go sit on the grass and stay there. I was looking on Jana´s panties which were visible from her denim shorts and I thought about our agreement. We said we would never have sex together. She paddled so easily, I was even able to see her breasts from the back. She took of the upper part of her swimming suit after she asked me with the beautiful smile which only sensual woman can do. I dreamily agreed and was not able to breath. She turned towards me and I felt like I was in a paradise (well, except from the canoe and smelly river). She bended back (touched her hair), I will remember this move forever and at that moment I loved her so much. “Watch out!”: screamed Jana and a branch hit my face. I fell in the water where just a dirt instead of two white breasts was.

Jana jumped for me. I was a good swimmer, but after the branch hit me I was not really able to move. She said I looked like a log with white stomach, spinning in the stream of the Jizera River. Then I went down and she was not able to find me. The canoe woke me up hitting my head and on the other side was a stone on a shallow. Jana told me she thought she would never find me again. Prcalík said that I must have been like a whale (and that was my nickname through this adventure). The truth is that I lost my glasses, one sneaker and had a big lump on my head. The only great thing about it was that when I woke up the first thing I saw was Jana´s swinging boobs when she tried to get me on the ground while crying. Well my head was hard, so everything was fine.

To the pub where we were supposed to sleep, we get in the evening. I just swam and dragged the canoe with Jana behind me. “You were fucking somewhere or what?”: said Prcalík from the shore with a bottled beer in his hand and I felt like a pilgrim who found a water (yuck!). Someone started to clapping hands and I realized that Jana didn´t have her bikini on. When we were finally on the ground I was kissing the grass like a pope who just came to visit the New Land. Everyone was surprised to see that. I took a chance and told everyone how experienced I was. I pull the canoe from the river, just in case and I literally run in the pub. I took the glass of beer and felt like this evening was going to be wild. Some water guru came to me and gave me a rum. I finally felt like I was alive and told him my story.

Perhaps for the first time ever in my life the whole pub was listening my story. Who cares that my stories were made up? I just made up some stories from South America where I went to ride wild rivers. I was a little bit nervous about one young Prague guy who was in South America but I read a lot of book about Indians so I was fine. Suddenly there was a bunch of people around me and I felt my friends looking at me amazingly. “Dude, whale (this nickname was given to him in Africa, said Kytka) tell us more…you are my water god”: laughed Prcalík and everyone wanted more. Then I saw a small, black hair girl beside me. She was the kind of a girl with brown deer eyes and you would do anything for those eyes. She was looking at me like I was a saint and I felt sooo good.

When I left the pub to go to the bathroom, Jana was there and asked me to sleep in her tent with her. I gave her one beer/rum kiss and I drunkenly suggested a threesome. She slapped me with a smile and went to sleep. I went back to the girl. It went well. Despite the fact that I didn´t have my glasses, one shoe and was bruised, but women are women. Alenka, a doll, that how I called her and I really think it was her name, she made up everything for me which happened that day in her tent. She was fine and so beautiful and only mine for that night. Well, not for the whole night. In the morning a water boss caught me by my feet and pushed me out of the tent. He wanted to kill me. It was actually his daughter. I stood by Jana and heard her heavy breathing. I felt so bad to go drunk to her tent so I just fell asleep in front of her tent´s door.

Prcalík woke me up with his laugh and also some snail who crawled on my face. I had a big headache, was shivering with cold and the only thing which made me better was Kytka´s rum. Everyone went to see us leaving. Alenka, the doll looked at me like I was a god, her father was punching his fists together and the rest of the people were waiting to see me go in the canoe. Well, I managed to sit in the canoe which was good, but when Jana sat I paddled for a while and turned the boat half way upside down. My head was in the water again and I was angry and humiliated. “What cool guy and he is even funny!”: screamed someone in the distance after Jana pulled me from the water. Then we continued for another 5 days on the Jizera River.

I look pitiful when Prcalík´s father came for us. I broke my watched from my grandfather, lost and wet all my documents and had no money. I hit my back, did something with my ankle and hate water. I was like a whale because I survived all of this. We stayed for a while in Bakov and there was Alenka, the doll, again. But this time, she didn´t have her father with her. Well, I was happy to see her but instead of enjoying her body I rather enjoyed her hospitality. She was the carrying type, had the “mother” instinct and she healed me like a very sexy nurse and cook in one body. She was such a good cook and I needed to eat so much.

I will never be a paddler but I have to admit that it is definitely great in some points. But I would rather go to the pubs by rivers with a good beer, rum and ground under my feet. So “Ahooooy” or “Fuck it!”.

The fifty-fourth tale – The best leather jacket

It looked like I was the poorest one. Kytka was right behind me but Prcalík had money from his father and Jana was working. I was not envious but when I saw Jana in her brand new leather jacket and underneath she had only a T-Shirt with her breasts I was angry. I went to school, worked during the evening, was doing a part-time jobs during weekends but I spent everything on concerts and music. I had not much left. I sat on an old broken sofa, there was a lightbulb on the ceiling. I felt like a poor person wearing my homemade T-Shirt and old jeans with holes on them.

We pulled out beers and I plugged the base in because I was too angry. I did one trash riff after another and get into an alcoholic/music high and I waited for the rest of the group. Jana jumped on the sofa and did something like “non-dirty striptease”. Nothing vulgar, but more like erotic game which made Kytka and Prcalík to stare with open mouths. “Well, that´s enough”: I said and took my Hohnerka from my shoulders. I sat in the corner by the fridge. “What´s up? What´s the matter with you? You didn´t masturbate yesterday or what?”: asked Prcalík and punched my shoulder. I laughed sadly and told him about my incredible desire to have a nice leather jacket. The one Marlon Brando, Joe Ramone and James Dean (the hero of our grandmothers) had. “Fuck that, you´ll have money for it right?”: said Kytka and invited us to the summer cinema to see an erotic movie.

“Yeah, that would be different than the weird aunts in LEO (erotic magazine)”: Prcalík opened one dog-eared magazine from the cabinet and laughed along the faces and poses of the post-revolutionary wannabe models. “Dude, this one´s face is like she is stupid”: we screamed to the metal garage doors and we never commented nothing erotic. Only Jana said that she would like to have the bed from the picture 25 at home. I was angry again when I saw a model named Sara with a leather jacket. “Unshaved bitches!”: I said and went to a park in the forest Štěpánek to calm down. The movie Emanuela (1974) was in Czech in 1990 and it was boring as the girls in Leo. During the broadcast there were only a few incidents between Prcalík and the rest of the audience. He dubbed the movie scenes, especially the erotic ones and was even more loud during the “fucking scenes”. He wanted the rest on the cinema to have a really deep experience.

I was not very interested in the ladies from Bangkok and Emanuela herself. I just imagined being in Prague in a store and trying a leather jacket, my first one ever. I swore to myself that I would put money by side and I would buy the dream jacket. I was woken up by some villager who wanted to have sex in the night so he took his lady to the cinema to see an “erotic movie”. Now he was chasing Prcalík among the benches. His lady had a very sad look on her face (aka salacious bitch and she looked at me) so I just run away. Jana went with me, we didn´t finish the movie. I was falling asleep with only one thought in my head. I needed to go to Prague, Holešovice (big market) to see what they have. In the flat next to us was a neighbour doing something with the dishes. He came from work and wanted a warm dinner from his wife. Then they had sex and fell asleep.

The next day, Saturday, I jumped on my bike. 54 kilometres along an old road and 54 back. It was not that bad for me. I was going through the Prague market in Holešovice and one store had leather goods. “4000 dude, but it´s from Germany”: said the shop assistant and she had the same look as the women from Leo, 1990. “Well, fuck that then”: I gave up and rather went home. In the night I had a long discussion with my father who was surprisingly sober. I promised me a part-time job in Škoda factory. It was for 14 day during nights and I was cleaning cranes for 12 hours. I had vertigo, breathed a tons of dust. My payment was 3500,-. I was so sad, 500,- was so much money at that time for me.

In the end it was my uncle who helped me, he had mercy on me. His name was Josef and he was a political prisoner in two political modes and he was a very good person. “There, take some money and study. Just don´t let the communists to go back to power or fascists. I just cannot go to Jáchymov or Terezín, I am too old for this. And he gave me 1000,-. I almost kissed his hands and went 50kilometres from Jablonec nad Nisou to Boleslav like a dragon. The dream was so close.

The festive purchase on the jacket made in Holešovice was a great even for me and my friends. I was standing in front of the shop assistant – she was probably a prostitute. I was touching the leather so I looked like a professional. Irving Schott who founded his company with jackets in 1928 would be happy about my performance. He called his goods Perfecto and he was right. The jacket fitted me so great. It was black, classic, perfect and smelled like a new thing. “Well, the older ones are better but you will have to make it dirty”: said Prcalík during my payment and I just had to think about all those long nights in the factory. The deal was done. I was walking like a peacock through the whole market and I just from curiosity took a look in a shop with “dirty jackets for the real motorbike riders” – that was the sign on the store. I just saw the price 7000.- and quickly left.

It was a very big deal so we went to the pub. We drank Bráník (because it was drinkable, yet) and then we left to the panels and in the end to our base the Pub by an Oak where my friends baptized the jacket. Finally, Prcalík even peed on it and said that this is what motorbike riders do. I just laughed about all of that and was the happiest boy in the world.
Me and my leather jacket from Holešovice we were like best friend for a long years. It was my hallmark, part of my, almost every day (only during the summer when was 30°). Short, competed with a T-Shirt in the summer, in the winter with long knitted sweater from my grandma.

I like old things, they have souls for me. Every time I went home to see my parents in Boleslav I went to the back to see the closet. Just to see how much I gained weight and how my youth was awesome. It was always there. Just hanging there and I was able to smell all the concerts, smell of young girls and even the smell of beer and cigarettes. I even tried to put it on a few times but my wife told me I looked like in a condom. There are just memories.

Then my mother threw it away when she remade the flat. I stood there in the new dressing room for 15 minutes, just looking in the wall and then I just left outside. Radouč was silent. I sat in the grass and did some notes for today´s story and then I saw a tall guy in Slayer T-Shirt who was walking tentatively on the forest path. Firstly I was shocked but then I realized that it was not me because I was still alive and there is nothing like reincarnation.

The boy who looked like me 26 years ago just had the same walk as me, big Adam’s apple and round glasses. He also had a leather jacket on. I just felt that the circle was completed.

The fifty-fifth tale – I don´t trust any flannel grunge.

Boys and girls in flannel shirts seemed like a great change compared to the heavy and glam posers. And that included their resistance against the village stupid parties. But then I realized it was just a pose and I made fun of them just like Prcalík and Kytka did. For a while Jana fell for the charm of Kurt Cobain but we called him Cocaine. But after a few of his interviews she didn´t care about him. The biggest problem probably was that we just felt that this new wave was very boring. “That´s nothing new, just recycle punk but they have better clothes so they can sell it better”: said Kytka everytime we talked about it in a pub and we agreed.

But girls liked it so there were a lot of groups in Boleslav with signs NIRVANA on their T-Shirts and all of them was riding skateboards on Mírové square. We just felt that we were weird. The Grunge hit even younger guys than we were. We like the older bands, heavies and rockers from the old days so we just felt like we were “old” suddenly, 17 years old. There were some situations in the Pub by an Oak when we hunted boarders. You just run, trod the person´s skate at the back and then you just watching him fall. I thought it was fun. But the bitches talked about us and beaten Prcalík.

Of course we organized a retaliation. And because there was always more of us we fought them up and it was fine. The Grunge started to piss us up. There were some bands who did great albums but we always hated the so-called rebellion and I don´t believe it till today. But the girls were fine, they have long straight hair and finally didn´t have the crazy perm on their hair (well they did on villages for another 10 years). “You know what is the worst?”: said Prcalík in the pub all the time. “When there is a grunge girl with depesh fan having sex”: we added in one voice and Jana said: “Poor child”.

Down in Debř, they have a disco and they played metal for us for one hour. Sometimes around 11 o´clock the local DJ played a few songs and we were happy and went to another pub. The interesting thing was that we were the “stupid dirty metalheads” for the grunge maniacs. Kytka even brought one girl who loved Bravo magazine (teenagers magazine from the 90ths ) to the panels. She read the articles for cool girls and rebel girls. She run away from us crying because we made fun of her of not knowing Conrad Thomas Lant (Cronos). “I would not date her”: said Prcalík and he didn´t even liked her beautiful ass and how she was moving with it.

The Grunge movement was not for us, the crazy maniacs from the panels. The time changed our orthodox attitude because you become more open during your life. But the flannel grunge was just not believable for me.

The fifty-sixth tale – The man who came from the Hell
We almost had no idea that Praclík had a sister until he invited us for her wedding. He didn´t really speak about her that much and it felt like he was jealous of her. She was older, not really beautiful or smart and our friend introduce her to us like this: “So, Jiřina was humped by some soldier and she is pregnant and have to get married. She wants a lot of people at her wedding so we are inviting you guys.” It was at the time when her fiancé was on some mission. He went to Yugoslavia. “And when exactly did you guys screwed it?”: asked Kytka who was probably the biggest pacifist. We learned that they meet in Liberec where the soldiers had some camp. It was just a classic story. A young girl, disco bar, alcohol, dancing and then sex behind a bus stop. “Well, that´s sad. But Mr. soldier has a character if he wants to marry our Jiřinka.”: added Prcalík´s mother with a specific ringing voice. We had knew his mother forever. She was a great cook and was very patient with us and her son. So we suited up because of her.

I went to pick up Jana in front of her house. I met her father who was drunk as hell. Jana came down the stairs and my heart stopped. She was the girl I knew only in jeans, oversized sweaters and T-Shirt. And now, she was wearing dress and she turned into a sexy princess. “Wow, Jana. If only I had some dowry, I would go for you right now!”: I said and she gave me a big kiss. My suit was bought in hurry, it was a little bit bigger and very cheap. I felt like a penguin. So I rather looked at Jana´s cleavage while we were going to Old Town by bus. Kytka joined us and he also looked like a penguin. Finally, we jumped out of the bus and there was Prcalík welcoming us. “Hey philharmonics, where are your instruments?”: laughed he. “In your ass”: we answered unanimously and it started to look like a good party. A men with a strange look on his face came to us. “That is Franta paratrooper – the groom”: we were introduced.

Immediately, Franta was cynosure of all the women. He was tall, muscular and had this rough and rent face, so all the girls went crazy. Jiřinka was sparkling that she was the one who got him and they were married at the ceremonial room. As a married couple they invited us to the pub Na Rozvoji. Me and Kytka did already drink some vodka which was there the whole time and we threw our ties in a trash can. We went to the pub where we sat by one table and then we went for the shots inferno. I felt that this party won´t ended well and my head was empty. My friends told me after that I was dancing on a table, stripped Jana and told waiter to go to hell. I just had a great time. Then I don´t know.

I woke up in a villa not far from the pub and from the house of my aunts. A lot of us were laying there on the ground. I went to the first republic balcony and tried to snap some air. On the chair was the groom crying. “Dude, you didn´t have to marry her”: laughed I. I don´t have the chance to see a paratrooper cry every day. He hummed something and jump off the balcony. “Shiiiiiiit”: I screamed and Jana woke up. “He jumped!”: I screamed to her and we ran to the stone railing. Franta was not there. We were confused. Suddenly something scared me. It was Franta´s shadow and he jumped again. He had training and he was too drunk. So he was just jumping from the balcony for like an hour and until he was calm again and he sat at the chair. His eyes were full of tears. Jana had a tissue in her hand and started the nursing system in her head.

Among the drops of salty water on Franta´s cheeks he was telling us horrible stories from the war he experienced. It was about shooting, violence, suffering, burned legs and arms, endless screaming, fear of bomb planes, about a village in the mountains. He was talking were confusingly and each story was ended with: “I just don´t want to die in rain, no, I just don´t want to, it can´t happen”. We didn´t know what to say. Franta stopped after a while and fell asleep. He slept for a few hours and we talked with Prcalík and his mother about that. She cried. “It seems that Jiřinka pissed her shoes”: said Kytka and we had no idea how right was he. Prcalík took us to the pub By an Oak where people laughed at us in our great suits.
I don´t believe in foresights or bad signs but I sat to the next table and didn´t talk. I was thinking about all of this and had a lot of dead shattered bodies in my head. That was the day I told myself that I would never go to the army and I rather study for the rest of my life, that I would rather said I am ill or I would emigrate to a different country where they don´t have compulsory military services. But I was not really successful and we didn´t have a lot of doctors in our family so after few years I had to go to the civil service. But that is a different story. “Dud, Jiřina would not end well, come on he is crazy”: Jana woke me up from my thoughts and I had to agree. She didn´t end well.

Franta was a men who came from the Hell. Form the real Hell. Every time they let him home and he didn´t serve he got insanely drunk, beat Jiřina, attacked Prcalík and his mother. He was just simply doing some problems. At first we felt sorry for him but not in the end. Prcalík reported him to police a few times but they just gave him to the army and the army didn´t do anything about it. The last time I saw him was like a month before he shoot himself in their army building n Liberec. He was walking around the street, constantly looking around and was trading like a best which was on alert all the time. I said Hi and tried to keep on walking. But he grabbed me by my shoulder and I stopped breathing. I stared into his eyes like I was cursed. His eyes were full of fear, anger, helplessness and he looked like a wounded animal. “Have you ever been in Hell? Dude, have you ever been in Hell?”: I squeezed my hand with an iron vise. I tore myself and ran away like crazy. Nobody chased me.

Jiřinka is happy now. She has a new husband, beautiful son (well he is a man now). She has her second marriage and she is a very cool woman. But every time I see her I feel cold across my spine. The son looks like his father.

The fifty-seventh tale – Volleyball ball from uncle Josef

He always came out of nowhere. He had a big headphone in his ear and he rang our door bell. He always came at bad time. He always came when the situation was not suitable for guests. In autumn 1990 my parents fought again and it was ugly. Me and my brother were scared. I was glad they went to the cottage and I was able to just sit at home with Mozart playing from the LP player. I had a great music mood and a lot of vinyl from my grandpa. There was a noise from neighbours yelling, he was scolded her as a whore, there were some slaps and then a very loud intercourse. The shadows of panels from the opposite building was shining right into my windows. I looked out of the window and there was a neighbour was becoming a beautiful woman slowly. We knew her as a girl who we always pulled by her ponytail. Now she was moving her hips and walked like a cat.

“Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz”: the sound of the bell cut the room and unduly interrupted the melody of the musical genius and my dreamy look. “Who is it?”: shouted I from the window and nothing. Everything repeated several times. The record ended and I didn´t want to turn it over because the heavy string between me and the music was gone. Then I saw downstairs below the building 6 floors down a body of a little stooped uncle Josef. He was deaf, around 70 and it was difficult to deal with him. I went downstairs and took 2 stairs at once because it was faster than the stupid elevator which was constantly broken. And I was by the relative. “You look like an American, that is great how much you youngsters can be, free and the world is yours”: screamed my uncle and it sounded like a started engine of a plane. His headphone was off. One of his friends send it to him once (my uncle transferred him across the boarders) from Canada. So I showed him to go with me upstairs.

I fried some eggs, pulled out some beers and uncle was in a great mood. Everything was confusing for him. He was telling me for like a hundredth time a story about being in concentration camp in Romania (when the World War II started he worked there as a waiter in a fancy restaurant) and he was a half-Jew so he had to dig every day endless pits. He talked about it very colourfully, his Czech was like the language from old books (of course he used a lot of dirty words). We were eating the burned eggs, uncle was almost crying – he was glad to see me.

When I started to play volleyball he came to our cottage and brought the real American ball. I was one of the few people who was patient with this deaf and crazy man. “Well this friend who was also Jew he betrayed me. The shitty Nazis knew about it and sent dogs at us.”: he talked about the story of running from the concentration camp. Suddenly, his eyes were glassy and his mind was far away in the past. “Then they caught us, ordered us to get naked and in the freezing cold they splashed cold water at us. I slowly lost my hearing and the next day I had to go dig again…”: he continued and I cleaned the dishes.

Since I didn´t know what to do I showed him to dress up and go outside. He came to me, caressed my cheek. He had to stand at the sofa to do that and he said: “I really like your T-Shirts, they are beautifully colourful, no grey like the ones in camp, I really support the young generation. Just don´t screw your freedom, you have to fight for it all the time”.  While walking to the panels he talked about his second run from the camp just a few months before the liberation. The long, endless toil through Romania across Russia where people ate barks of trees, baked squirrels but they always welcomed him and gave him something. I loved ordinary Russian people but the bosses they were assholes he said.

We were on Radouč and said Hi to my friends. I introduced him my uncle and talked briefly about his work in the resistance, the second resistance, his experiences from the concentration camp and from Jáchymov. Prcalík bowed on the ground and offered him a beer. Kytka sat next to uncle. He directed his headphones to us (it was in a box which was always in his shirt pocket). Jana was walking on the meadow towards us and my uncle kissed her hand and you could tell that he liked her. He hold her for a long time and looked in her eyes. Then he just said that it would be O and that she would lost her struggle and the person who was doing the harm to her would be gone soon (and yes, her father did leave for a while after that). Someone put Iron Maiden in the recorder and a few friends with bottled beers started to jump and pitch their hair. It looked like uncle enjoyed it. He smiled, was happy and had the smile like Buddha had.

Then suddenly, he stood and started to tap his feet in the rhythm of screaming Iron Maiden. Slowly, with the deliberately of 70 year old man. He was swaying in his knees and everybody watched him. He slightly raised his hands to the waist level and said: “What a beautiful music, I hear/feel the rhythm…this is how we had to carry big heavy iron ropes, they forced us just for fun, in the heat, in the cold, all the time and we were pinched from stooping, but they forced us all the time.”: he was returning to the past while telling the story, back to the uranium mines. “There was one guy, an asshole, he works in Jablonec in the city hall, he was such an ass, he shoot my friend, the one who just couldn´t take it anymore.”: he continued and I saw Jana crying. He stood in front of us tapping his feet, the little man – thin, grey-haired and we felt the great power from him. Like the conscience of our entire history was hovering around him.

“What the hell is the old guy talking about?”: said someone, the asshole who didn´t get what was going on. Prcalík stood up and without any warning gave him a big slap. The guy was not able to do anything. Uncle stopped, he didn´t hear and he asked: “You don´t believe me? Look”: and he took off his shirt. My grandmother´s brother had a lot of awful scars on his back and stomach. Then he described every hit by whip, rope, each burning of cigarette…I jumped up and covered and soothe my uncle who was already curled and sad. “We believe you!!!”: I yelled at him and he finally get to the reality. My friends stood up and each shake his hand and hugged him. Everyone realize that if it was not for my uncle or other people in the same conditions maybe we would not be there. We opened another beer and that night was no other stories about Jáchymov anymore, thank God.

We went to sleep late when the stars were shining above Boleslav. I took uncle who was a little bit drunk (because everyone wanted to drink with him), I supported his body and I wonder what we experienced. I put him in our bedroom and let the door open. But I couldn´t sleep. When I finally managed to fell asleep there was a horrible scream around the apartment. I jumped out of the bed, ran through the hallway and in the bed was my uncle – tangled in blanket, wet from sweat and he was burbling something about not killing him. It happened like five times during the night so I just sat in the chair next to the bed. I took his hand and whispered words which was not even able to hear.

I burned some toasts in the morning and he complimented me for that because this amazing food was not in the camp at all. I accompanied him to the bus stop, bought him a ticket and asked driver to take him off in Jablonec nad Nisou. We were waving at each other for a long time and I promised to do everything I could to help my uncle live at least a little quiet old age.

My uncle was around for more than another 20 years. He was in a good mood until the end, so funny. I visited him as much as I could. In the end he didn´t really apperceived me but I liked to listen to his stories (which could fit in a book). It was interesting how his stories were different from what we were taught in the history classes. I visited him even when a German member of the former Stasi tried to kill him (I actually learned years later when I visited Political prisoners who were a great support to my uncle) and my uncle was in the Hospice with broken bones. Apparently he knew something nasty against him.

He didn´t have anyone. Grandma is older and at that time she already lived on the other side of the state. So for a long time I had a little shrivelled relative on the North in the Jizerské Mountains who probably didn´t even hear me. There was no need. We sat outside the cottage and looked to the distance (my uncle liked mountains, cross country skiing and all of that just like me). I always looked forward to see him he was like my grandfather and he lived through hell in his life. But he was always strong, principled and honest.

Today he is already dead for a long time. I just have a bag full of memories, tales, experiences which would be great to put in a book. When I am old and have time (that is what people say all the time), I would take a pen. I own him this. Just like for the amazing American ball from Canada with which my kids play now by the cottage. I am thinking about putting Iron Maiden in the recorder and opening a beer. The scenery would be perfect.

 The fifty-eighth tale – The Sandokan T-Shirt

“Pilgrimage came! Who is going with me?”: yelled Jana from the distance and we shook our heads contemptuously. “Ihate these comedians and most importantly one of these people who was about four years older was pissing us off.”: said Prcalík about a member of Jirák clan. The boy who lived in the opposite building with his father who worked at the attractions and one of his mothers. He had one women in every city he went. He was taller than us and pissed us off all the time. He took our balls, hockey sticks, he ruined our games. He was just like the little shit since the childhood. That is what Kytka used to say.

“And you call yourself men? Who will shoot a paper flower for me? Should I tell someone else?”: tried Jana with a dreamy look in her eyes. The look is typical for each girl – at least I think so. She had to talk about it for a long time, we just had the scars deep inside of us but in the end we, of course, succumbed to the Jana´s charm. Other girls agreed immediately when they came to the panels. So we had to break piggy banks, asked parents for money – just to find some money. “So see you on Saturday”: we agreed and during the journey from panels to the settlement we were muttering about it and didn´t want to go. “Fuck that”: said Prcalík but Prcalinka had him processed already. Mirka just smiled at Kytka and he was done too. Well and at that time I had my black fairy also.

Her name was Kateřina, of course we called her Káča. We met on a party where Debustrol played as a support band and then some weird guys with beer rock. That was at the time we sat at the bar and I saw her. She had chestnut brown eyes, long black hair which were going under her butt. The gentleness itself, beauty and beast at the same time. And her voice! Finally a girl who doesn´t have a pitched voice (by the way – any of us from our group had a girl who would had a pitched voice….maybe because of the metal!) praised Prcalík because I was the only one who sometimes went out with “non-metal” girls (and they were sometimes yelled with a high pitched voices like old opossums). Káča was a class, big love, a lot of erotic, youth and…you know. And, of course, I fell in love hard.

At first, we, the guys who didn´t really want to go met. We did a long faces but when we saw our quails we were like crazy and blushed. We had a rough talks but we were unbelievable gentlemen. The girls were laughing and had a great denim asses, hair which looked like horse hair and their eyes were so deep that you can be lost in them. Till this day I just don´t get why these girls, so beautiful, liked the metal assholes like we were. I just don´t know. There was a large green place (there is Kaufland today) not far away from our Stadium. Men went to play football there during the weekends and we were laughing at them, they were old fat men. It was so stupid, funny and sometimes they got injured, were falling down and so on.

“I would rather watch the football than the old whores form the range.”: said Prcalík and then we saw a carousel, centrifuge and finally the beer tent. We occupied it immediately and drank the nasty draft beer and switched to the shots slowly. “Shit, fuck, why is it so loud?”: screamed Kytka when the guys were shouting another racetrack ride. We laughed about it but we stopped immediately when we saw Jirák who ended school to travel with his father around pilgrimages. He saw us, showed us his rotten teeth and he wanted to take my glasses off just for fun after those years. I dodged and deployed him one simple headlock. He fell down directly to a plash and I felt great! “You should break his arm”: said Prcalík and I agreed.

And the girls came to us with cotton candy and they were very touchy, like a young snakes. Of course, we were not protesting and we each took our girl and went to the “wonderful rides”. I took Kačenka to autodrome, we were hitting other cars, laughed and then my bottled beer fell among the others. I guess we did too much of a mess and they kicked us out. So we went to the love boats (swings in a shape of boats) where we just kissed instead of swinging. I was shouting at the shooting range and although I was not really able to see I hit roses almost each time. But I was the only one from our group so I had to share the paper roses with the rest of us. The girls broke skewers and put the flowers in their hair. “Hippieeeeeeeeeeeees!”: roared drunk Prcalík and he forced us to go “buy something else”.
So me and Kytka bought plastic swords, waved around with them and we ever declared a small tournament – which was appreciated by drunk locals. Then Prcalík appeared and was a star of the whole evening. He was wearing a white enormous T-Shirt with Sandokan. “Oh dude, what the hell that is great, Sandokaaaaaan!”: we screamed. And immediately Prcalík was a pearl of Labuan. Flower was so drunk that he became the tiger. He was crawling on all four legs among the swings and hunted Prcalík. They both did the famous scene when Malayan tiger (known as Sandokan) unravelled the belly of the real tiger.

We probably did a lot of noise because around us was a lot of villagers who came to the city to “have fun”. Then some stupid uncle called police from the opposite building and we had to explain those two nice officers that we just wanted to do an improvised performance called Sandokan. They talked about it with us and because we laughed during the whole time we went to the pub By an Oak.

The entire event ended with hangover, me waking up on a pile of tangled bodies when my head was by Kytka´s legs and I immediately felt sick. I ran in the hall to look for a toilet. Unfortunately there was Prcalík and Pralinka on a mattress, both naked. Well, me a good friend, I covered their bodies with my last night mix of cotton candy, beer, sausages, beer and a little bit of rum. “You asshole, you vomited on my Sandokan T-Shirt!”: screamed Prcalík with a voice of lion and he didn´t really care that the T-Shirt was not really the biggest problem.

I apologized. My drunk myself was ashamed and I washed the T-Shirt with an enormous face of Malayan tiger. Kačenka, because she loved me, helped me and when it was over we very much wanted to be alone. We said goodbye to the rest of our friends and disappeared in the endless greyness of concrete.


The fifty-ninth tale – My black fairy

You have probably already noticed that there has been an important figure in my tales from my youth. Kateřina. Yes, that was her, my girlfriend, my dream, my incarnation of Goddess. Until I met her on a party in Mnichovo Hradiště I was more like a jack-o´-lantern who, as usual, was looking for a place where to put his ovipositor. I made fun of women and I was only thinking about one thing. This is normal for young guys and I was definitely no exception. Our whole, basically perfect and beautiful, cohabitation was unfortunately discontinued by a crazy ending. But I have no metal power to write about it, yet. Just talking/thinking about Káča was so difficult and it has been a long time since I had this kind of metal effort (even after all those years). But I just went to the cottage in the Jizerské Mountains and walked around the forests and then it just happened and I wrote about all of that.

Our entire group of black souls sat on the train to Mnichovo Hradiště. Prcalík was humming and then he screamed Salyer lyrics. Kytka was reading a book and Jana was hitting on me. Mirka was doing something with her bra because it didn´t fit well. Prcalinka was clinging to her beloved one and told him to shut up. I started to envy all of those couples for not being alone. I always went to see some girls and I every time “got” one but it was really fickle. But most importantly, “they were horrible although had beautiful boobs but they were cows”, this was how Prcalík mentioned this every time I brought a new girl. I would not be that critical but the truth was that each girl felt more like a decoration piece for me rather than an equal partner and member of our group.

“You have to compromise your claims”: said Kytka who was focused in the book till that moment. I had no idea how could he knew what I was thinking about. “Well, yeah. But Kuba wants those boobs, asses and smart at the same time – it is like wanting from Slayer to play country”: muttered Prcalík and the train stopped at the train station. I was sad. Jana, my emotional life guide, somehow knew what I was feeling at that moment and grabbed me around my waist and tried to cheer me up. Not very successfully. I drank one Klášter after another and wanted to get drunk and forget about everything. We went to see Debustrol. There was another band after that, some local heavy village band which we didn´t like but who cares. We were fans and we just wanted to have a good time.

Debustrol almost killed me that night. Neuropatolog was in my head till the morning. I was drunk so I gave my glasses to Jana and became a guy who dance the endless trash dance. I felt like the whole frustration went out of my body, the frustration of being alone, the fury is why I love this music. I don´t want to brag but I was the kind of dancing floor that night. Then the concert ended, they added a few songs, people were screaming and we went to the bar for a beer. The local villagers started to fill the concert hall and we didn´t want to have anything to do with them. We were able to hear the local stars preparing the stage and I went for the first cold beer. With the corner of my eye just by accident (my glasses were still with Jana and she was somewhere at the bathroom) I saw small, skinny baby doll girl who sat in the corner. I stopped, she raised her chestnut brown eyes and I glanced at her from head to toe. She was not even my type. But her eyes, her eyes, people!

I drank one beer and we talked about music. Around us was drunk Kollins from Debustrol. Everyone patted him on his back and he stopped by us and grinned as only he do.  “Dude, you were awesome again, thanks!”: said he and fell on a chair. We were the orthodox fans and we were very proud. Jana gave me my glasses. “Do you want a beer?”: said someone behind me. “sure I do, dude”: answered I without even looking. I had no idea who talked to me. After years I realized that the voice was beautifully full, feminine cuddly yet direct. “So there you go”: she, the baby doll girl with chestnut brown eyes, put one Klášter beer in front of me and I sat with my mouth largely open. I was so surprised. We were looking in each other’s eyes just like actors do in stupid movies. “What about not just looking and also buying a beer for the lady?”: added Jana behind me and kicked my shin. “Ouch, yes, sure, what do you drink?: stammered I and everybody looked at me like I am freaking idiot. Cute, but idiot.

I stood up in daze, went through the crowd and smoke. She went behind me just like we were together since always. “I thought I are here with the booby girl…but it is good that you are not…you know I have been looking at you for ages but you always went home with a different girl and I had to get 3 shots to go to you.”: convey she with her cuteness. “Well, you know…I was just an asshole”: that was the only thing I stammered. I raised my hand and touched her cheek and I had to give her a big kiss. “See, now you have the right girl, believe me, I can tell”: said someone behind me and I knew that Jana was right. I was with Kačenka for the whole night, on the train station and even when we went to Old Town in Boleslav. We talked. About music, us, our group. And then around 5 A.M we went to the park because both of us had parents at home (this part is just for me so I am not going to talk about it with you, sorry) and it was great. When we were saying goodbye I was telling her that she was my black fairy that I loved her and I would always love her. And I was deadly serious because I knew that this would happen.

At home my father woke up to go to work. I smelled the alcohol from his breath so we just said hi and we each went our own way. I “slept” with my window open and watched the stars, I was so in love. I fell asleep for a few minutes but in the morning we went to our cottage for forced labour. I ran away in the afternoon and went hitchhiking to see Kačenka again. I picked her up in her house, brought her three cassettes of bands she wanted (Saxon of course and others) and we, the denim couple, went hand in hand to the panels. I was so proud. Káča was holding a bottle of Slovácké slunce (awful but cheap wine) as a gift to the group for letting her in. And when we were going to the Radouč, we almost flied.

“This is Káča, my black fairy”: introduced I my girl. I was proud and had a glassy look in my eyes. “Welcome, baby doll!”: welcomed her Kytka and everybody hugged her. Then they tested her in music (no one was able to be in our group until they did the music test and if they were not able to recognize Metallica). Kačenka did well and with honour and she always added some new information. I was shining and Jana was smiling. Girls took my black fairy to them and guys were praised her. During the sunset above Michalovická putna was full of our girls´ amazing voices. “What a stupid assholes are we – happy, ugly, metal but we have the most beautiful girls on the world, right?”: claimed Prcalík and raised the bottle happily. We all knew he was right. We all were in love!

That was the last time I saw a group of girls working so nicely like these were, just like sisters. They supported each other, helped each other, care about each other but about us also. They were connected in one blue and black group. We had so much fun, drank a lot and we always walked in the evening to Kačenka´s doors.

There was no need for me to sleep, eat or do anything. I just needed to be with her. After years of searching, there was the security, full-fledge relationship with everything I needed. I was happy like no other. My black fairy was one of the people who influenced my whole life. For me and my group started a new era. This little, skinny lady with chestnut eyes and Sodom patch on her back and bottom who never lost my attention was always by my side just like a Greek goddess. And she was Goddess. She came from the smoky ugly pub in Mnichovo Hradiště and filled my soul with light.

The sixtieth tale – The Vader patch

I was so excited! We met with Kačenka on the panels to go for a walk and utter the matting call till the end of the world and in the end we would go to a new pub which was open next to her house in Old Town in Boleslav. When I saw my little black fairy walking on red-hot asphalt my heart stopped. Long brown hair which went below her bottom, walk of a cat which was sure about her beauty and she had an ass which every guy wanted to hold. “Hi, you look like you just saw a ghost!”: smiled she at me and gave me a big kiss and a hug. Prcalík sat behind me, laughed and added: “Well, don´t forget to put your tongues together and necks and you would look like swans.” We didn´t care about him and hugged even more.

We were very impatient after a few sentences, we wanted to be alone. I took Kačka by her hand and there was a nice shade in the oak grove. We were looking on the river down there, were body on body, my girlfriend´s denim jacket was nicely unbuttoned. We were there for the whole afternoon. Then we came back to the panels and then to the city. I met my mom who wanted me to do something at home. So Kačenka went ahead and I thought to myself how lucky I am because I had no time to change into my trash clothes. My mom didn´t care about my corduroys and an old shirt. Thank god. I fixed the dripping tap, had a small snack and went down to the basement. There, behind a shelf, was hidden my denim vest. On the back it had a big Sodom patch. I bought it half price from my summer job in Poland. I put the vest and ragged jeans on and my black “converse” which I bought in Bratislava (my size 47 was nowhere to be found).

I went out by the back door because my mom sometimes waved me from the window. I ran to the Old Town like an Indian. One hundred meters of walking, one hundred of running. I dashed the pub door and I was panting. A scenery opened in front of me and I almost lost my breath. On a bar stool was Kačenka and she was trying to save herself from a hundred kilos enormous bold guy. “Come on, don´t pretend to be a lady, little whore!”: drooled he in her ear and I had black colour in front of my eyes. My body, 60kilos and 185 centimetres, stretched like a string and shouted: “You fucker!”. I jumped on this monster like a lion. My chances, even though I had a good karate belt, were relatively small. After a few punches and my apparent victory the forces turned over and he was hitting me for five minutes with his fists. He pulled out clots of my hair and then I heard the most horrible sound ever. My Sodom patch was ripped and I saw it falling on the ground in two pieces.

After a moment of darkness and one glass of water in my face from the bartender, I woke up. Kačenka lifted me up. “Come on, he went to the bathroom but he said he would finish you when he come back”: she was whispering in my ear and I wanly stood up. We slowly went out, she was holding me and I was getting swell. We disappeared in the streets but nobody chased us. I was like a wounded animal, my face hurt, stomach and my pride was nowhere to be found.  “You are my hero, do you know that?”: whispered my denim fairy into my ear and I was slowly getting better. We went to the pub By an Oak, sat in the corner and I drank to make the pain disappear but my black eye started to look like a blue and green orange. “Ah, somebody was fighting…so, I guess you didn´t win?”: someone behind me added this with a sense of schadenfreude and I saw Prcalík with the whole group.

“Well, I didn´t win but the most horrible is that the skinhead asshole destroyed my Sodom patch”: I answered sadly and I wanted to cry. Kačka hugged me and stroke my thigh, kissed my cheek (and I was like it was no big deal) and after she told everybody what happened I felt like Winnetou who just had saved the whole village of beautiful women. In the evening it was much harder to change the clothes in the basement because everything hurt and I was thinking about how I would explain this to my parents. In the end I chose to say the truth and my mom just nodded her head and gave me some ice. I had a lot of troubles to fell asleep, my stomach hurt but it was better the next day. Well, except the eye and the patch.

We met at the panels after lunch after I finished the work on my grandmother´s field. I took away like 1580 hand barrows of clay. We sat at the top together, the Sun was burning us and in front of me was spread denim jacket. The damages were huge. However, Jana and Kačenka were great seamstress with a gift from the God and they fixed everything and it looked even better than before. “Dude, that is so cool, it looks like you were attacked by a bear and survive!” This is the real trash jacket!”: praised Prcalík and Kytka. I nodded my head with agreement. “Well, it just needs a patch on the back”: said I sadly. That night we arranged a funeral for Sodom. Lightened a fire, played the cassette Agent Orange all over the whole night and talked about revenge. I threw the patch in the fire around the midnight and went home with Kačenka. Her parents were on their cottage so we were really happy till the morning.

I was working part-time jobs to save money for a new patch for whole 4 months. I even drank less beer because I felt like naked without patch on my back. Kačenka had a big Saxon sign on her back and next to her I almost felt embarrassed. We were flirting during the evenings, went with my denim beauty to the cottage and the autumn was already there. It was November, the weather was horrible and it was my birthday. We were drinking By an Oak and I bought everyone a shot of Fernet (Czech alcoholic drink). I felt exalted with the alcoholic mood. “So my nice hero…”: started my birthday toast Kačenka. Like a minute ago she disappeared to bring my surprise. “because you are my everything and you saved my honour and because I love you like nobody in the world, we the whole group bought you a new patch, a sail on your back!”: continued she and I unwrapped a beautiful Morbid Reich by Vader patch.

I was stuttering for a while and was moved like never. Then I hugged everyone. I was the happiest guy ever and I ordered another round on me. My look was glassy, the girls were the most beautiful and the beer was everywhere. I was getting closer to death metal and the group knew about it so they crowned me that night with this patch which was on my back for a long time after that. The patch was from Germany. Prcalík´s father somehow got it from someone. My friends spent a lot of money on it (at that time 800 CZK was a lot of money). The next day was the patch on my back and I finally didn´t felt like being naked when we walked with Kačenka around Radouč. I become the death metal guy – alias Reaper.

The sixty-first tale – When metal fan dance

We resisted for such a long time. We even had fights with our parents but in the end we all had to go. The dancing classes were there (translator´s note: The dancing classes are typical in the Czech Republic. When you are 15 years old you go to dancing classes for half a year and in the end there are ball events where you show your skills). We, the ones who hated suits and were always dressed in ragged clothes and laughed at anything which was mimsy, were dressed in suits, parents bought us belts, iron our tapes on pants and tied our ties so our Adam´s apples were so big. “Suffer, suffer, suffer”: screamed Prcalík when me and Kytka picked him up. We had to meet earlier with the guys to drink a little bit of alcohol to feel a little bit better. We went to the pub By an Oak and were the target for every long haired dude there. Although it was around 2 o´clock in the afternoon, but Sabath was in a good mood already. “Undertakers, haha, undertakers”: screamed he at the whole pub and we had to tell in to go fuck himself, few times.

We had one beer, two and three. But the time was running out and we had to separate. We went to the Culture House but before we get to pick up our quails. I even had to pick up Jana. What a sad walk for me. Well, until I saw Kačenka in her dress. I don´t know why but when she walked down the stair she looked like an actress from the First Republic movies. Dark hair piled up with a few hair left down around her face. I got lost in her smile. That was how it was. The girls looked great and we looked funny. Jana had a corset which killed every guy and I was walking with those trash metal fairies down the city. I was the centre of attention, no doubt about that. Well, having the white gloves and pony tail probably for the second time in my life. “You look like a noble guy”: snuggled Kačenka to me and Jana added that I looked more like a highwayman.

“It would be much better to go fuck than doing assholes from ourselves”: said someone behind us. It was Prcalinka cursing. “Don´t worry, we will”: added her beloved one and we were laughing. I looked at Kačenka and I saw a sparkle in her eye. We went inside, Mirka was the only one who put her stuff in the changing room. We didn´t have anything, father just gave me some money to buy a lemonade to my girl. We ordered a beer, we knew the usher lady and the entire staff. The old Mr. Hess came to the dance floor. He was refined just like his wife who looked really good considering her age. I thought to myself that this would not be that bad. But my hopes were gone in a few minutes because instead of my beloved girl they paired me with a lady called Jarmila. She was from the next village and was studying to become a butcher. I saw that Prcalík wanted to say something but when I looked at him, he stopped.

Jarmila talked all the time and she was squeezing me like we were getting married. She was huge and stupidly naïve and sweet. God, shit, why I always get those huge girls, I thought to myself, but I continued dancing. The young Mr. Hess always came to talk to me, he was the dancer in dancing group UNO (translator´s note: UNO was a very famous dancing group in the Czech Republic). He was an ass, always pushed us to do something – he probably didn´t like me because I was always complaining. Finally, the break. I ran from Jarmile to go to the bathroom. “Dude, she wants to have a baby with you!”: screamed laughing Prcalík above the urinal. I went to see Kačenka. We hide under the stairs and kissed. But they rang the bell and we had to go back. In the doors was Jarmila and she took by elbow like she wanted to pulled out from my body. “These are my parents”: yelled she loudly and my friends laughed like crazy. I introduced myself and they told me how much cows, fields and pigs they had and I was really getting nervous.

Jarmilka leaded me around the dancing floor and laughed. Or smiled. We danced a few dances, first steps when we had to be body on body. I didn´t know where look, her enormous breasts were almost on my shoulders. I apologized and run out. But I was caught and punched in my stomach. I whined. So-called friendly nudge. I had troubles not to vomit. I had to dance again (they said that we had to go to the final evening together or they would kick my ass, I was not supposed to be a coward, right?, well). I was counting every minute till the end of the lesson. Everything strangled me everywhere. The second break. I went right to the bar and Kytka´s grandmother secretly gave me a shot of rum. I kissed Kačnka under the stairs again and guys laughed at me. Jana told me that her dancer was dribbling, had acne and was from a village. “I had a lake between my boobs from him”: he admired her boobs so much.

I get a saving idea. I carefully explained to Jarmila that I had a girlfriend and after she hit my back, the punch was so huge that it would kill an ox, I told her I know a guy who looked at her all the time. Then we switched and the dancing classes were suddenly happier. I danced with Jana and villagers danced together. So the only one who didn´t have much luck was my Kačenka. She get a stupid fan of Michal David (translator´s note: Michal David is a pop singer in the Czech Republic). He was little, thin boy who didn´t talk about anything but Michal David´s songs (asshole). And of course, he looked at her like she was a saint, who wouldn´t. I was jealous. I carefully turned on them while dancing a polka (which looked more like a dancing in metal concert) and I lean to them and said something about if he would not be nice to her I would tear his suit and ass. The boy got scared and looked at me with a fear in his eyes till the end of our suffering. It was good, because that evening Kačenka was the most beautiful one.

She was dancing like a real fairy, her skinny legs moved easily, she had rhythm in her body and I know something about this. When she spin her dress around he dress raised and slightly shower her thighs. I wanted to dance with her so badly. The girl with Adina Mandlová look with a little bit of cheeky smile of Brigitte Bardot. Her Slavic ass…I was fading in dreams…the subtlety of the moment will be in my memory forever. She was a girl but in her dress she looked like a woman and it was beautiful because she was sensual and looked airy. I wanted to be dissolved in her…

“Dude, this is bullshit”: evaluated this dancing lessons Prcalík and he left with Prcalinka to her home. And he said he would do what they agreed on doing at the beginning. Kytka and me didn´t want to go anywhere. I was full of experiences and fear of Jarmila. We untied our ties, unbuttoned our shirts and went to the disco event. We sat by a table and it was horrible because there was the fan of Michal David and he danced like crazy on the dancing floor. And he was so bold to come to Kačenka to ask her to dance with him. But I looked at him and I looked like a potential murdered.  Finally they played something little more rock and we went to dance. We showed some of our tricks, creations and figures which we had learned on trash concerts and they kicked us out. “This is a decent place!”: yelled Mr bodyguard and we were laughing like we were going to die.

 In front of the building was a car which was suspiciously moving. “They are fucking”: assessed Jana the situation and we peaked through the window. The couple looked at us and I saw Jarmilka and she didn´t really looked happy. On the top of her was the sweaty villager – the dancer, the dribbler and Mr Zit. I turned to see Jarmilka´s parents smoking. “Dude, their parents lent them their car so they could fuck, it is like in a bawdyhouse, their own daughter, they really want her to get married”: laughed Kytka and we went to the city. We bought few bottled beers in the non-stop shop and talked about how that was the last time we went to the dancing classes. Of course, that was not true, we all did it till the end – after all we were quite docile but overgrown children.

We said goodbye and I heard Kytka screaming Debustrol lyrics in the distance. “Tak jsem Antikrist, tak jsem Antikrist…a seru na Vás Pane…aaaaaa!”: these words floated around the quiet town. I grabbed my girls around their waists, they already took of their shoes and walked barefoot, and we went to guard Jana back home. “Bye love birds”: said sadly to the quiet atmosphere my friend and I heard in her voice that she didn´t felt well to be alone without any boyfriend. I walked with Kačenka and I stood down the building to see when she turned the lights in her room. I was so in love that I even climbed the lightning rod to the third floor to get a kiss. When I went home I rapped my jacket. Everyone were asleep and someone in the settlement watched a loud porn. I walked through the grey panel settlement and avoided drunk people. I was drunk myself and suddenly I felt weird.

Under one lamp, not far from a broken bench and a store called Balt, I started to dance. I repeated all those steps which I had learned that day but with the difference that I imagined Kačenka in my arms. I was a metal fan who was showing his shamanic dance, there was a polka in it, waltz and cha-cha. My hair was already loose, my shiny shoes were on the grass among cigarette butts. I felt like I was flying and I was singing Slayer lyrics. What a weird combination but I didn´t noticed it. I danced in my dreams, alcohol and imaginations.

“Well, that is nice but it sucks to do it alone, right?”: laughed someone behind me. It was Kytka who took his lady home also. “Well”: exclaimed I slightly guilty and we sat on the concrete wall in front of the building. Two metal fans in suits who were probably the longest watchful citizens that night. We went to sleep in the morning when we stopped talking about our girls.

The sixty-second tale – Bold head, bare disaster

In Boleslav were a few groups or my friends thrashers in the 90s. But there were also people who likes grunge, Depeche Mode, punk but also skinheads. We didn´t really care about them, we made fun of them. Until I saw Prcalík, when I walked my dog in the part behind my building, flying in the air. There was Prcalinka jumping around and screaming with fear. Around 10 skinheads in bomber jackets and army shoes attacked my friends so much I had never seen it before. When I fought with someone, we slapped each other, pushed the other one or punched the person with my fist. But when the looser was on the ground, we stopped and he acknowledged that he lost and we just went home. Sometimes we shook hands and were friends.

Unfortunately, in the 90s the skinheads group was full of the stupidest ones from our city, full of drunk guys, rapists. Some of them were older than we were and a few of them was in a prison before. Their boss, who was really cruel, was the biggest asshole – Měsíček (Moon). People called him that because of one picture in newspapers where some photographer took a picture of him from side and his bald head looked like a waning moon.

“You punk motherfuckers, exterminate you, you assholes, you should be gasify you scums!”: screamed stocky idiot on my friend and my blood started to circulate faster in my veins. I had a new fresh karate belt but I should have realized that the reality of the streets is different. We fought like lions but suddenly our efforts changed into a scary butchery. Thank god I was also a member of the kennel club and one of my friends with huge dogs walked around. He heard the screaming, the crackling of jacket, tearing of our hair and Prcalinka´s scream. (It was so horrible – we always knew that women cannot be bitten but these assholes kicked her like she was a bag of potatoes) The dog owner scattered the fight the shouted a few horrible words on him and words of revenge and his two dogs were straining on their leashes for a long time after that. Both dogs had mouths full of torn of bomber jackets.

We thanked him and like war veterans we walked around the panels. My heroic dog was licking my bloody wounds and Prcalík and Prcalinka were saying a lot of words which cannot be published. My ribs were kicked and bruised, my eye was swollen again. The worst was Prcalík who looked like he just jumped into a wood chipper. “Those fucking assholes were kicking me when I was on the ground, some of them even kicked my head with his hobnailed shoes.”: wobbly Prcalík and a few meter behind the panels he started to fall down. We got really scared.

It ended with the worst scenario. We, the boys, carred Prcalík who was muttering about not being a punk guy and that his jeans were red because the guitar player of Saxon had the same ones. We understood, from Prcalík´s words and Prcalinka´s explanations that they went outside to go for a walk, they were hugging and suddenly there was the group of skinheads in front of them. One of them said something about seeing two pigs in front of him. Prcalík, the talker, answered something about putting their heads in their asses because they looked in the light of the lamps like big dick heads. Of course those skinheads didn´t like that at all so they went for him. They always attacked people in group, when they were alone they were scared and going in canals. In the group, mostly drunk, they had a lot of strength. And they use it a lot to beat the weakers.

 Among the buildings shined the light of an ambulance. I was the least ruffled so I talked to the doctor by the stretcher about what happened. Then, like in a dream, I saw our transport to the hospital. On the hallway was Jana and Kačenka sitting. Kytka was also there – I would always remember his skinny body with sad raven look. They just straightened my nose and put some patches on me. I had to go outside to see my dog who was outside the hospital. Prcalík went right to the operating room, his skull was slashed. Prcalinka was treated on the bed and had a lot of tests about internal injuries. There was an enormous fear and sadness in our group.

We went to the hospital every day. I “stole” my father´s radio batteries for Walkman for my friends. I lent them a few precious cassettes (some of them were theirs forever). They both laid in the hospital for two weeks. Each on a different floor and they were always meeting us in long robes in front of the hospital in the smoking corner. Kytka brought them beer from the non-stop store. When they led our heroes go we went to celebrate it. But that was not over about our skinheads problem.

“We should connect with someone, otherwise they will beat us all the time”: screamed Prcalík in the pub across the glasses clicking. “That´s true, they are assholes!”: yelled someone behind us. It was Sabath, the old long-hair dude. He sat with us and we started the endless debate about what to do with those skinheads. Everyone had a problem with them. But Depeshe Mode fans were too scared, grungle fans didn´t car and we had to get in contact with punk fans. Well, they listened the same music as we did and a lot of us liked punk. I even remember someone complaining to the police but his pleases about protection of streets were not answered. So we had to take the justice into our own hands.

The main organizer of this revenge was Sabath. He said that he knew what to do because he was going to Plastic People of Universe concerts during the communism and he often fought with the Public Safety (translator´s note: Public Safety – Veřejná bezpečnost: was a form of police in the communistic Czechoslovakia). However, skinheads were not the police. They were just a pure primitive evil which attacked us on streets, when we went to the pub in the evening, or when we sat on the panels and listen to music. They even stole a few things from the garage, took down our posters of our idols. There was almost no one who met them and didn´t get harmed. They stalked the girls, harassed them – it sometimes looked like a state of emergency. We ran a lot, we were afraid of them and didn´t wanted to be kicked. It was crazy and hopeless.

Those greasy heads always met down at the settlement not far away from an abandoned Škoda hall. They were listening to some shitty German fascist songs out loud. We went in a group, with batons and sticks in our hands. The girls stayed “at home” on the panels (Kačenka was crying the whole time because she thought I was going to die because I was the idiot who always needed to protect the others). But we had resistance in us and we were like a group hungry for a revenge. Trashers, punks and old long-hair dudes who were picked up from their beers after like thousands years. In the front, like an old Viking, was Sabath with a baton which he stole from some Public Safety member a long time ago (that might be a legend, but we believed that).

“You bald assholes, leave us alone, go to hell…”: screamed all of us. We were there. In front of us were like 50 stupid faces. I jumped on the first one and hit him with my wooden stick on his shoulder. I climbed the table and finally broke their recorder – Prcalík took Měsíček and he ran away. It was a winning and decisive battle. We scattered them like a flock of pigeons. And that was it. Really. After that, no one “bold” did anything to us. When I looked at it now, we were crazy and didn´t have any judgment or instinct of self-preservation. But we did good.

Our girls cheered us like Crusaders who just came from the Holy Land. I was a centre of attention during the whole night. But Prcalík sometimes complained about heaving a headache. But that was gone after a few beers and we went home with our girls to the endless greyness of panel buildings. But this time the streets looked happier. Because there were no skinheads around, no bare disaster.

The sixty-third tale – Vitacit

We sat on the panels, nodded our legs in our torn jeans and we had red mouths from Vitaict. Prcalík brought a few bags of this instant drink and we were slightly addicted to this. Till this day I don´t understand how I was able to eat two bags of this and drank three beers on it without vomiting. We had duck gizzards.

Heavy summer air and there was some tones of a Czech band which was no familiar with me. I had a good memory for sounds, melodies and voices but with this band, I was out. “What is this heavy music?”: asked I just to create a discussion. “Vitacit”: answered Jan and I tried to convince her that it was not possible and was sure she made fun of me. I was so sure that there was no band called like this red, orange or yellow sweet powder. She explained me that it was true and my laugh was unstoppable. “You haven´t seen the movie Horká kaše?”: yelled Kytka who sat with Mirka on the other side of the panels. They were kissing and looked really in love (well, just like the rest of us). “I haven´t”: confessed I and they laughed at me.

Since I was not the only one, we went to Kytka´s house where his beautiful mom prepared some snacks and we took some beers. We laughed like crazy to the movie. “What a bullshit”: assessed the movie quality Prcalík. Till the night we made fun of the quotes which were made by the metal fans in the movie. I remember the quote in the house, down by the mail boxes when one protagonist kicked the mailbox and said the memorable sentence: “It should not live here”. I don´t know how was your youth but I grew up on a similar settlement and I think that this great movie is a total bullshit. Well, except those songs which I remember till today.

Kytka had an old gramophone after his parents and because he liked heavy metal he brought (he bought it on July in Supraphone store) a vinyl with light cover and a sign: “Vzhůru přes Oceán” (Let´s go across the ocean). We were though guys and liked speed in music and harness. So at the beginning we made fun of this music and the band. However after a while we like it. Finally, we had something to scream on except Debustrol, because it was in Czech. Especially the song Rebel which went like this:

“A hit by a whip - beadle smiles
 It is lost – who is alive
A hit by a whip – a strange era raises us”

We quoted this a lot, especially when we went from school, sometimes we even chanted it. Miloš “Dodo” Doležal was a great person for us and we wanted to see him and Vitacit live. Whenever we talked about the band we pretend to lick the vitacit of our palms and we suddenly knew what we talked about. Well, there was nothing more to say, we needed to go to Prague to see our idols on their concert.

I have to admit that I don´t really remember the trip to the capital city or the local metal fans. It was because Sabath brought a bottle of vodka from Moravia. My young body was not ready for that much alcohol so I know this whole story form stories. It is said that I even jumped off the stage (this information is very credible just as the information that Elvis is still alive). I only a few memories and one of them is while the song Rebel when the whole group screamed the lyrics with the band. And the rest of it is lost for me.

Then there was a very difficult morning, dead voice, Kačentka next to me. I guessed to be in her house according to the chandelier. I looked around and all of us were there. Me, as usual was the first one awake, my head was like a balloon and Prcalík was just waking up. “(v)Vitacit anyone?”: said he with the alcoholic fumes from his mouth and he took out the bag of the powder. My stomach turned and I had to go to the toiled for a few minutes. “The youngsters today, they can´t handle anything”: said Kytka behind me who tasted Vitacit and vomited in the bathtub. Well, I guessed the concert was good.

The sixty-fourth tale – The humiliation in the garage

“You look like fish´s vagina!”: screamed Prcalík over the freshly moaned lawn. And the neighbours were shaking their head about how awful the youth were. “I had night shift at Škoda factory, we were pulling heavy iron plates and put them on wagons. Then we hauled them to a scrap”: apologized I for my tired look. “So heavy metal”: commented friend my tired body and we went through our panel settlement like we owned it. Someone whistled, out of the grey door run Kytka. The only thing missing were our girls. We bought bottled beers and went right to the garage.

Jana on the one side and on the other side my love – the most sexy, sweetest, tender Kačenka. “You are so ugly among those beautiful boobies”: laughed Prcalík about me and I tried to say something. Instead of me spoke Kačenka who agreed on my awful look. But she commented about how cute I was. “What a cute cool dude”: added Kytka and I was glad we were in the garage. “Dude, shit”: cursed Prcalík. The garage door were torn from the hinges and were flickering in the wind. We ran inside and screamed: “Someone robbed us, assholes!”

I sat on the fallen couch and raised crumpled and tangled cassette tapes. I was turning all those shattered LPs in my hands. I wanted to cry. So much money, so much effort. Kačenka started to cry when she found out that her denim jacket was stolen. I tried to comfort her but I started to feel the anger in my body. “If I get those bitches I will kill them”: spitted Prcalík and stabbed a knife on the doors. It was small, like for children and it was called rybička. We needed to calm down. We locked the door with a big heavy chain and 2 locks. We ran to the pub By an Oak and told Sabath what happened. He only nodded his head and said to wait a little bit.

We counted the losses and it was catastrophic. We didn´t care about the things in the garage, everything was old. But the cassettes, vinyl, magazines cut-outs, scrapbooks, instruments, apparatus, the time we put in the garage and a lot of renunciation. We felt humiliated as every robbed person and we just sadly sipped our beers and were arm in arm with our girls.

“It was Cheynne”: yelled Sabath behind the doors. He talked with members of Boleslav´s gallery. “Dude that is lost”: screamed Prcalík again and we were even more desperate. I was silent but everything was boiling inside of me. Suddenly, I don´t know why, I stood up and went to the dark in the Old Town. There was Gypsies/Cheyenne (how we called them) territory behind one dilapidated wall. I was slowly walking to the imaginary line which separated the two worlds and at one building, there was a person. I had only a small soul in myself, however I asked him to give our stuff back. A razor sparkled in front of me and I felt scratch on my stomach.

“Let himmmmm”: screamed someone next to me. It was Kačenka who had to go to “her crazy boyfriend who had to save everyone” so he didn´t do anything stupid. Unfortunately there were even more guys coming from the other houses and they were wearing ugly leather jacket. So I took my girl´s hand and we ran away. I was not a hero anymore and was actually scared. Finally, they left us alone. We had to go to my black fairy´s home.

“I should kill….” Tried to say she but I interrupted her with a huge kiss. The gash from the razor was not that horrible and there was not even a scar after that. But my Vader T-Shirt which was my current sign of being a part of death metal gourp was destroyed. I looked sadly into the wall. I was so sorry about all of our stolen things. How much work we did, how many times we went to the markets to get those things, how many hours of working in part-time jobs. “At least we are together”: whispered I to Kačenka´s ear and she wanted the nice things from me and I will definitely not talk about those with you.

I don´t even know how did I fell asleep but when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night my stomach was killing me. I jumped. Kačenka sat in the chair like a ghost and cried. “The worst thing is no that they robbed us but the fact that they humiliated us in our kingdom, our garage”: sobbed she. I took her head in my palms and we were rejoiced each other until the morning.

The sixty-fifth tale – The toilet paper and bread

It was summer and we stood down on the train station in Mladá Boleslav. I had a huge backpack because I was a gentleman and carried Kačenka and Jana´s things. Kytka did the same thing so we were waiting for Prcalík. Finally, we saw two small people in the distance, the girl carried a huge backpack. “Finally, where have you been?”: yelled we and Prcalík  calmly answered: “We had an argument, she wanted to take a lot of staff but I said that I needed only toilet paper and bread.”: laughed he and Prcalinka looked like a African American indigenous woman who had to carried everything. “He didn´t want to bring anything so I at least made him to bring the bread and toilet paper”: said the petite beauty and moved her groundsheet, sleeping bag and backpack on her back. We were laughing so hard and after a few cigarettes the train came.

We went to Malá Skála to the camp. This was my idea because I thought that we were on the panels all the time or spend time in pubs or at concerts. I handed bottled beer to each person in the train and the bottles were jingling. We were drinking and burping. The girls were mad at us for doing it and we were belching even more. Poking our heads out the windows, at that time it was not forbidden, and we were waving in the wind. Screaming our favourite songs. Kačenka, the conscientious soul like me, unpacked probably two tons of schnitzels which we did ate in like 3 stops of the train. We sat on the leatherette seats, tangled with our girls like snakes and I slowly fell asleep. I dreamed about jumping of a stage. There were only naked girls with big boobs. So I fell down on a soft bodies and was ecstatic.

“Don´t dribble, dear Reaper (this was my nickname for a while)!”: woke me up Kačenka. I stretched and wiped my mouth on my denim sleeve. We were in Turnov on the train station. We went to a pub were they had dirty table cloths, ceramic coaster and around fifty tramps. Green backpacks, beards, hats with fox´s tails. “Dude, what the hell is this?”: asked me Prcalík and said something about gay cowboy is a dead cowboy for him. I kicked him under the table because I didn´t want to have any problems since the beginning. But my friend liked to talk, and he talked a lot. At least these tramps always just buzzed something about it and were silent. I bet they just wanted to be in the forest already, away from people.

We were enjoying ourselves and we reached the Malá Skála by train and then we walked. It was a short walk and we basically went with the crowd. Not far from a weir was a camp, in a small cove. We paid and built our tents. Prcalík with Prcalinka, swearing Kytka who was never really skilled, with Mirka. Well and me with Kačenka and Jana. “Cooool, do you fuck both of them?”: yelled some mouldy-looking tramp on me and I had no idea what to say. “Sure and we are even looking for another girl to have here, can we borrow your otter?”: shouted Kačenka and she and Jana came to me and both kissed my ears, I got a goose bumps. The tramp was flabbergasted and his lady sighed loudly. I rather regulated the tent´s construction. Finally, we were done and went for beer.

We were so drunk on the first day. I fell asleep tangled between the girls and I had no idea what was happening around me. In the morning – headache, a bad taste in the mouth and hangover like crazy. “Ugh, I am so sick”: said Jana and tried to take me with her to the Jizera River for swimming. I woke me Kačenka because I didn´t want her to get jealous and we all went to the river. We took off our denim clothes and we went to the water naked like Adam and two Eves. After a while I was done. I sat on a stone and put my pants on. The girls were still on the water. Jana and her big boobs, skinny Kačenka. They looked nice together. I was imagining a lot of interesting thing like all the dudes do. “What a beautiful view, right?”: said Kytka right in to my ear. “Just don´t screw this up”: continued he.

I knew that. What I had with Jana was almost a relationship. But I was so glad that I had Kačenka and that they had a good friendship with each other. I rather called everyone for can meat which I prepared and called it a main course. I felt like a cook when I gave each person a burnt piece of meat. With also had bread and mustard. Then we left to the Malá Skála for a long trip through the forest and we even took a few pictures. We went back to the pub and swam again. This time even Mirka went to the water and we guys were looking at our girls like they were saints. They were so beautiful, dedicated and till this day I have no idea how they managed to stay with us – the poor, ugly and insolent guys. Their breasts were jumping just above the water and I didn´t want this to end. “What a beautiful scenery, how beautiful boobs, I am so horny”: yelled Prcalík and it added a perfection to this whole picture.

“Dude, he is here again!”: punched me Prcalík. “Yeah, I noticed”: confirmed Prcalík. Behind the bushes was a man, around 50, bold, fat and he was holding something. “A creep, he was watching me when I went to the bathroom and he looked weird”: added Jana. I think the anger was inside of me, the constant pursuit for justice and combatting the badness. So I got up and threw like a fifty grams of mud. He screamed, cursed and we heard footsteps as he left. “You interrupted his masturbation, he must be really pissed”: said Prcalinka and I went to my tent to get a beer. When I was walking I met a family – beautiful mother, two girls and HIM. Mr. Creep. I didn´t say anything but when they passed me we looked at each other. His face was ugly and filthy.

The evening was great because the tramps invited us to get some beers with them by the bone-fire, to get some meet and talk. They grabbed a guitar, we suffered because folk and country was a pure evil for us, and after a while they gave it to Kytka who created some old rock melodies. So we were singing all around and felt really happy. Jana, who was slightly drunk, sent me and Kačenka to the tent and said that she will came later, as usually. So we had some time to be together. I gave her another bottled beer. I grabbed Kačka under her elbow, put her in my arms and took her to the tent. We never want these tent moments to end. After that, sweaty and in love, we went to the river. In the distance was Kytka singing the old Sabbath and Jana was yelling on an old tramp. We heard it but just as a distance backdrop but we were just focusing on each other.

“We should go back to the bone-fire, they might be looking for us”: said Kačenka to my ear and I didn´t want to. I wished to have these moments in cans and could take them out every time I feel bad. But we went to see the guys. We met Prcalík. He had a bread in one hand and vodka in the other. Under his arm was toilet paper. “I told you, I don´t need anything else!”: said he drunk as hell and went away. In the distance we heard him singing: “I am going to shit, I am goiiiiiiing to shit, I am sooooo going to shit”. Everything felt like it supposed to. I sat by the bone-fire and we were drinking like maniacs. What a beautiful evening, but I had a feeling that something was missing. “Dude, where is Jana?”: Mirka kicked my foot, she was always the only sober one for a while. Everyone thought I was taking care of her (Jana), even Jana´s mother told me that she counted on me. I probably looked like the responsible one.

“Maybe she founded a tramp for her and now they are humping”: laughed Prcalík. However, I knew that that was not possible because Jana would have told me. We had some signs and automatic system how to inform each other. “Shit”: something clicked in my head (we used to be – maybe even today- somehow telepathically connected with Jana – I don´t know how to explain it). I ran to our tent. I was on time. The fat creep was trying to get inside and plodded on Jana. He already scratched her face and tore her T-Shirt. I was so angry. I grabbed the fat guy by his few hair and jerked back. I screamed. Kytka and Prcalík came and we were fighting this asshole. I resisted but he succumbed to our superiority. Then he ran away.

I comforted Jana and wondered why she had that bad luck for guys. The girls gave her tissues, treated her wounds and I slept that night by the tent doors. I was like a guard dog, I even felt like showing my teeth. Sometimes I heard crying and whispering. Jana was a tough girl and she had seen a lot in her life. The next morning she acted like nothing happened but we knew that she needed a normal good guy who would protect her. We had vodka for breakfast and the rest of Prcalík´s bread. We all knew that when the creep was in the camp we would have no rest.

Then, Kytka stood up (he said he would be the one who would come because he was the biggest diplomat from all of us – Prcalík was an asshole and I was like Winnetou) and went to the creep´s tent. The whole family was sitting there with a TV, toaster and greasy mouths. We just saw the hand gestures, the man stood up and stretched out his hand towards Kytka. I was already angry again. And then it was silent. Within an hour the whole creep´s family was gone. Kytka talked with his wife behind the tent so the children didn´t hear anything – he was a true diplomat. 
The rest of our metal tramp vacation was about swimming, walking, boundless drinking and singing in the nights with our friends with hats with fox´s tails and first aid boxes in their pockets. We were so happy by the Jizera River. We had everything we needed. Beautiful girls, swimming naked and happy, we had beers, vodka and a little bit of food which we didn´t even need. And most important, we had a little bit of bread and toilet paper. We didn´t need anything else. Summer, be praised.

The sixty-sixth tale – Bones, wine and thrash

Everyone in our families were beer drinkers in Boleslav. For example, for my aunts, who were not really able to walk anymore, I always brought them a bunch of their favourite beers. Yet, our trash crew went to see the wine festival in Mělník each year. It always started the same. Prcalík came to the panels and told everyone that he was not any wine drinker but he believed that person should drink at least as much of young wine as he weights (he slightly edited the saying about drinking the same number of litres as you have blood in you). And we followed that rule each year. I will remember one of those trip forever. On the wine festival were supposed to be DEBUSTROL. And as a real fans we had to go.

A train, again. The slightly frosty morning, the smoking on the platform, the rustling of leather jackets and denim jackets and the discussions about latest musical news. A lot of us went. Basically the whole Boleslav trash cavalry. Someone took a tape recorder and around us was the Debustrol´s Neuropatolog playing. We took the whole coupe for ourselves but there was so much of us that in the next stop people were standing between us. One person kicked me under knee when I watched one girl´s cleavage. I apologized and said that it was the Czech Railways fault. Then the train stopped and the girl fell right on me. Kačenka was angry and Jana was laughing. Prcalík commented something about me being a pasha and having two girls all the time and I was easily able to have a third one. Prcalinka gave him a huge punch on the back. Our black fairies always stuck together and protected us.

On the train station in Mělník was denim everywhere. The weaker ones were laying on the lawns and people were dancing. It was only 8 A.M and Debustrol were playing at 8 P.M. What a great idea, this was going to be bad, said I and Kytka slapped me. He created a plan – first of all we went to Constance in Mělník because it was really “metal”. We paid for the entrance and were notified not to take any bones. We took a few pictures which we wanted to put in an album one day. We talked about it all the time. Everything was fine and almost without any incidents. However, Prcalík tried to steal one massive femur. It was in a basket with the sign – Victims of 1897 epidemic. He claimed he just wanted to try their security system. I was little bit ashamed for my friend but it looked like they were used to those things because they didn´t even call police.

We went to see the confluence of the Elbe and the Vltava River. Flirting with our girls when suddenly Kytka took out a monk skull. We stared at him like crazy because he was always the most decent of us. Bu he said he just wanted to have something as a memory and that he did it for science reasons. He was walking around Mělník´s streets and pretended he was Hamlet. After we carried so many bottled beers all day we wanted to have some young wine. We knew we would vomit after that, but we still wanted to go. We went cross the denim lawns and talked with some metal fans. There was a lot of friends but most of them were in their alcoholic world. We went a few times around the square and drunk the fermented wine, litres of it. It waved us. We also fell asleep on the lawn – me with my girls, Kytka with his skull because he said it was his new girlfriend.

After we woke me we did another round of young wine and Prcalík said the quote which followed us for a long time. He screamed over the crowd of trashers: “Boneeeees, skullllllssss, shiiiiiit”. After a while almost everyone was chanting it. Kytka took his new friend´s skull above his head and walked to a sculpture – a tank. That was the place where Debustrol would play. Here we were. A lot of long-haired individuals in black T-Shirts, some of them in leather jacket and girls with them walked from the small streets. The massacre was ready to start.

And it did. I think I have never seen Debustrol is such great shape. We, as the ultra real fans did a lot of prepared jumps, mosh-pits and I don´t know what else. It was really wild. I remember police taking pictures of us and some families with children were running away to the streets. The Hell was real. Plastic bottles with wine were flying in the air, people were screaming and dancing. The girls were on our shoulders, some people fought. We were like animals, like war warriors in a battle – crazy, wild and intoxicated with alcohol and trash metal. We didn´t want the band to leave the stage. But, as you know, everything ends. Some person came, probably an organizer, and said that it was the last songs. Everyone was cursing him, throwing everything what was around and he run away. “Boneeeees, skullllllssss, shiiiiiit”. We were chanting and then it was the end.

We were walking down the street to the train station. Suddenly, a police officer stopped us and said it was a police control. We were defending ourselves but I guess that was a bad idea because suddenly we were arrested and brought to the station. We were slowly getting more and more sober. From a routine inspection of documents was almost a crime thanks to Prcalík´s cursing and our drunkenness.  So I took the responsibility and went on with my glasses and learned diction. I tried to convince the older police officer that we were just having fun. I was very good, the girls tried to talk really nicely to him and everything seemed great. Then, the second police-officer, young and active, found the Kytka´s skull.

We had a problem. Not because of the skull but because next to Mělník was a murder and these police officers somehow connected the murder with us. “We are fucked up!”: assessed Prcalík the situation and we had no idea what to do. In the end a different police officer saved us. He just came back from the Constance where people reported skull theft of the famous monk. The only one who had some money was Jana so she paid for our fines. We went out of the station like whipped dogs. “So that was real boneeeees, skullllllssss, shiiiiiit…we had no money for the train.”: said Kytka and he apologized to all of us.

We bought at least some bottles of young wine and went hitchhiking. But it took ages until someone stopped because we were drunk, dirty and the festival visitors were always a bad experience. So this time our trip was one day longer. We slept next to Mělník in the forest. We were huddled together like penguins. We walked, hungry and sore. The next day we called Prcalík´s mom from the phone booth and she had to go two times to take all of us home. We were silent in the car because we were sick. Finally, we were home and at the panels. We said goodbye. “But Debustrol was great, right?”: said Kytka and we just nodded our heads.

Kytka and I were reported at school by the police. We had to go to the headmaster and promised to never steal skulls again. We promised and I added: “Yes, sir, with our youthful indiscretions we caused damage to Mělník´s Constance. I apologize for that and I would never steal any BONES, SKULLS nor…I didn´t say the last one because Kytka, who was next to me, was laughing so hard. Then the headmaster kicked us out and behind the doors we heard him talking to the assistant that during his career something like this had never happened to him.

The sixty-seventh tale – The Mosh-pit!

I ran outside the school to get home. What a beautiful weekend awaiting for us. Parents went to th cottage, Kačenka´s parent were gone and there would be only the two of us. I threw my school staff to the hallway and went to the city where my black fairy lived, in the Old Town. I bought some bottled beer and one vodka to be in a good mood. I rang the bell, eagerly. She opened the door for me, wearing T-Shirt of her (ours) favourite Saxon and just panties. Immediately I had a lot of great ideas which are typical for dudes. She saw that and smiled. I was lost in her chestnut eyes immediately. I went inside, the building and her also. We were so in love we even forgot the beers in the hallway.

We were laying there and staring at the high ceiling. Kačenka was the only child, daughter of a vet and bank teller. Over the walls of the room were posters of band and among them were animal posters. At the first glance it was funny, but my black fairy was the kind of a girl who loved dogs and took the alone dogs home and she had a lot of animals at home. Guinea pigs, parrots, snakes, turtle – the aquatic and terrestrial also. I was excited, that was not the first time I was there but finally I was there for more than one quick love action. “Honey, Raper”: whispered she and I tried to keep my tough image. We drank vodka, didn´t really ate that much and the world started to turn. Like a recorder on which Saxon was playing all over again.

In the morning we had beer for breakfast and a shot of vodka, and each other. There was a concert in Boleslav and we walked there. We had a lot of time. I had my denim jacket and a few new patches, it fitted me nicely over my leather jacket. Kačenka took on her pants and showed me the most beautiful ass in the world. That was why we were putting our clothes on for like three hours. The Sun was shining and we went to the park on Štěpánka. The benches were full of old people who fed squirrels. We went up to the summer cinema. We had our special secret spot under the linden-tree. We talked about music and were tangled together. “That is how I want us to be forever”: said she and pointed on a couple walking. Almost eighty years old lady who walked with a stick and was holding hands with her husband. They heard us and smiled like only smart women do.

For a moment I saw two women in front of me. They had never seen each other until that moment. They stared at each other, the youth was in blossom, the wrinkled old age. Two pairs of eyes who understand each other. We, the men stood next to them and they didn´t need us. What a beautiful moment. It looked like Kačenka draw all the knowledge and wisdom of womanhood from this beautiful old lady.

We left them far behind us and promised each other the forever. We went to the garage which was recently robbed but we were slightly putting it together again. “Oh, our lovebirds”: welcomed us Prcalík. We received one bottled beer each and sat on the couch. Someone brought the album by Swizz band CORONER – No More Colour. We liked it. We were tapping our feet and were looking forward for the evening. The whole group of denim vagabonds was there and the garage was full of loud laugh. We were leaving in an hour. Someone put another cassette because we had to get ready for the evening. We opened the garage doors and partied like crazy. We looked like patients from mad house but we didn´t care. One neighbour said that from a distance we looked like being stroked by electric shock.

The street and the evening was ours. I held Kačenka and we were in the front of the whole crew. I felt the power of the group and a lot of people joined us. It would be metal! We were smoking in front of the culture house and drank some bottled beers. When the old lady opened the doors we almost jumped through the glass. We were among the first ones below the stage. Visací Zámek, the punk band, played first. I loved it. We knew them from our friends and we did a real party. Kačenka fell down two times but I picked her up every time. “Jede traktor, jede do hor, orat brambor”: chanted we this anthem in the end. Then we had some beers and went back as close to the speakers as possible.

“So everyone shit yourselves, Debustrol is here!”: screamed Kollins and here we went. Someone flipped a table by the window and a few people had a fight. Classic concert. WE were creaming the lyrics and were dying and were born again and again in an endless mosh-pits. That was how we usually called our “dancing routine” and sometimes we called it the Czech grand circle. I think that was Prcalík´s idea (who else). For us it was the real party. It was the connection between us and the band. It was pure energy supported by youth and alcohol. I jumped and feel stupidly on the side. Something crushed in my leg. I continued jumping. What a massacre, what craziness. Our T-Shirts were wet, hair was greasy. I was kissing Kačenka on the side and we were so happy. Then we went back to the crowd. We showed the devil horns and my voice was almost gone. “Shit, shit, shiiiiit”: yelled Prcalík and Kytka and they took their girls on their shoulders. We joined them and Kollins screamed that tonight there would be a lot of fucking.

We went out after the last, they had to add a lot of songs, song. Prcalík´s friends brought him some bottles of vodka and because you should always drink with your friends he promised to take the bottle to the panels on Monday. “Tonight I want to fuck her till the morning”: whooped our friend and suddenly it was our common quote. “Shut up”: tried some tired worker from his window on the settlement but his nice plea was disclaimed. Everyone was probably happy that we were on the panels again. Me and my black fairy, who looked like and angel today, sat on the top. The bottle of vodka was circling around us and a few bottled beers. We had the tape recorder with CORONER. A few guys who were tired as hell started to party.

We ran a little bit earlier than normally. It was after midnight and we had only a few hours for each other. We had to go to the Old Town, so we ran. The rest stayed on the panels and slept there till the morning. The dog walkers found them there, they fell for trash metal. “It was such a beautiful moment what a great concert and with you”: Kačenka told me touching me and I felt really strong. I whispered words which I had never said to any other girl before because there was no need and I didn´t have those words. Then, just thanks to my youth energy, I took my girl by her waist and we were dancing on the cold street. We were laughing she was shining and I would remember those moments forever. “You are so beautiful”: said I with a gentleness. If only the guys saw me, I thought to myself. So I rather said something tough after that.

A silent lamp in the apartment, the bed kingdom. Silent Saxon was spilling in the room. Animals were waking up in the night and the two of us. The skinny boy with glasses and a beautiful girl from his dreams. That night we didn´t sleep and in the meantime we were saying words which I would definitely not share with you. The stupid morning was there and I had to go home among the rain drops. I didn´t want to go since the bed was so warm. Kačenka with her amazing ass was walking around the long hallways of the old apartment. “It was beautiful”: she kissed me and I asked her if she meant the whole night or our crazy mosh-pit. “Both Raper, both”: her chestnut eyes were sparkling and I was the happiest metal fan in the world. I took on my leather jacket and went to the cold and grey morning. My head hurt so much – until that moment I had not felt anything. I probably did something wrong with my leg.

The sixty-eighth tale – With a guitar in the rain

Beneath the hillsides when you walk through Rokle down to the Jizera River is a bay and a weir. We used to go swimming there to draw the summer and just to have some fun. That day I picked up Kačenka but first she had to show me her new bikini. So we were a little late, just like ordinary young people are. We went there, jumping happily on the stones in Rokle and then we arrived to Podlázky – a small village where we used to go swimming. It felt like 40 degrees in a shadow.

I opened my denim jacket and Kačenka made fun of me for looking as larva who had just been hatched. I was pale and only my hands and legs were tan from the working on the garden. We sat in shadow and looked on the gipsy kids who were jumping down to the weir. When we were kids our parents banned it – from time to time someone drowned there. Prcalík disturbed us when he brought the whole group. “I was wondering about where were you”: laughed he and I saw that everyone was in a good mood. He took out a bottle of rum, our potato dose of joy. Each of us had a shot, and another one. We went to the water. I was swimming behind Kačenka and brought her down under the water. Above us was a hanging rope, an improvised swing. So it was very clear what we will do next.

A race followed for the best jump, crazies jump and there was also rum, burning skin, and girls laughing. It was the summer you need. I jumped very far and teared my thigh with a branch. I screamed. There was so much blood. They brought me out the water and it looked like I was going to bleed to death. The only one who didn´t panic was Kačenka. Her father was a vet and she sometimes helped him. She spiritedly tore her Saxon T-Shirt and bandaged my leg. I don´t like this kind of treatment so I talked a lot but she silence me with a big kiss. So I watched the rest of the summer joy in shadow. I envy everyone because Kačenka was like a water fairy and her new bikini jumped there with her. Uff.

I slowly fell asleep and I dreamed about being in Boleslav´s underground and I was cold. “You are not swimming?”: said someone behind me, I knew that voice. Sabath! That was probably the first time he went out the city so I made fun of him immediately. He had a guitar in his hand and he claimed that in pub By an Oak was a very hot and the fan didn´t work. He was smiling under his retro moustache which was really funny for us (you know, we made some obvious German porn-actor jokes). He took of his clothes and jumped in the water. “Cool, huh?”: screamed from the water: “I used to swim competitively”.

I was watching everything and was sad that I was not able to attend – my leg was twitching. The bleeding stopped, so I wiped my leg with the Saxon T-Shirt and I promised Kačenka to buy her a new one. Jana lay next to me and for the first and the last time in my life she told me that she was stupid not to date me. To be hones I was personally not really sure if I wanted or not but in the end we left in a good mood. Kačenka went off the Jizera River and drops of water was sliding her body. She was beautiful, clear with the smile of a queen. There was a mixture of proudness, youth and the infinite goodness and also the sparkle in her eyes which everyone who is in love has. She cuddled me and I suggested to run to the forest. Then Sabath started to play the guitar. We started a fire.

The fire attracted gipsy children and their parents and also a few teenagers. The guitar was moving from one had to another followed by the bottle of rum and above the Jizera River was a wide repertoire from rock to gipsy songs.  Nothing hurt anymore. It was Friday and the next day we didn´t have to go anywhere. “Look, the storm is coming!”: pointed Kytka to the West and he started to pack his staff. Mirka was always scared of storm. The rest did the same. Me and Kačenka didn´t want to go. First of all, we had to be together for a while and second of all I was limping one leg like Joffrey de Peyrac. Sabath was drunk and fell a few time on his face. The rest took him by his shoulders to bring him home. So in a few minutes, there is only me and Kačenka by the fire.

The storm had started and we were hiding under a lime tree. It was raining heavily and there were a ropes of water on our bodies. I hold the guitar and hugged Kačenka. She was shivering with cold. I covered her with my denim jacket but then I was cold. But I was a slim guy so I had to deal with it. I was scared of the lightning to hit the tree. Finally, we decided to go to the rocks, down under the Rokle to find some dry corner. We run so fast. My leg was behind me and the whomp burst and I was leaving red mark on the sand. But I didn´t want to look like a wimp in front of my fairy. Finally the rocks.

“Hey, look, that looks good!”: Kačenka discovered a sandstone bulge and I was glad that I didn´t have to go anywhere else. We went closer but it was really dark there. I didn´t smoke but I had a lighter in my pocket from the fire lightning. On the lighter was a sing Black Sabbath and I kept it for years. We found a few wooden sticks and dry leaves. We were like two Neanderthals lost in the rain. “Reaper, so you pulled me in a cave, interesting. Me, a gentle girl, who has been waiting for her whole life for a prince and in the end she found a Kopčem.”: she was rubbing dirt and blood from my face. It was pouring rain outside like someone spilled the whole Jizera River.

There was an mutual volition in or bodies and it was beautiful and cool. Thanks to my torn leg I had to lay on my back and my blades were grazed from the rock. I didn´t care. I just get alarmed when there was a rustle of wing above Kačenka. Our hearts almost stopped. “Bats”: said I trying to calm the situation down. After that it was very peaceful and again, I didn´t want this to ever stop.

The darkness was slowly getting to our cave and the rain was still rustling like there was no ending. “Do you want to play for me, please?”: asked Kačenka and I, although I was always a bad guitar player, tried to play some melodies. Not successfully tho so I angrily put the guitar in the fire. Rather than playing the guitar I was telling long stories and put some songs in them also. We both were singing old rock songs in the dark quiet cave.

“What if we stay here forever? We can stay here, far away from people and you will go hunting?”: tried the beautiful and young Kačenka, naïve girl. I smiled with this idea in my head because we would die from hunger. Then, my denim beauty started to cry. “Shit, did my singing made you cry?”: asked I. “No, but by the fire with the other, the gypsy woman read my fortune from my palm”: continued she with sobs. And she told me that the woman took her hand, looked in her eyes and said that she would have a great love and that she has the right man now but it would not be forever. Then she didn´t want to continue but she told her there would be something terrible.

If only I knew what will happen, I would never laughed.

I had no idea how to calm her down so I started to kiss her and then we did the same nice things we don´t want to share. She was crying, even after that she was crying but she didn´t have enough tears. When she talked she told me that she would never survived without me and told me I should be careful. I promised her to try and I really meant it. We promised to each other and then, like a bad sign, one guitar string broke. Kačenka jumped and started to cry again. I had no idea what to do. I just didn´t believe the reading palm things.

I grabbed her hand and we left the cave to the rain. I lifted her (divine!) bottom, threw her into my arms and it was probably my biggest physical activity so far. I brought her up to Radouč on the wet rocks, with my burning leg and she was crying. That night we slept in my place. My mother called her mother that we are not leaving in this weather. I just had to sleep in the next room so we didn´t do anything indiscretion. 

The sixty-ninth tale – A collection of perverse poems

Kačenka gave me a notebook with hard cover. “Write me something nice, I will read it when will not see each other and I can do it as my bedtime story.” I thanked her and I had no idea what to say and what to write. So my fairy explained that she just wanted a few words similar to those I told her on evenings, long walks, trips by train to concerts, before sleeping and when we were in the cottage waiting for the stove to heat up. For a few weeks I put the notebook on my desk, under all those books, tapes and CDs.

Kačenka studied Gymnasium and her school send her to an exchange visit to Belgium. It was for a week and for us it seemed like infinity. We said goodbye in front of the school when the bus was there and we have never been this sad. It was the first time we were not able to be one body and soul. I had no idea how was I going to survive without her. The last kiss, waving and I went down the settlement sad and empty. It was something terrible for young boy in love. That night I drunk so much that Jana had to take me home. By the fridge I met my father who was as drunk as me. I said hi and rather fell asleep with headphones on my ears. I was thinking about Saxon and Kačenka and I was isolated from the neighbours who were throwing dishes on each other.

Suddenly, it was morning. Grey like the panels of the opposite building. I was laying in the bad and then I compassionately wandered around the apartment. No one was there. Everybody left already. I opened the window and wind went into my room. It lifted the papers on my desk and the still intact notebook from Kačenka fell on the ground. I picked it up, took a ceramic pen from my grandfather and for the first time in my life I wrote a poem. It was full of sex, sadness and hopelessness. A week, that was too much for me. Me and Kačenka almost didn´t fight at all, only about books. We were both bookworms, loved the rustling of pages, loved all the stories. That was us. And from time to time we had different opinions.

Books gave me so much for life. Even when I was a young kid my mother left me at home when I was sick and I was reading in my bed all the time. With a flashlight under the blanket, during dinner (I got a few slaps), on the panels, in a train, at school under the desk. Me and Kačka loved Jack Kerouac (our first fight was about what novel is better On the Road or The Dharma Bums), Stephen King for his descriptions of American towns, Jack London for The Star Rover, Axel Munthe for The Story of San Michele. The amazing amount of detective stories, sci-fi (Issac Asimov is god!), war novels. We read the whole compulsory reading list for school and as a bonus the grim Dostoyevsky and even my adventures with Alberto Vojtěch Frič Dlouhý lovec. Of course, Jules Verne, tons of KODs books, comics. The real discovery was Mr. Charles Bukowski for me who always knew how to say everything in only few words. The list of favourite authors would be endless. And it has not even been finished yet.

Me, Kačenka and Kytka, who was reading more than me and Kačenka together, were like sponges soaking letters. Music and books. This beautiful curse was born and so far it has been with me. Prcalík laughed at us, made fun of us of rather living in virtual (well he should see how the world looks like today, he would probably lost it) lives – he would rather take a beer. But we knew what we wanted. We were like the heroes in those books, experienced joy, sadness, we were borrowing each other books and exchanged them (how many books did I lost then?). For example, I always said Read people! Instead of Wake-up people! Old people laughed at me and young people didn´t understand.

During that lonely morning I wrote 50 love poems which were supposed to be only for Kačenka. However, she was so touched with them that she “secretly” showed them to Jana. She came the next day to the panels and told me: “Well thank you so much, I was crying during the whole night”. I asked why with confusion and she said that she read the Perverse poems in one breath. There was a mixture of anger for Káča and excitement that someone liked my timid attempts for poetry. I had no idea what to say, Jana obviously had no idea also so she gave me a kiss and she whispered into my ear: “Thank you”. Prcalík made fun of us and I was glad that the guys never read my words.

Kačenka was suddenly so proud because she had a lover who was writing poems for her. “Who has that”: said she when she read my other fancies. I did it with such pleasure because she had the most devoted look and she was also more pliable. It was the same as when people sit by a bone fire and one good looking guy grabs a guitar. The girls just melt. I have to admit that I took advantage of this but it just had to go out of me.

I was not able to open that hard covered notebook with hundreds poems about sex, youth, joy and sadness for years. I have it home in the basement. A lot of paragraphs should be adjusted for today’s view. A lot of them are amusing but they are a part of me and I would not change a lot. The other person who read it was my wife and her reaction was the same as Jana´s – she cried and said thank you. It looks like the collection of perverse poems still works. 

The seventieth tale – The Munich Night Princess: Part 1

Oh my god, when you go to the cottage with a girl at least you should look good. You have long hair, ripped jeans and you look like a homeless person”: said my mother to me. But I honestly didn´t really care. I was so glad she let me go with Kačenka. I was so excited. Long weekend, the weather was rainy but there were just the two of us, the new album by Obituary and a lot of beer. And I had a surprise for my black denim fairy.

I worked on it for 4 months, took night shifts and cleaned cranes and I was not supposed to be there as a young boy. The money were hard-earned. But it was Káča´s birthday and I was imagining how I kneel down in front of her and give her the envelope with her present.

Heeeey baaaby, the only oneee, the beeeest, the only oneee, hiiiiii, metaaaaal!”: screamed I in front of Kačenka´s house. They rather invited me inside, her father gave me a slightly menacing advice to be good to his daughter (if only he knew what we already did). Her mother looked at me like I was a saint. Mothers of my girlfriends always liked me, and I don´t even know why, and it is like that even now. I would promise everything to anyone and we were both glad when the door closed behind us. I turned and saw Mrs. “Kačenková” who stood by the window with a tissue and she was crying. “She still thinks I am a virgin”: laughed my princess. I took her hand, we kissed and went to the train station.

The train was so cold, there were so many weird people and when we took another train in Turnovo we rather wen to the last wagon. We each had one headphone, the Walkman´s volume was up and we listened to Obituary. Their raw and cold album reminded me the nature around us which was moving fast by the train – Slowly we rot. Finally, Jablonec nad Nisou, backpacks on the backs and we went up to the hill. On the meadow there was rime already. The key was above the door at that time because people somehow believed others. I opened the door, the stale smell breathed to us and I immediately rushed to the stove. Meanwhile Kačenka boiled water on gas cylinder just like I told her. The romantic-sexual-alcoholic-musical weekend was ready.

Our group was mad at us, Prcalík was rude, but we just wanted to be just the two of us. Just me and her. Well, Kačenka wanted so, she was now looking at me with the most beautiful chestnut eyes I had ever seen. The first action happened in the freezing cold blankets. Intense, hungry, amazing. We lie next to each other, talked about everything and drunk beer. I went to the stove to put more wood in and the cottage was warm around midnight. It was raining outside and the atmosphere was really romantic. I was so in love and I wished Kačenka sweet sixteenth. “My dear, my baby, this is my gift for you”: I give her the envelope.
Nooooo, I cannot accept this, Reaper you are crazy, I can´t”: said she emotionally and I knew that I really surprised her. “This is too much, Kuba, two tickets to Saxon concert to Munich, you are crazy, crazy crazy!”: continued she and added that it was probably the nicest gift she had ever received. I thought about all the night in the factory, in canals, the night when I was cleaning all the time and then the search for the ticket through Prcalík´s father, but I did it. “I hope you will take me with you”: laughed I and we ended in the blankets again. We were talking till the morning and fell asleep while two oak logs cracked in the stove.

The next day, I had to show Káča all the places I was going when since I was a kid, each corner, each tree and tell her all the stories – about my first kiss, first sex, and first broken ankle. I know each stone, name of each dog here. We went up to Černá studnice and went to the observatory there and then to the pub where we had few beer. Then we walked for a long time to through the forest back to the cottage. The stove was cold again but we didn´t care. We were there together. Another night without any sleep. In the morning, someone knocked on the door to tell us to go to the pub in the afternoon, because there would be someone calling from home.

We didn´t really eat but we drink a lot. Our parents called at six o´clock. It was a great day, one fried lunch-meat, bread and freezing tap water. I know, two young people, who live just by their nature, from each other. “They are calling, you have a new girl, Kuba?”: yelled the bartender and I rushed to the phone. Kačenka´s father told me a few words and he wanted to speak to his daughter. She talked to him for a long time. “I had to tell him what we ate. That we are warm and we went to a nice walk.” Gently and mercifully lied my dear girl to her father, just like everyone does. I ordered another beer and the night was slowly fading over shiny glasses.

I was so drunk, Kačenka took me home and I was talking about how happy I was to be with her. I lie down and around midnight a familiar melody woke me up. “Saxon, how?”: said I and opened my eyes. My etheric fairy was standing in front of my, wearing a nightie, the one which makes every girl look pretty, and she was dancing. The cottage was hot and from the recorder there was Biff Byford screaming. “Someone had to take care of you and I would be a good wife to you.”: laughed she and suddenly I had to control myself no to kiss her to death. We talked about how to get to Munich, what would Káča told her parent (I just needed to tell my parents, they had their own problems). “Don´t worry”: said I and had no idea how can we manage to go. We were dancing, screaming Saxon together and all the dogs around were barking.

I went by train with Kačenka to get her home. I had no money, had tattered jeans, faded metal T-Shirts. Backpacks on our backs and were so proud that we had each other. I started to talk in front of her door and did my best acting job of all time. Her father was nodding his head for a while, thought about it and then he looked in my eyes like he wanted to kill me and said NO, she is not coming anywhere with you. I was despondent and went away. Kačenka´s mother run to me on the stairs (she had a pleated skirt and I realized after whom is my girl so beautiful). “Don´t worry, we will do something about it, we know how to deal with him, he always acts like he is tough at the beginning, but he would do anything for Kačenka…it is the father-daughter relationship…don´t worry, I will help you, you are nice guy”: she tried to make me feel better. I didn´t believe her.

Hey, hey, oh my god, hurray….I am going to die….Reapeeeeeeer, I love you so much….we are going to Saxon! I will see Biff Byford!”: yelled Kačka the next day when she was walking on the meadow to the panels. The convinced her father and the husband. The whole group was jealous, the girls went together to talk about our weekend at the cottage. Me and they guys had beers and I tried to be cool and said that I wanted to go to see Saxon mainly because of Kačka because I am normally more tough because I had the Vader patch on my back (while I loved Saxon already). Prcalík said something funny but I didn´t listen. I was already imagining what we will do in the Germany with Káča. You will know the next week in the next tale.  

The seventy-first tale – The Munich Night Princess: Part 2

I was a little bit sad that there was no one to say goodbye to us. I knew that we were getting a little bit lost with our group but you know how it is with the first love. Everyone had experienced it. However, we were a little bit shunned by our friends. When we get on the panels the conversation always stopped. When I asked something about music, Prcalík and Kytka just turned their heads away. The only ones who hold the group together were the girls. But you know how it is – you can´t read women´s mind and I started to think that something was wrong.

We went to Prague by train, transgressed to the international express and went to Munic for the Saxon heavy metal concert. The band I started to listen because of my blue fairy Kačenka. The train was rattling and we had already ate like sixth schnitzel. “I am glad you like it, we were frying it with my mum during the whole night”: the girl of my dreams kissed me with her greasy mouth and she cuddled me so intensely that my jeans were suddenly too tight. I gave her the ticket for her birthday and we had been planning this trip for months now. We were saving money, made copies of maps, went through everything again and again. I was freshly seventeen and she was sixteen and we went to the big western world together.

I had already been in Germany with my parents and my German was quite good since I had it in primary school. But still, I was a little afraid. It was not like when you go with your parents and they take care about everything – we had to be responsible here. I was thinking about “how it is going to be” and Kačenka asked me a question about if I took something to drink. My mum gave me some money for food so I bought the real Czech rum. I took it out somewhere between Všetaty and Prague. When we arrived to Prague we were already drunk. We had a beer in a pub next to the station and waited for the Munich train.

I am so excited, we have to go below the stage! I want to see Byford as close as possible”: said Kačenka and I realized that I forgotten the Munich map in Boleslav. I was thinking if we even should get on the train to Munich. But eventually I told Kačenka when we were already sitting in the train. The train was gurgling again, Kačenka was laughing and we fell asleep. “Beroun, come on asshole, get off the train!”: a familiar voice woke me up. I opened my eyes terrified and in front of me was the whole group. Prcalík was laughing and behind him was Kytka with two bottles of vodka and all the girls were there too. Prcalinka, Jana, Mirka. “Surprised? I have been looking forward to see this surprised faces for month!”: laughed our friend. To be honest, I was almost crying just like an old lady. So I rather looked out of the window.

I was moved, everyone somehow got some money to go with us. While the guys were talking about how Saxon was not hard enough and how they went just for the girls, we all knew that we will be screaming the lyrics with the band. Those crazy people of jeans cavalry, friends, wanted to see us together. To party together and put this group of metal fans together again. The main person who organized all of this was Jana who just wanted to see our German love. We sat in the train, screamed, laughed and arrived to the borders with a great attitude and mood.

An officer went to the train and said hello but he looked at us very suspiciously. He send us to go for an inspection with our bags. They were looking for drugs. So there was the first problem. Kytka had 2 joints in his bag because he wanted to have a better experience. “You asshole”: screamed Prcalinka hysterically. The officer told us to go outside. The emptied our bags and we stood on the platform. I was cold. I send the rum to everyone and it was almost empty. “Fuck me, Kytka you asshole, you can´t took drugs over the boarders – everyone knows that – well except for you, you idiot, right?” yelled Prcalík. We stood on the platform for an hour then we had to go to the customs and the train went off.
There was another officer who was like 20 years old and he talked to us in Czech. He said that we were in trouble but he had a solution. We talked a little bit and I put on my glasses to look more mature. He told us that we can go by the next train if we leave all the marihuana there. Kytka protested but someone kicked his leg and he went silent. It was his girlfriend Mirka. We had an hour to spend so we talked about Kytka with glasses of horrible beer in a pub near the station.

Although we almost lost our dream about Saxon, we were in the train to Munich again and the dream was getting closer again. Jana talked to Kačenka about our sexual life, she wanted to know some details and my princess talked about me like I was some constantly horny monster. Everyone laughed at me until we went to Munich. I didn´t care and I was glad that we were together again with all my trash dogs. Banhof Munich. We jumped off the train and we were in the big Germany – excited and confused like squirrels on a carrousel. We didn´t know where to go – we did not have a map.

Gutten tag…”: tried I on some German long-hair person, but he was too drunk. “Well, we are fucked-up again”: commented Prcalík on the situation and he was not wrong. He had his father´s phone number because he worked there. But we didn´t have much time to spend. Then something happened, something which happens only once in a lifetime. Next to your group was a bus and two girls went off. One was bold and ugly and the other one was long-haired and beautiful. They started to kiss and Prcalík said something about how one of them is the dad and the other one is mum. “Asshole, it is the other way around”: said the ugly one in Czech and we met two women who came to Germany to work and have a freedom – and they meet each other.

They had a kiosk on the train station and they helped a group of half-assed metal fans from the Czech Republic who were lost, confused and had no time. “I would kiss you, whatever, just drive us there”: beg Jana and suddenly there were two groups. The girls, who were laughing out loud. And next to them were us guys who knew that the situation is completely out of our control. Klára and Ester, the two lesbians, didn´t like metal but they knew a lot of people in Munich. The girl-lovers community was connected like a sect. It took them one phone call and we were driving through Munich to the concert.

Welcome on the board of your lesbian vehicle”: laughed Praclík and Prcalinka punched him again. We were looking or rather staring out of the window to this city, to the new building, modern cars and basically everything. It was different than the trips with family. We will remember this for the rest of our lives because we had to experience it differently. “Too bad you like boys..”: whispered Ester(the more beautiful one) to Kačenka. I wanted to suggest something but I rather shut up. Prcalík will say it for me on the concert. We arrived to the stadium and there were a lot of denim maniacs. “There will be metal”: said Kytka seriously and we all laughed. We were finally there.

The German metal fans were like us but their faces were more Germanic. I felt like I belonged there since forever. Immediately, we made friends with a group of people – same age boys and girls. They gave us beer and were surprised that we went there from the Czech Republic. Even Prcalík talked to them fluently and he usually only knew how to curse. Music and beer connect nations – I thought to myself and saw Kačenka being emotionally moved. She had the two tickets (my birthday gift for her) in her hands and had tears in her eyes. We said that we will meet by one pole outside when the concert was over. When the door opened I was like a rugby player. I dragged my girl behind me like a kite.
We were right by the boards and the crowd was behind us. The first band playing was Gamma Ray – which we had no idea about. We didn´t really like them so we kissed in the crowd. “Reaper, I can´t wait, you fulfil my dream, that is unbelievable. I can´t believe it!”: hummed my fairy into my ear and I knew I would be able to kill myself just for her eyes. The band finished their part and we were afraid to go to the bathroom so we didn´t lose our spots. I peed in a cup and put it below the stage. Finally, Saxon, our gods. They played the prologue and the long-haired blond heavy metal king Biff Byford jumped like three meters in front of Kačenka. I looked at her and she was weak in her knees.

Then follows something which I will never experience in my life again. The concert of the concerts. The performance which made all the other bands suck. Saxon were unbelievable. And when they played the hit “Princess of the night”, the song which was at that time 10 years old and my Kačenka was suddenly THE Princess of the night. I took her on my shoulders and we were dancing to the rhythm and were yelling the lyrics with our bad English until we fatigued. I have to admit that even I was moved back then. We fulfil our dream – to see our heroes life. All the bad things during the trip, all the work to get the tickets, everything was forgotten. There were just the two of us and Saxon. There was a mutual connection. And when Biff sent an imaginary air kiss to Kačenka (it might have been for another girl but who cares) I had to wipe her tears.

I can´t even describe the beauty of this. Just imagine two teenagers who are in love on their favourite band´s concert. I am writing this and I re-living it again. We didn´t want it to end and honestly, it did not end, we have those memories forever and now it is on a paper also.

Those guitars, those hits on the drums and the voice. The divine voice. We talked about this experience for a long time after the last song. Kačenka looked like she just seen a Virgin Mary and I probably looked the same. We were sweaty, tired but we both had a big smile on our faces. And my blue fairy was crying. She was inconsolable. She was thanking me all the time and I was so happy that I picked up the right birthday gift. We couldn´t find our friends for a while because we wanted to be alone. Saxon hit me that night, they dug under my skin even more. Forever.

We went to a pub to drink some beer and pay with Marks – a currency which almost expired. We didn´t care that we just drank for like six payments from our jobs. We just wanted to have some fun. We drank the German beer till morning when we caught the first train to the Czech Republic. I don´t remember if we went to the U-bahn or S-bahn train station. But I remember Prcalík telling everyone about the best transportation by Czech-German lesbian girls. Me and Kačenka, we didn´t really care about everything around us. We didn´t even care about the cold on the train station, the passport inspection. It is clear that we talked about this for a long time after that.

The trip back home was easy. The journey was quick because we were full of experiences and talked for the whole trip or slept. Just Kačenka´s father envy us and he was waiting for us since we left to Germany. Because he was the one who made this possible. He introduce Saxon to my fairy, she introduced them to me and then he let her go to the concert to Munich. He had never seen them himself. Despite the fact that he was probably the biggest fan.

My girlfriend´s father gave me my first beer when we came back to Boleslav. “There you go, sit and talk, how was it?”: said he and gave my cold Klášter beer. I drank it and he offered me to call him by his first name. We sat in front of each other and I slowly started to talk about Kačenka first. He stopped me and said that he knew that I liked her but he wanted to know about Saxon. I felt like I became his son, the son which every dad wants. Meanwhile, the princess of the Munich night was talking to her mother about the same story but from a different point of a view. 

The seventy-second tale – Deathman´s seventeenth birthday

I was visiting my beautiful fairy aunts on a Saturday morning and I was singing to myself: “My great aunties, you are so tiny, so nice and I really really like you!”. They gave me a box with sweets, just like when I was 5 years old. However, I was there, 17 year old boy with long hair and heavy glasses. I was wearing mole-skins which were so itchy and a shirt. I refused to wear a tie. A brown topknot in a ponytail was OK looking thanks to my girl-friends who were cutting my hair sometimes. When I went back from a cold stony bathroom I caught sight of my own reflection in the mirror. “That is not so bad”: I thought to myself and did a grimace. I want back to the family celebration.

My aunties brought a lot of baked goodies on a table and I was drinking a juice like a good boy. We were talking about school, my future after leaving school exam, my love life. “Yes aunties, I have a girlfriend and she is a daughter of a vet”: I joked and they knew exactly who I was talking about. Well, Boleslav is a small city and my aunties had their radars set up everywhere. We had a lunch – crispy goose, as big as the table. “His father, your future father-in-law´s was in the working camp too but he didn´t survive”: told me my aunties but I was already thinking about something else. My and Deathman´s birthday party was a big deal and the whole group perceived it like a pope´s visit.

Whenever I was in my aunts´ house I was in a good mood. Despite all the horrors, despite the unjust fate, these relatives were always happy and in a good mood. We always had a good talk. This time, I went home with my mom and brother, I changed into a pair of ripped jeans with holes but I went to the cellar and changed again to a different and even more ripped jeans. I wore my denim jacket, Chinese sneakers and I went to Prcalík´s place. He was the one helping me with the party. We loaded a push-cart with bottled beers, rum, vodka and all kinds of greasy food and pickles in the garage…and it started to rain. “Well, we are young and no one could have known that it will rain”: said Prcalík and he looked quite intended. Eventually he told me to cover the push-cart with a plastic bag and took it to the panels.

Our girls looked like drowned rats and they all started to help me. Only Kačenka was missing, they told me she was running late. My parents gave me a mountain bike. It was quite surprising because I was in my puberty and we did not get on well. Prcalík run it with Sabath who immediately took one of the rums and drank a great peg. “I´m your salvation, buddy!”: smiled Sabath and showed us an military tent. I fetched a sigh of relief – my rainy birthday was saved. Our girls were chattering their teeth in cold and I was thinking about why they were even dating us (discophiles who were driving in ternary BMWs and betting money in pubs so they could have a little bit more money than they usually did as a poor people).

I don´t know. I still have to think about it. Those girls had a hard times with us. We just talked about music all the time, had no money because we spent everything on beer, CDs, cassettes or T-Shirts. They could not have expected any comfort or a slight romance. They might have been with us because we were always laughing and took good care of them. However, even today I can´t believe how much they sacrifice for us – they tolerated our bullshit jokes and took care of us. God save those days when we met our denim fairies!

I walked like a patriarch with all the girls around me and we went to the panels. And there were the guys who looked very mysterious. “Well doing a garden party inspired by the show Beverly Hills 90210, but in November that could be only your ideas, Raper”: laughed Praclík. And I felt like the poorest student. Despite having the most beautiful girl on the world and the best friends, I had almost no money. There was Sabath walking towards me with a man who warned us not to vomit on the tent or burn it. “We will just eat some caviar, drink some champagne and will talk about literature, then we will return your tent”: claimed Kytka and handed the bottle of rum to the men. He drank a half of the bottle and humbled something.

There were snowflakes flying between rain drops and I was wrapping myself up in my sweater which was knitted by my grandmother and she thought I would wear it to school (but it was the metal, oversized sweater so sorry grandma, I never wore it to school). The glasses were clicking but something was missing. It felt like everybody was waiting for something, there were nervous. And then, in the distance, there was a white Škoda car which was called flying swan by Kačenka. There was her father behind the wheel. They jumped out of the car. My most beautiful black fairy jumped right into my arms. She was kissing me hard and her father looked away with his face turning red. “Well, my friend. This is your gift from us, happy birthday!”: said him. It looked in the back and on the seats was a package covered with a blanket. “Dude, what a family, they gave him a bunch of blankets. That is it, there should be a wedding!”: laughed Prcalík and we all cheered.

I carefully took out the heavy box. “Here, there is my gift so you can cut anything you need”: said Prcalík and handed me a new beautiful knife. Kytka gave me a book about Slayer. There were too many friends wising me happy birthday so I was not even able to open the box. There are the girls, kissing me and I was almost blushing. “Kuba, Kubíček, Raper, just stay the same as you are”: said Jana and gave me Alex Munthe´s book Story of San Michele. That was the book which have took me out of the deepest shit it my life. But I had not known that at that time so I just thanked her with pathos.

Prcalinka gave me my favourite Vader album “Morbid Reich” which I had but only on a cassette. Mirka gave me a handmade warm scarf with Slayer´s logo and I put in on my neck immediately. I did not want to stop with the kissing but I glanced on Kačenka´s eyes and she was the only person I wanted to see. Finally, I was able to open the box. And there it was a new Panasonic sound system in black version (it was my second one – the first one was Technics which was bought in Germany). “What, what, is that really for me?”: stuttered I feeling like I was in a dream. Next to me was the father nodding his head with satisfaction. We smiled at each other and I was still talking nonsenses about how big the gift is but I was already thinking about how I was putting the first CD and hitting the play button.

 “Well, buddy, thanks to this your neighbours´ ceramics in bathrooms will go off when you play this on the maximum volume”: said Kytka counting the technical details on the box. And I thought to myself that I had never received that many gifts for my birthday. In excitement I jumped on my potential father-in-law and wanted to hug him. Then I realized that we were guys so I just tapped his shoulder. Kačenka wanted to talk to me and said that that was not all yet. In the dark, right on the top of the panels was a plastic bag with holes. It was full of snow and rain and Kačenka wanted me to go there to have my gift from her (she will give me other gifts in the night when we will be alone).

Kačenka´s father left and he took my new stereo from my dreams to my house. My parents knew everything about it. I had to drink a lot from the surprise and I drank almost the whole bottle of beer when I was climbing on the panels. I climbed one panel after another to make everyone excited. Then I stood up in the rain and freezing weather and raised the bag above my head – just like hunters do with a quarry. There was a new Vader – Morbid Reich T-Shirt. Since my last birthday I received a patch for my jacket so now I had everything created for the album and the band. Kačenka told me not to wear it now but I wanted to have my new T-Shirt on my body now. When I was half naked, there was an applause and cheers around the whole panels like flapping wings. I was the happiest guy on the whole settlement.

I thanked to everyone and when there was a complete darkness we all drank till we fell asleep. There was laugh everywhere and I knew that this night was important and I had to be careful because it was my birthday and that will never happen again. We were supposed to sleep in Kytka´s place because his mother had a new boyfriend and she was in his place. The truth is that I fell on my face few times and my new T-Shirt was dirty like I was in a fight in mud. Someone gave Kytka a knife and he did a pentagram on the tent. But it is also true that this party was legendary. We were poor but in mutual metal cohesion and the group felt stronger than ever. There were 2 another years before us before the destiny did something horrible. But at that time, we had no idea.

Kytka was the only one who was not able to go away form the record-player which was playing Vader in my honour. He was drunk and wanted us to leave him there because he wanted to freeze. As drunk people usually do he cried, because the death of his father was coming back to him but I did not hear that. Mirka gave us keys so my birthday was not ruined and we went to Kytka´s home with Kačenka. We went to the bedroom and she gave me the surprise I had never expected. In the distance we heard the others arriving.

“You are seventeen, Raper. In two years I will be too and we can get married”: whispered Kačenka to me in the bed and I realized that I was poor as fuck or like a monk who went against all material goods but at the same time I had everything I wanted. (I did not think about marriage at all, it was a thing which will just happen at one point, when there will be time. I wanted to be with Kačenka forever, I knew that, I was sure). I was with beautiful, smart and nice girl, my friends were the best ones. My fairy was caressing my hair and I felt handsome, although I was not. I don´t understand it even now.

For I while I tried to fantasise us from above. I saw an angel with black hair with slightly bended knee and under the blanket she had a great bottom. “Yes, shit, I am happy, I am so happy”: I thought to myself but I probably said it out loud because my princess of all the dark girls somehow purred in her sleep like a cat. I kiss her on every piece of skin I saw and fell asleep with dreams, fauna, beauty and sleep.

In the morning, I was not sure what was reality and what was just a dream. Kytka vomited in the next room and Mirka slightly argued with him. I stood up, opened the fridge and took a beer. I told everyone not to disturb me and Kačenka until noon and I locked myself with Kačenka in the bedroom. My girl drink a little bit of the beer, gave me a kiss and we were suddenly really hot. “Well, that is it. Now you are 17!”: my girl laughed at me and I knew that this birthday were Raper´s best birthday so far. The rain had stopped but it was heavily snowing now and it reminded me that I was older again.