Project Sabertooth Read online



  Project Sabertooth

  David Jensen

  Copyright 2016 by David Jensen

  First of all, the misspelling of the word Sabertooth is intentional.

  (Because it looks so much cooler than the correct spelling.)

  All of the names are fictitious and any resemblance to persons living, Moribund, or already deceased is truly a coincidence. But, all of the places, with the exception of the Turkish restaurant and Turkish Bar, are authentic,. The three legged Cat which belongs to my neighbor is also authentic! (And he seriously hops around like in the book!)

  Cover Design by Na Dine

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  2007

  So, I’ve finally had enough of all of this. I had already made up my mind quite a long time ago to submit my paperwork to retire when my time ran out. Twenty-Five years was long enough, and the never ending transfers from one station to the new one were getting pretty tiresome. Till yet I've had the luck of a leprechaun, for with the exception of my tour in Iraq, when every new station transfer would send me to some god forsaken place on this planet, I was able to find an open spot somewhere here in Germany. That means that at some point in time, my lucky streak would probably run out and they would send me to Korea, or worse yet, back to the dustbowl capital of the Orient, Iraq. Nope, “been there, done that” as the old saying goes!

  Now I was sitting in the office and filling out the tome of paperwork, in triplicate of course, and the chief officer was ribbing me. “So tell me, what you planning on doing now that you have free time on your hands? And where are you going to settle down at?” “I'll probably travel around the country and get drunk on every different brand of beer they have here!” I answered. “No man, don’t tell me that you're seriously going to settle down here in Germany, the land of Sauerkraut are you?” The chief ranted. “Have you gone nuts or is this simply case of temporary insanity?” In a heartbeat, the whole office went deadly still. Suddenly the chief officer realized his mistake, and slowly turning around, faced the civilian secretary. Her name was Stegmuller, Helga Stegmuller. And as bad as her name sounded, so was her attitude! She had a look pasted to her face which they could have used on the battlefield to kill the enemy straight off, and she very slowly said; “I beg your damn pardon! Either I hear an apology in the next five seconds, or I might just come down with the flu for the next five weeks, and stay at home where nobody can insult me!”

  After another month I was out, and at first I was like a little lost dog. It never even occurred to me to contemplate as to where I should go to live! So I decided that since I was stationed so long and so many different times in the general area of Stuttgart, that I would look around there. At the Realtors office in Zuffenhausen was an advertisement for an apartment to sell in Kornwestheim, directly across from where I once used to be stationed. “The post was torn down a long time ago, thankfully, for it was becoming an eyesore!” The Realtor said. It's a lot better now because there is a shopping mall there, including a MacDonald's!” “But I have to tell you, the apartment is really small. I mean it's nice, but tiny!” “I have never set my feet into a MacDonald's and never will.” I said. “As far as the place being so tiny, well, I live alone and that means that I'll have even less to keep clean! Let's go take a look at it!” With my generous retirement pension from the army, and what I had stashed away in the bank, I bought it straight out, without any type of credit. My new home awaited me. With very little furniture at all in the apartment, I started to tour around Germany. As a newbie here I would've liked to travel around and see some things. In a sense, I traveled almost every day, but I got to see relatively little! I didn't have the opportunity to 'travel and see the world' like normal soldiers. I tried to visit West Berlin once, but due to my security clearance, I had to depart the bus at the army missile station in a town called Hof, which was located on the border between West Germany and East Germany. I wasn't allowed into the communist zone, so I spent the whole weekend getting drunk and walking around the small post. Now that I am a free man, and the Berlin Wall unfortunately no longer exists, I went! Then Berchtesgaden, Switzerland, Austria, Bodensee,Triberg with their cuckoo clocks, and a whole lot of other places where I never had to drive to before. A few days here, a week somewhere else, but I always coming back here for a break, because home is where you hang your hat up. And I must admit that all those tours were tiring after a while! I also noticed that I was starting to get lazy and a light ring of flab had started to show around my hips. So I started to lay off of the beer. Well, I still do indulge once in a while! Jogging every morning till my legs burned and afterward a cold shower was now on the daily morning plan. I even have a live-in roommate now, but a handicapped one that needs to be cared for and loved. I started to get back in shape and was eating healthier, although the one thing I just can't pass up is a good Turkish Dóner Kebab. One morning when I was really pushing it on my jogging tour, I got a cramp in my lower stomach which literally knocked the wind out of me, making me fall to my knees in the wet morning grass. After it had finally passed and I was able to stand again, I decided that maybe I should walk the rest of the way home. Things went pretty much on a daily basis, but the pains in my stomach started to come more often. So it was off to visit the doctor’s office. After getting checked out, I received a transfer paper from my doctor to see a specialist at the hospital for more extensive test. Is it better to know the current condition of your health, or not? More than often not, but sometimes yes! As in my case.

  2009

  “So how long do I really have left?” I asked the Doctor sitting across from me at his IKEA styled desk. Three ink pens and a variety of tongue depressors were stuck into a round drinking cup sponsored from one of the big pharmaceutical companies. On the right side was his Apple computer with mouse and keyboard, and a lonely prescriptions pad. Nothing but the bare necessities in this office! But then, when one realizes that in this room nobody will be healed, what does one expect?

  Procrastinate: “To put something on the back burner till it either becomes a necessary task, or it takes care of itself without outside help.” Everybody that I know has either been to the examinations and such or has solid appointments coming up. And when asked, I had always lied and said that either I was or am going to get a complete examination. It had been on the back burner for a couple of years now, and as nature would have it, it took care of itself! Well, sort of! I still had to get the examination done, and it was, as the Doctor had explained to me, much much worse than if I had come in to see him last year. Or even sooner. Right, but my rectum still felt like half the Dallas Cowboys had done at me as I waited the eternal time it takes hospitals to check out the results of my test.

  So now I'm sitting in this make-believe doctor’s office waiting for him to check out the results one more time, as if the laboratory boys didn't do their job to the utmost of their professional proficiency. The waiting wouldn't be half as bad if they had something on the walls to look at in the interim, maybe a few of those typical hospital paintings which are more than likely done by some old lady at the retirement home across the street. I let out a big sigh, but to no avail. This is one German doctor who is going to play this out till his shift comes to an end. “Hello! I asked how long do I have!” I now asked in a really sarcastic tone of voice. Because if it's one thing I don't like is to sit around being idle and watching the clock tick the seconds away. Now that I still didn't get any response from him, and seriously wondering
if he fell asleep with his eyes open, I whisper softly to him; “Are you alive?”

  “Very much so, and I would appreciate it if you would firstly not be so arrogant and secondly, speak German.” He retorted. “I can't,” I said, “well just enough to find the train station or to order a Curry-wurst. And as a doctor, you learned Latin and English on top of the German you learned as a boy, so don't jive me that you cannot understand me!” He took off his glasses and laid them on the prescriptions pad, then looked at me and answered; “I learned German and Latin here in Germany, my English was almost perfect when I went to the University of California for my last two years, and you Mr. Bennet spoke almost perfect German into your Cell phone when I passed you in the hospital lobby! So, can we quit with the jive games now?” I just had to smile and answered then in German; “You win this round Doctor! But how did you know me from the lobby?” “You must be relatively new to our social medicine system,” he answered. “If not you would know that your picture is on file in the systems computer!” “So.” I