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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)	By : runningnakedinthepark Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Rammstein Views: 2131 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Rammstein. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 26
- 27
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Title: KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Author: Robby a.k.a. Mr Naked
Rating: NC17/AU
Pairing: everyone and then some more
Disclaimer: I was smoking some really good stuff when I came up with this. (Means it's all a fantasy, for those with water instead of brain.)
Betas: Flowers and thank yous go to Hannelore_K

KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)
Part III – Just Like You Imagined
Chapter 27.

“Nice dog,” a man’s voice wakes me from this torpor that was spreading through me under Frau’s touch; I twist my head and a growl escapes through my muzzle. Free my mouth, and I’ll rip his fucking leg off!

The man, nicely dressed, in his 40s, backs off when he sees Frau’s metallic sharp blue glare. He has a wife and kids somewhere. I know that and Frau knows it too. They always hit on Frau; we don’t like that, because sometimes it angers and offends Frau. The man continues his walk, as I bring myself closer to Frau’s shin. I close my eyes and lean my cheek over Frau’s thigh. Through the fabric of the skirt, Frau’s warmth spreads over my face. I still wish Frau would free me of this muzzle. I sigh, saddened.

I know that Richard is there, making out that he’s the head of the pack, in my absence. After me, he is the strongest one, but he’s cunning and sneaky; he has the ways of a feline, acting the cute and the playful one when I can read clearly his intentions, in his eyes like those of a tiger. That wild glitter that he hides under his eyelids as he’s squinting at us – he’d devour anything and nothing would stop him. But he’s faking and playing the submissive until he gets what he wants. And he almost always gets what he wants. I do too, but only because I’m feared.

Only Frau doesn’t fear me. Frau loves me and I love Frau. Frau brings the food; Frau brings the water, the comfort and the punishment. I have to listen to Frau’s will before my own will. Because Frau is the one pulling the leash, and making that collar tighten around my throat, choking me. But Frau knows what I like and what I want, even better than myself; Frau knows when I’m angry and when I’m sad, and brings me comfort with her touch. And what I want is her touch; in those moments I’m on the top of the world, nothing else matters, everything else ceases to exist.

But I know, too, when Frau is upset; that stone cold soul inside Frau’s tall and slim body has its moments. When I’m near Frau, though, Frau doesn’t have to fear, or to be sad. And Frau knows that I’m aware of what’s troubling her soul. Other humans treat us as simple dogs; for Frau we are the only things that she allows herself to love, and the only things loving her in return.

This scent getting closer to us makes me open my eyelids a bit. It’s an old woman approaching our bench; she is tired, her aged back is aching. She’s looking for a place where she can rest her old bones, and stay away from the merciless sun. The old woman asks Frau for permission to sit, and Frau allows her to take a seat on our bench.

“These hot summer days are bad for old women like me,” the newcomer comments, and Frau agrees, as her fingers are playing on the back of my neck.

I sense and then hear Paul thumping as he’s running toward us. I smell his heated scent, as he passes by and stops to sniff our new acquaintance.

“He won’t bite,” Frau assures the old lady on a flat tone.

Paul doesn’t waste much time anyway, there are too many things out there that have to be sniffed and played with. Only I am punished, having to wear this nasty muzzle!

“That’s one big and strong dog,” the old woman comments. “It must really eat a lot.”

“He’s a good dog,” Frau replies on her stern voice, as she keeps massaging my shoulders through the cloth of my coat.

I stretch my neck even more along Frau’s thigh, as I’m squeezing my eyelids and growling in pleasure.

Yeah, I’m a good dog. I guard Frau’s life just as Frau is taking care of mine. When Frau walks me out, no one dares to get near us. I’ve chased away so many who would do wrong to our Frau. Some of them are still wearing the marks of my fangs and claws imprinted on their skin and flesh for good. Oh, I’ve tasted their blood on my tongue when I ripped their flesh open!

“How many do you have?” The old woman is in the mood for conversation.

“Five.”

“Oh, it must be difficult.”

“Yes, but it’s worth it. Some times they are better than any human.”

“This is true; they have pure souls and…”

And the old woman and Frau go on with their chatter as I let myself slip into this sweet torpor, lulled by their voices, the restless whispers of the leaves, the murmurs of the water in the fountain, the screams of children and the growls of the other dogs like me playing in the park.

The two of them talk about neutral things - pets, this world that seems to have gone crazy, with all these bomb attacks. Frau’s voice is always deep, low, never raising, never screaming, stern and distant; no one is allowed to guess Frau’s feelings, no one is allowed to peek inside Frau’s soul because they might see what only I, what only we, the Frau’s five pets, can see.

The wind through the branches is getting faster and cooler, and the shadows have thickened. The old lady has left our bench long ago.

Frau’s muscles tense a bit. I jump up on all fours. I know – time to go home! Time to eat – I’m hungry. And then, maybe, Frau will make a gesture to show me she forgives me.

Frau calls the others, and they all gather around us. Frau puts our leads on and we start walking again. The others smell of earth, of leaves and heated grass, and of the other creatures like us that they’ve been playing with.

This time I manage to shut down my instincts; I don’t start chasing others of our kind we meet on our way, I don’t run after the howling metal monsters, I don’t burst out as if driven insane by the crushing sound of the subway train.

Soon we are out again, in our old neighborhood, where Frau lives with us, in one of those yellowed by time two story buildings. Working class and immigrants. All the languages, colors and smells of the whole world have gathered here, in this small square.

Before we climb to our little apartment, Frau stops at the corner shop; a middle aged fat Turkish guy gives her the usual – the Sunday candy box. Always the same brand, always the same flavor. The Turk guy doesn’t comment, but I know just what thoughts cross his mind. It’s about all those things that cross the minds of everyone that lives in this neighborhood – the things they say about Frau.

They can’t say them out loud; they can’t do anything to Frau, because Frau never gives anyone a reason to argue, no one can reproach Frau for anything. But I can read in their hearts how they fear and how they despise this person that intrigues them so much with her stone cold allure, her loneliness and the way Frau keeps everyone at a distance from her own private life.

Here, in this place where everyone knows what everyone else does, what they have inside their small apartments, who’s cheating with whom, when they eat, what they eat, when they sleep, fornicate, shit or fight - well, here, Frau’s attitude and secrecy is an abomination. A sin. A heresy!

And Frau knows it. Frau senses the lewd glances of the men, sliding over her tall and slim figure, her thighs profiled through the fabric of her skirt - her always long enough to cover the knees skirt! - the same men that badmouth her and call her a tramp. Frau knows also of the jealousy of the women; envious of her fine and perfect silhouette, of the way men turn their heads after her on the street when she walks by. Frau ignores them all and pretends that she doesn’t notice everyone’s struggles to give her a hard time, starting with the comments made by neighbors as she passes by, comments said in whisper, but loud enough to be heard by the target.

They even tried to get Frau evicted because she keeps five pets in her house. First they tried to force her to give us away. But Frau wouldn’t; we’re all Frau has now, the only things remaining, the only souls to offer Frau unconditional love.

The smell of chocolate coming from the old books, the dry warm scent of the wooden and worn out furniture, the wall in the lounge - covered with all those pictures and post cards - tell me that we’re home.

Frau takes the muzzle off my mouth; I clench my jaws and grit my teeth – it’s so nice to feel my tongue again. I sit patiently as Frau takes off my clothes as well – no need for them inside the house. So nice to feel my bare skin again and to walk freely on the thick fuzzy carpets again!

Frau undresses us all, and then she changes into house clothes as well.

Richard jumps on the couch, claiming it all for himself as he sprawls his muscled body over it so no one would dare to climb on his couch. I could just walk over there and growl at him, showing my teeth – he’d jump off the couch in that instant; he’d whimper, lower his head and throw me these ferocious glances while allowing me to take my place. But I can’t be bothered right now.

Olli follows Frau into the small kitchen as she’s preparing our food, while Paul keeps nibbling and biting Flake when this one isn’t paying attention. When Flake turns at him, annoyed, Paul growls and reveals his rusty colored teeth.

I sniff the air as the wind brings coolness from outside – yes, it will rain soon!

Frau loves the sound of rain; it soothes Frau’s tainted soul. And we love the rain too, because we get to gather with her in the bed, near her warm body, while her hands caress us.

My glance gets stuck on that wall – I never know what these pictures are there for, or why humans need them - these images of other humans or places frozen on that paper. Paper doesn’t even taste good!

Humans, so strange and so pointlessly complicated!

Just like I can’t understand why Frau stops in front of this wall from time to time, to stare at those silhouettes - prisoners of the paper - while in her soul starts a really painful battle. Why look at something that makes her so mad and so bitter?

But no, Frau keeps doing it, in spite of the torment in her heart; she looks at the image of the young guy with a very, very short haircut, as he smiles happily like he has no worry in the world. He is wearing a khaki uniform and carries a rifle. Time was merciless with this piece of cardboard, but I can tell that the guy has blue eyes, and a face very familiar to me. Then Frau’s look moves to another piece of paper – the image of the same army man, this time holding his cubs, a boy and a girl. And next to this picture, another showing two teenagers, a boy and a girl, also. They both have very blue eyes, and very familiar facial features. When Frau looks at this particular image, love and sadness pour from Frau’s soul, so thick, so warm, I can almost grab a bite of it.

I hate those things on the wall, because they upset Frau so much! One day I managed to grab one of them and I threw it on the floor and broke it. Small pieces of its cover pierced through my skin making me bleed, but that didn’t stop me from tearing that thing apart.

It was the first and the only time Frau ever got mad at me. So mad, that she hit me with the leash, repetitively, over my back and legs. Then she threw the leash and grabbed me in her arms as she was whimpering and salted water was streaming down her face.

Frau never hits us, doesn’t even shout at us. It’s enough, one of Frau’s low and deep voiced comments or one of those fierce looks in her cold blue eyes to put us back to our places when we misbehave. But on that day Frau’s body was burning with anger, and I never understood why Frau didn’t see that I wanted to help, to destroy the source of those bitter feelings tormenting her soul.

As I hear Frau’s steps, I run into the next room and lay down there, on the carpet. I close my eyes. I hear Richard jumping off the couch and going somewhere to lay down and pretend that he’s sleeping too.

Frau calls us; it’s dinner time. I hear the others thumping and jumping. I don’t have to; I walk slowly, patiently. I’m the biggest; I’ll have the bigger dish. I always do.

When I make my appearance, they all move aside, lowering their bodies submissively, and making room for me. They know that if they don’t I’ll just bite them, indiscriminately, especially today, as I’m upset for being punished.

Other times, after I finish my meal, whether I’m still hungry or not, I chase away one of them to have his leftovers too, just to show them who’s in charge here.

Today, though, I finish the food in my bowl and then leave the kitchen. I go into the lounge and lay down on the carpet, near the couch where Frau is sitting. I know that on the coffee table in front of the couch is the box containing the sweet treasure. But Frau doesn’t seem to have any intention to open it; Frau is smoking one of those things – a long, white, slim cigarette, that smells of menthol. Another strange thing humans do!

I sense that Frau is sad, so sad, too sad to open the box to indulge in one of the few things Frau really enjoys in this life.

Another thing Frau enjoys doing is to sit at the huge wooden box and caress its keys with her fingers, making it sing, all those pure and lulling sounds – Frau works magic and I love watching her doing that. Frau has all those things that do stuff, emit all sorts of sounds, flicker and flash, they are all like magic, but nothing charms me like the huge wooden music box. It’s like in those moments Frau actually speaks to the world, to us, to whoever wants to listen to what she has to say. Those are the only moments Frau lets the world know of her thoughts and feelings.

Not today, though. Today Frau sits on the couch, her glance lost somewhere afar, through the big openings in the walls of the house, to the darkening cloudy sky. It’s about to start raining, I sense its wet scent.

I hear the others finishing their meals and coming in the room. They each find a place for themselves, laying down there, on the floor, around the couch. We are all waiting. We pretend to try to relax after dinner, but, in fact, we’re all focused, waiting for the moment when we’ll hear the ripping sound of the plastic wrapper around the box on the coffee table. But Frau doesn’t do anything, Frau wouldn’t even look at the wall with pictures; it would sadden her even more. Richard makes an attempt to sneak near Frau, on the couch, but Frau pushes him away with a gentle gesture.

Humans think we’re stupid. Humans are so busy making all those useless noises. If they’d be quiet for just one second they’d hear and they would know more. They’d hear all those things they think pets like us don’t know.

I heard some talking about Frau, saying that a long time ago the army man in the pictures used to be Frau. Or that Frau used to be that man. This is one, if not the main thing, why they hate Frau so much.

Humans are so busy emitting sounds through their mouths so they can’t hear what their hearts and souls are speaking. If they’d be quiet for a bit they could learn how full of care and love Frau’s soul is. They’d notice Frau’s gentle hands as those hands caress and heal. They would, if they wouldn’t be so busy talking about how Frau’s own family is ashamed of her or how Frau’s own children denied her.

~ To Be Continued ~
- 26
- 27
- 28
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KAAMOS (A Tale For Grown-up Kids)