Alfred Hermanni

Stoned in Germany - A true story



by Alfred Hermanni   21.01.2009  All rights reserved


It was a warm evening in springtime, when I sat in my room. I’d just smoked a joint as a grisly scream, coming from the attic, broke the silence around me. It was not long ago when my new neighbour moved into this rooms. Few months ago myself lived in this little attic, as I started to study. Small and cheap, exactly the right flat for a poor student. But the narrowness in this rooms was really depressing and sometimes also weird.


It was a quiet house, from the rooms on the first floor I’d never heard any noises. An old Lady lived there, fearful and confused.

And now this scream!

Followed by the next scream.

>>You don’t get me! Go away! Disappear! Leave me alone!<<,  I heard from upstairs.

With a loud crash something smashed on the wall. Noises of cracked glass, clashing fragments from porcelain, mixed with the next loud scream.

>>I’ll beat you in pieces! Get away! Leave me!<<

An incredible screeching, followed by a mighty roaring and something heavy which bursts at the wall, was the next what I heard.

A dull impact let the wall tremble.

I began to shiver. I didn’t even know my new neighbour, I’d never seen him before and because of this I didn’t had any idea about him.

Now I thought he was a mighty giant, seven feet high and a weight around three hundred pounds with hands as large as pans.

But I wouldn’t really know if I’m right or not. I guessed, the giant tears me in two pieces.

And then. Silence.

Resolute I opened the door and stepped upstairs, after all to the first floor.

Courageously,plucky and brave I knocked on the door from the old Lady.


As she opened, I asked her if everything was all right. I told her that she shouldn't worry and so on…

But the old Lady didn’t realize anything, not one noise she had heard. She looked at me astonished and shakes her head. Then I heard the giant opening the door. On my tiptoes I stepped downstairs to my rooms and locked the door.




Two days later it started again. Again in the evening and also again with a grisly scream. Neither I’d seen my neighbour and further he was for me the giant with the big hands.

Because I smoked a pipe with black Afghan Dope before, in my fantasy the giant grown up six inches higher.

The noise rose. It was loud. Very loud. I was scary. THC and Adrenaline. This is pure madness. Really Crazy.

The giant was on the floor and a mighty roaring escaped from his throat. I was scary again. Fully stoned I sat on the couch as the noise vanished. And then the giant disappeared in his cave.


A few days later I heard steps coming from outside. I went to the door, breathed in deeply, focused myself to the now inevitable threatened calamity and opened the door.

And there he stood, my new neighbour.

The seven inches tall giant, with hands as big as pans, shrunk to a young guy, maybe twenty years old, just 5 feet and five inches small and skinny like Twiggy.

His mark was a wide grin on his face.

>> Hey man, what’s the matter with the rubbish which you’re performing here?<<, I asked him. I was really brave.

>> Don’t do anything to me<<, he whimpers. >>Monsters and terrible creatures are coming out of the wall. They wanna get


A question mark appeared above my head.

>> I took sometimes too much LSD and now I always see these Zombies and Aliens, coming out of the wall to catch me. Ever and ever. But I don’t want it. This must come to an end<<, he whined. There we stood and I felt sorry, what could I do? Something like >> Don’t make any problems<< I mumbled and went back in my rooms.



I spent some days in Netherland and came back home.

Like always it was very quiet in the house. Because I had suddenly a strange, uncertain feeling I stepped upstairs to the loft.

A broken chair, cracked dishes, dump in variously sorts, parts of a cupboard, an used basin from the lavatory and other things disturbed the usual monotony of the stairway.

I climbed through this mess upstairs and saw that the door from the flat of my neighbour stood open.

>> Hello?<<, I called. No answer. I went in…


… and nearly puking I stepped back. 

The flat was alive!

The life spread around the table, creeps out of the basin with the dishes, flows along the carpet into the living-room.

It crawls on the wall and stuck on the ceiling. It was really to hot for ice on the window. These were cultures of cells, which decorates the window. I saw never such a mess. A man was living here, an adult man.

Tainted meat and food, dirt and dump all covered with white, green and blue mould.

It looked really delicious. I saw enough, I wouldn’t go any step further into this rooms.


One week later me and my brother in law, Uli, came back from the soccer training. We wanted to look a soccer match on TV, have fun with some beer and funny cigarettes. A few yards in front of the entry, I pushed Uli away from me, it was just a reflex and in this second a Television crashed between us and burst. We looked upwards, seeing my neighbour who wanted to smash an old radio out of the window.

Again he had this wide grin on his face.




It was afternoon on Saturday, our soccer-team had a match against another team. I saw Elke, a girl-friend of mine, with her motor-scooter “Dora” driving to the field. “Dora” was the name, because it had the signs DO-RA… on the number-plate and also it drove slowly like aunt Dora. It was really not a young scooter.

Elke was waving to me and so did I.

Elke was waving like she’s in panic. I wondered why and walked to her.

>> Hurry up!<<, she cried.>> Your house is burning and Henri is still inside!<<

Henri was my dog and faithful pal. The best I ever had.

My walking changed to running, pretty fast, running changed to driving on the scooter, but for me not fast enough. A few endless minutes later we arrived at my burning house. The fire-brigades were busy, an ambulance car, the police and all others which were on duty has been there.

A black cloud of smoke spread above the house and vanished very slowly.

I jumped from the scooter and ran to the entry in the courtyard. On the way I saw Henri behind the window, he wags his tail and I believed to see a smile on his face. Or was it a grin?

I turned around the corner and stopped immediately.

There he was, my neighbour, escorted from two cops, one of them was holding him tight at the handcuff. My neighbour looked straight to me.

Again I saw his wide grin on his face.




A year was passing by. I didn’t spent any time to think what happened then.

I drove with my red and white ’74 Opel Ascona into the city. It was a cool day in summer, sometimes at the end of June and I felt pretty good.

On the radio I heard “So lonely” from “The Police” and I found out again that “Sting” is really a fantastic musician and singer.

A few blocks further I saw a police-car with flash-light and siren chasing around the corner.

This is perfect, I thought, to hear “The Police” and to see the police.

At the next traffic-light I stopped and suddenly two big lorries from the fire-brigade passed by with flash-light and sirens.

This was not comparable with the sound from the radio, but this is the real sound of a big city. The traffic-light turned to green, I speeded up and had a look to the side, where I saw the firemen in action. A fire in the roof of a house was still burning. Dramatically scenes could be observed. Short associations to an event in former times were running through my mind. Floated through my brain, irritated different nerves and manifested to thought in my consciousness here and now.

Then I had to stop again at a traffic-light.

And then I saw him.

My ex-neighbour!

He was straight looking to the fire.

And again he had this wide grin on his face.


The End

Dear reader, according the title this story is 99% true. If jou want to know which detail isn't true, send me an e- mail.




All rights belong to its author. It was published on by demand of Alfred Hermanni.
Published on on 05/19/2010.


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