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I am sure there is a special circle in hell reserved those who begrudge others their triumphs and exploits, those who would subject a beloved figure to callous and cruel beatings simply because he has garnered many plaques and awards, and made sweet fuck with the wives of lesser men. But this is a side issue, for I am here today to talk about transportation.

On the outskirts of the small village of my birth - my father, a widower, was a simple shop owner and bootblack who nevertheless raised me in a home of culture and refinement - there was a railroad that rambled along the riverbank, carrying great men between cities of culture and commerce. As a child, I could not have known that one day I too would travel in the first class berths of that railroad (although I suspected it - and you can imagine the emotions I felt when, years later, I rolled once again through the little village, watching the familiar rooftops and the church steeple glide past, as I ate a fine fish off of a china plate and made bawdy sex palaver with the wife of a politician). One summer's day, when I was still a school boy, I was walking along this river with my acolytes, when we saw the railroad screech to a halt with engine trouble. It took nearly two hours for the engineers to fix the mechanical defect. But in the meantime I had persuaded my young followers to help me disconnect the rear dining car from the body of the train. The result was, when the train finally groaned to life and lurched forward to continue its journey, the dining car was left behind, stranded by the riverbank in rainstorm. A man wearing high fashion clothes with a large mustache was marooned alone in that dining car, with a carafe of wine and a gourmet fish, and I will never forget the sport we made of kicking a ball repeatedly against the train window, behind which this diner sat shaking and growing red with rage. With such successes I established my reputation even at a young age, and though I was later beaten quite mercilessly as punishment, it was worth it.

Date Written: July 12, 2004
Author: Kruger
Average Vote: 3.4286

Comments:
07/16/2004 Benny Maniacs (4): Handsome writing, in a John Stamos kind of way. I thought we were going to get a little more palavering in there though. But I guess it was about a train, and I'll judge it accordingly: an inventive (two stars), well written short (two stars) about a kid kicking balls against railroad cars (no stars for or against).
07/16/2004 Stash (3): well written, but the first tasty paragraph left me wanting more of the same. i got a little sleepy reading the rest.
07/16/2004 Will Disney (4):
07/16/2004 Ferucio P. Chhretan (3): Oh, you damn kids.
07/19/2004 John Slocum (3): "But this is a side issue, for I am here today to talk about transportation." Great line, although this is my least favorite of the Kruger series.
07/19/2004 scoop: I'm almost willing to give Lew... I mean Kruger a 4 on the strength of that transportaition line alone...but something arcane about my upbringing is preventing me from doing so.
07/26/2004 Mr. Pony (5): For some reason, the fact of Kruger's imprisonment continues to pay off. It could be that I'm in a mood -- "...a gourmet fish..." made me laugh. Still. I like getting to know this Kruger. Four and a half.
07/26/2004 qualcomm (2): 2, not for the short itself, which is a 3, but for continuing the kruger kronicles in serial, and because the high ratings are giving me cancer.
07/26/2004 scoop: Sorry about your cancer.
07/26/2004 Mr. Pony: Yeah, wait, are do you have cancer or don't you? Can you be "in the process of contracting cancer"? I have to look this up.
07/26/2004 qualcomm: it's giving me stomach cancer. i can feel it growing.