The Pilgrim

artwork by Steven Joseph Osuchowski

by Eric Pahel

My flight had landed, and after a short detainment to determine the nature of my stay and check for any past associations which may have implicated me in some past deviance, I was permitted to continue. While they were unable to find any suspicious associations, they were not happy with my stated purpose, which was that I was here to explore their concentration camps hoping to understand the destruction which God’s creations are capable of. I also explained that I worked for Jews and that this trip was in no way sponsored by them. I also explained that I was not there on work related matters.

I also made clear that if I had voted, it would have been for Obama.

I made my way to an inn on the northwest outskirts of Dachau. It was of wood and stucco. I ordered a liter of Marzen from a busty German woman in a milking outfit. When she brought me a beer, I said Danke. I sat at the bar and looked through a travel brochure on the concentration camp. I couldn’t decide if I was going to purchase the mp3 guided tour. It was the first concentration camp built by the Germans, and it was also one of the the first liberated. This became a model for all German camps that followed. The first commandant was promoted to oversee all concentration camps. Americans, following the war at home, were horrified at the images coming from Dachau. After the Americans liberated the camp, American GIs went into a blood-lust of vengeance and killed about 100 of the guards as they tried to surrender their posts. Charges were filed and then dismissed after Patton took control of the area.

Next to me, a man in a black turtleneck and an gray overcoat saw the brochure and began to ask questions.

“Is this your first trip to Dachau?” asked the man.

“You speak English?” I replied.

“Yes, most Germans are trilingual. We also speak French. We are players on the world stage. Internationalism is important to us. I saw your brochure and assumed that English was your native tongue.”

“I’m an American from Baltimore. Here to tour you concentration camps. I also want to go on record by saying that I really like what you have done with the passive house. Very smart.”

“By the way, my name is Claus. Actually, the concentration camps really don’t belong to me, and for that matter, neither does the passive house. But we Germans are known for our engineering.”

“Cool, my grandfather was taught to be an engineer by an immigrant Jew back in the 30’s.”

“So, why are you interested in our concentration camps?”

“Its like this. Genocide still exists. One race is still attached to the idea that their race is so superior to another race, and they have such certainty in this conviction that they commit some of the most inhumane and brutal acts against this marginalized race. People say that we have learned the lesson of the Holocaust, but I just don’t see it. Also you guys are still a socialist government. It doesn’t seem like you guys have really put the idea of progress through social engineering to bed. I will say that I am a fan of the prime minister. I think she is rather handsome for a woman of her years.”

“Somehow, I am both offended by you and sympathetic to your cause. It was a dark period in history. One best forgotten. Please enjoy your beer and your stay.”

“Guten natch.”

“Sie, bitte.”

“I said good night. My German is really bad. I may have an accent.”

I sat there and continued to drink my beer, and then I ordered another.

“Wie geht es dir?”

“Ich habe viel zu tun gehabt? And du?”

“Viel zu tun gehabt fur de Uni. Wie heist du?”

“Grete. Und du?

“Jack Baur. Bist du mit jermandem zusammen?”

“Ich bin witver.”

“Es tut mir led. Spechen sie English.”

“Yes, a little.”

I have not taken the time to describe myself, but most would consider me handsome. Yet with a strangeness of look about me. Much like William Defoe, but I look nothing like William Defoe. I am broader of shoulders and features. I look excessively American. I also have brown hair. “So you’re a widow?”

“Yes, my husband died three years ago. I still don’t know what happened. He worked for the government and died an unremarkable death. I never saw the body. It was cremated. The explanation makes sense if I don’t think about it too much. We wanted to have children, but it never seemed like the right time. Now, I work here. Sometimes when somebody has too much to drink and starts to sing songs of Mother Germany, I still miss him.”

“It must be hard.”

“Well, you meet a lot of different people in a place like this, and it helps you forget.”

“I want to comfort you.”

We talked some more, and I helped her put the chairs on the tables after the inn closed. I really enjoyed watching her mop the floor in her milkmaid outfit. I watched her push the mop away and pull the mop back. I watch her churn the bucket of mop water like a butter churn. I wanted cheese. After she was done mopping, we went up to my room where she held me in her strong arms and called me her little strudel. I continue to be amazed by how easy German girls are.

I woke up the next morning and Greta was still in my arms. We exchanged pleasantries and said our goodbyes. I promised to write, so I am.

I had only seen images of Dachau, and I didn’t know quite what to expect. I saw the images of bodies stacked like cords of wood. Images of naked skeletons sitting cross-legged by their bunks. I remember images of ovens and somebody trying to crawl out of one. I saw survivors rummaging through clothing, an evergreen forest in the background.

The first thing I noticed upon arriving was the condition of the grounds. There was an almost Teutonic formality in the layout of the grounds. Everything was symmetrical and balanced; evergreen hedges, shade trees, stone walkways, and even the layout of buildings. All in proportion. The place was built for 6,000 prisoners, but there had been over 30,000 interned there at one time. The experience seemed distant. I already knew the facts. I observed. The grounds were in excellent condition. I saw the bathroom. I saw the iron gate. I saw the room where the prisoners were processed. I took the official government tour. They showed us how they isolated the crematorium from the rest of the complex.They told us how access was restricted to a privileged few. I looked at the interpretive kiosks with historical photos which I have already studied. I already knew the facts. I was searching for what was behind the facts.

Did I find what I was looking for? What does it really matter? If I found what I was looking for would it change my story? How would I be able to describe it? If I was careful maybe I could tell you what it wasn’t, but there are no words to express what I may or may not have seen.

I left Dachau for Berlin. I arrived that evening by train. I checked in to the hotel, cleaned up and went to a bar on the industrial side of town. I wanted to visit the ruins of past leaders and regimes. I wanted to see the offices and the bureaucracy behind the genocide and national glorification. I sat down at a bar which had shades of black and gray, metal and glass. I ordered a pilzs. Claus entered and sat next to me. He was dressed as before, except his clothes seemed more fitted. His lines seemed cleaner, and I am certain that he now wore his part on the other side of his carefully coiffed hair.

“Funny seeing you again.”

“Well, I wanted to find out how your sightseeing went. Did you find what you were looking for? Did you satisfy your curiosity?” asked Claus.

“ I don’t really know how to answer that. Have you been following me?”

“Only at a distance. We are trying to determine if you are a threat to our government?”

“What have you determined?”

“I haven’t made any determinations. You aren’t as forthcoming with information as you were last night.”

“I didn’t know I was being interrogated last night.”

“You certainly can’t be held accountable for things that you did when you where unaware. All I can say is that every interaction that you have with the government has raised our level of curiosity. We are not ready to charge you with any crimes or conspiracies, but this really isn’t a legal matter. Let’s consider this off the official record. We have learned our lessons. We are no longer so meticulous in our book keeping. There are sections of the government that don’t know we exist.”

“What is the next step in this process?”

“It all depends upon you. There are still many ways this could unfold. I will say that cooperation is in your best interest.”

“What would you like me to do?”

“My only request is that you accompany me to a performance. When the performance is over, you should be free to go. Right now, I only ask for a few hours of your time.”

We left the bar, Claus led me to his BMW. I sat next to him and we drove to an industrial section of what was once East Berlin. We exchanged a few pleasantries on our drive, but mostly I watched the street lights reflected in the puddles.

We arrived at a warehouse, and Claus opened the door with a key. A guy in a suit met us inside the door, and they talked briefly in German. I think I heard my last name. They were speaking a foreign tongue quickly, and I was a bit nervous, so I was unable to understand any of the conversation. Their tone of voice was polite and professional. We walked a little further down the hall, and I was led to a room with a claw foot tub. There were doors on both sides of the tub, and people stood mingling in small groups around the perimeter of the room. Inside the tub was a guy naked, who looked just like Rush Limbaugh. A man asked for our attention. The room became still, and three ex-presidential impersonators came out to pee all over him.

Reagan finished first, and then Nixon. Bush the younger, thanks to healthy prostrate was able to continue his yellow stream the longest. In each of their right hands they had a can of Budweiser. The ex-presidents parted to make way for a Dick Cheney impersonator. He was dressed in leather with a whip across his lap. He used his right hand to work a joystick that controlled his electric wheel chair. He maneuvered to the side of the tub and reached in his pockets. He then put clips on Rush’s nipples. Rush winced in both pain and pleasure.

Next Cheney picked up the whip and began to prod the fat man’s genitals. He then whipped his dick with three sharp blows. Rush cried out in ecstasy. As Dick continued to abuse Rush, a Condoleezza Rice look alike entered in a purple velvet robe. She disrobed and squatted over Rush’s mouth. Condie began to grunt. A turd was being extruded into Limbaugh’s mouth. He opened wide, and when the turd touched the back of his throat he took a bite, and like the scat muncher he is, he began to chew. He swallowed once and let out a groan-sigh. What look liked watery yellowed cottage cheese oozed from his semiflaccid cock. The show was over and Claus led him to the second act.

I followed Claus to a room and took a seat next to him, on one of the three couches that covered the walls of the room. In the center of the room was a mattress. Next to the mattress and against the rear wall was a nightstand with a lamp with an eerily translucent lampshade. Brightly colored bottles of lubricant sat next to the lamp. A sybian was placed in front of the mattress, and the wall behind the bed was covered with dildos of various sizes, materials, shapes, and colors. All the walls and furniture were white. The only color in the room was from the dildos and lubricants. The other people on the couch were men, who were naked except for leather shorts and shoulder holsters. They were all armed. Two tall tanned blond women with Brazilian waxes entered the room. They wore nothing but clear acrylic fuck-me heels. The went to the bed and began petting and licking each other. The people on the couches were chatting. After watching one girl shove a dildo the size of a billy club into her vagina, I asked Claus what was the point of this display.

“The point is to control our interests. Some of these people kill for us. Some specialize in interrogation and intelligence gathering. If you examine the underside of things. You can learn a lot. After all, isn’t observing the dark side of humanity your stated purpose. Understand there are things that we need to protect. There are people that want to hurt us and disrupt our way of life. You have your ways of protecting the public, and we have ours. This is a traveling circus of sorts. It will be gone by tomorrow and you will not be able to find any evidence it ever existed.”

“So why are you showing me this?”

“Some people are easier to control than others. Some take threats more seriously than others. Most of humanity can easily be controlled with fear and money. Some people see through that. It is those people who need to be reminded that this isn’t a game. There are some things which are bigger than the individual. We do not want you to become a destabilizing influence, so we have made you a guest at our little theater. There is more to see. Please follow me.”

I followed Claus out of the room down a corridor. He passed by an open door and watched a women performing fellatio on an ape. A small crowd gathered to observe this act. They watched as the ape contentedly groomed the girls hair for insects.

At the end of the hall we entered a small theater. The stage was lit by both foot lights and a spot light. At the rear of the stage were two crosses. One had a naked man shackled to it and the other had a naked woman shackled. Both subjects looked to be of German descent. They were both tall, toned, blond, and they had blue eyes. Then an Asian lady-boy in leather wearing high boots with stilettos came out. She/he had a riding crop in one hand. Between the two crosses sat a car battery attached to a cattle prod. I watched him/her torment the man’s genitals.

“Bist du in Ordnung?”

“Bitte, hilf mir.” replied the shackled man.

On the other side was a sturdily built dwarf. He also was dressed in leather, but he had more chrome on his outfit. He wore an SS hat. He stood in front of the women. He alternated between cunnilingus and whacking her labia major with a riding crop. The sound of the crop produced a sharp slapping sound heard brightly in the back of the theater. She had tears in her eyes, and mucus running down her face. Wagner played on the stereo.

Meanwhile the Asian lady-boy put down the cattle prod and inserted a syringe into a large purple vein on the guys dick. She/he pushed the plunger and the dick became hard. The purple vein pulsed in the spotlight. The man cried in pain and frustration. The Asian lady-boy put down the cattle prod and unchained the man, who fell limp in his/her arms. She/he gave him a slap to the face and turned him around so that his rear faced the audience. His wrists were shackled lower, forcing him to bend at the waist. The lady boy then put two fingers in a jar and then inserted them into his rectum. She then
inserted two more fingers from the other hand and forcibly stretched the orifice while the man howled in pain. .After few minutes, she removed her fingers and inserted her Asian masculinity, forcibly thrusting from the waist and epeating, “wie gehts?”

Then the German dwarf spread the woman’s legs wide. Her body took the shape of an X. He then squeezed lubrication on both hands and crouched under the waiting female. He inserted one hand into her vagina and used the other to sodomize her ass. The upward force lifted her slightly off the ground while she howled obscenities.

Other acts followed, as I dispassionately watched both the show and the audience. Some shouted words of encouragement. Some were outraged, and others sat dispassionately void of any emotional response. Some were fully dressed, and others were in various stages of undress. Some carried guns, some had clubs, and some were unarmed.

After the show was over, Claus spoke to me.

”As I explained earlier, some of the people here are killers, and some are play actors. Some are observers. Do not assume that the abused are the play actors. A few here know who is who, but most do not. By bringing you here, you have been compromised. You have seen a side of humanity which few have an opportunity to glance. Discretion is of the utmost importance. If you speak about what happened, or if you pursue that knowledge in a dangerous way, you will be quietly dealt with. This is the way of the world. Accept it and go about your life.”

“Do not think that I have been disillusioned. I have known for awhile just how badly people suck. I have already been liberated from the illusion of the selfless person. I do not need to protect myself from this theater, nor do I need to make sense of it. Human cruelty lies beyond explanation. However, I do understand that all violence comes from fear, so I will not be afraid. I will not have the mechanical reaction of outrage, nor will I be distracted by self-pity. Reality can only be experienced. I have no words to express or explain what I have seen in my journey. Labels are distractions. I want only to be able to stand in whatever situation that I find myself in without being blinded by fear or shame.”

“So what are your plans?”

“I have learned enough, and I am ready to return home. I do not have any plans. I do not know how I will react, or if I will react. Do you know what you you are left with after you remove the fear, desire,
clinging, anxiety, guilt, and craving?”

“What?”

“Joy. There is nothing wrong with reality. The problem is what stupid sleeping people add to it. Without us, creation would continue in all of its splendor and violence. Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life. Look at the birds of the air. Consider the lilies of the field.”

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