Het slipje

 

Ik ben op weg naar de drumwinkel. M’n bruine krullende haren waaien door de wind. Op weg naar de drumwinkel, zie ik het huis van mijn vriendin. Ik kijk door het raam en zie haar staan. Haar raam staat ietsje open. ‘Maartje!’, roep ik. Ze ziet me niet. ‘Maartje!’ Ze ziet me nog niet. ‘Maartje!’

‘Oh, hey’, zegt ze met enige verbazing.

Ik loop om naar de deur van het appartementencomplex die open staat en loop de betonnen trap op en wacht tot Maartje daar de deur open voor me doet.

‘Heeey’, zegt Maartje.

‘Heeey’, zeg ik. ‘Wat zie je er mooi uit’, zeg ik.

‘Oh dit’, zegt Maartje.

Ik loop de gang in, richting het appartement van Maartje.

‘Het is wel een zooitje hoor’, zegt ze.

‘Het ruikt lekker’, zeg ik.

‘Vind je?’, zegt Maartje.

Maartjes appartement is klein. Er staat in een ruimte een keuken, een kledingkast, een kast, een eenpersoonsbed en een eettafel met stoelen. Ze heeft nog net ruimte voor een stoeltje met een klein rond tafeltje. Ik ga op die stoel zitten, naast de was die midden in de kamer staat. Maartje gaat tegenover me zitten op het bed.

‘Heb je thee?’

‘Ja’, zegt Maartje en loopt naar het aanrecht om de waterkoker aan te zetten. Daarna gaat ze weer op bed zitten.

Ze vertelt me over haar vriend.

‘Nou wat ie laatst deed, vond ik echt niet leuk…’

Na een tijdje vraag ik: ‘krijg ik nog thee?’

‘Oh, ja natuurlijk’, zegt ze met een schaamtevolle lach.

Ze schenkt thee voor ons in terwijl ze door gaat met praten.

‘Wat voor thee heb je?’

Ze lijkt me niet te horen.

Ze stopt theezakjes in het hete water en ik ruik dat het heel kruidig is.

‘Oh, dat is wel heel kruidig he’, zeg ik, ‘ik weet niet of ik dat wel lekker vind’.

‘Oh’, zegt ze, ‘het is hele lekkere thee’.

Ik pak mijn kopje thee en zet het op de ronde tafel naast mij en kijk naar de was voor mij. Wat een boel slipjes hangen eraan. Met kant in allerlei kleurtjes.

‘Wil je zo mee even een cadeau halen?’, vraagt Maartje.

‘Ja, is goed’, zeg ik, ‘ik wil ook nog even bij de drumwinkel kijken’, zeg ik.

‘Ja, is goed’, zegt Maartje.

We trekken onze jassen aan en Maartje pakt een tas waar een mooie gouden uitstekende ronde sluiting op zit.

Ik loop de gang in en sta bij de deur bovenaan de trap te wachten. Dan komt Maartje ook haar deur uitgelopen.

Ik begin keihard te lachen. Zo hard, dat ik op de grond ga zitten en niet meer bijkom. De tranen staan in m’n ogen.

‘Wat is er?’, vraagt Maartje en kijkt om zich heen.

Ik kan niks uitbrengen en lach alleen maar. Zal ik het haar vertellen?

‘Hahahahahaha!’

‘Wat is er?’, vraagt Maartje.

‘Hahahahahaha!’

‘Zo heb ik je nog nooit gezien’, zegt ze.

‘Er hangt een slipje aan je tas’, zeg ik.

‘Oh’, zegt ze. Ik zat nog te kijken of ik m’n jas in m’n broek had gedaan ofzo’.

‘Hahaha! Ik twijfelde nog of ik ’t je zou zeggen, maar ik zou je niet zo naar buiten laten gaan’, zeg ik.

‘Nou dat is maar goed ook’.

‘Hahahaha!’

‘Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha’, en Maartje doet mijn lach na.

Daarna gaan we samen naar de drumwinkel, zonder slipje.

Waardeer

Een knuffel
Een lach
Een kopje van de kat
Een gedicht voor mij
Een foto van ons allebei

Het water langs m’n lijf
De eerste slok thee
De glinstering op zee
Het briesje koude lucht
Een warme zomerzucht

Een compliment
Andermans talent
Dansen, in de muziek opgaan

Dingen die ik waarderen kan

The little trumpet monsters

 

Once upon a time there were little monsters. They had trumpets as ears and big oranges for bums. They were green. But if they felt a certain way, their colour would change.

These little monsters lived together. They grew to certain customs. Like touching each others noses as a greeting. Sometimes they would touch each others trumpets, but that gave a lot of noise, so that didn’t happen often. Sometimes it just happened by accident.

The little monsters all had beautiful bums out of oranges. They were nice and fruity. Juicy maybe even, but you couldn’t eat them. All the little monsters looked the same. Only their colour would change if they felt sad, angry, ashamed, shy or very happy. Glitter, confetti or dust could come out of their trumpets. Sometimes a puff would come out of it. The even smaller monsters, the baby monsters, were just like the little monsters, only their colour wasn’t fully developed. They would turn yellow, blue and eventually green.

These little monsters lived harmoniously together. They weren’t with much. They were with just enough, so that everybody would know everybody. They lived on a planet called Jubilitus. On this planet there was enough room for everybody. They could feel the sunlight. They had water and beautiful plants. Just big enough for the little monsters. There would be numerous flowers, small bushes, tiny trees and exotic plants everywhere. There were hills, just big enough for the little monsters to climb from time to time to enjoy the view.

The little monsters didn’t live long and so there would always be a few amount of them. If they ever would get angry, sad or scared, they would know how to deal wit hit. They would touch each others noses, twirl, look into each others eyes, do a chant: OI EE RAAA, jump and then smile at each other. It was just the way to deal with things. And no one was ever alone. They even all slept together, so they would never be lonely.

Sometimes when the mood was just right they would make music with their trumpet ears. It wouldn’t sound too good, but they would all get their spirits up and enjoy it. But they would only do this late at night in the bushes. One day one of the baby monsters asked to one of the bigger monsters: ‘Why can’t we all make music in the sunlight by the water? It would be great!’

‘Well, let me tell you this young monster,’ the bigger monster said, ‘there is a myth that once a thousand years ago when we were all sitting by the big blue lake enjoying the sun, that one baby monster started playing his trumpet and that the others first were a little shocked  by all this noise this little one could make, but soon joined. Not much later something appeared from the sky with a very loud screech and snatched so many of us away. According to the legend only a few of the little ones got away and that’s why were are all still here today.’.

‘Oh’, said the little one and looked at the bigger one. ‘But it would be really nice to play the trumpet out in the sun.’.

‘Well Orello, we don’t want to get snatched away? Do we now?’, and looked deeply into the little ones eyes.

‘No, Fuelta’, said the little one and he looked down.

‘Come on, let’s enjoy tonight. You can play the trumpet now’, said Fuelta.

And so the little one joined the bigger one and played his trumpet. He couldn’t play both at the same time, but most of the time he went for the one on the left side of his head.

Orello dreamed about the sun that night and playing the trumpet by the big blue lake. The next day Orello woke up with the sunlight wondering several things. Who was this snatcher? Was the myth true? And a thousand years ago, if the snatcher existed, would it still?

Days went by, weeks, months and every time the little one would sit at night with the others and would look at everyone playing their trumpets, Orello wasn’t so happy. His colour would turn blue and everyone noticed. So whoever was sitting next to him would touch his nose, twirl, do a chant: OI EY RAAA, jump and then it was oké. But not for long, for every time they would play their trumpets at night the little one would turn blue.

One day Orello was sitting on top of a hill and looked at how far the big blue lake stretched. It was huge. How come the lake is so huge, the little one thought and scratched his ear. It caused his trumpet to make a noise and the noise echoed all the way over the big blue lake.

Orello looked around, but no one was there. Orello scratched his ear again and the noise that his trumpet made was so loud you could see the vibration of the sound on the water. It caused the water to ripple all over the big blue lake.

Wow, the little one thought and started to play a song. Orello felt so happy. The little one hadn’t felt this happy in months. But the happiness didn’t last long. Out of the sky he could see something huge coming it’s way.

‘Oh no’, he thought. The snatcher!

As this huge thing only came closer and closer, the little one would get more frightened and turned purple. It wasn’t the best colour for hiding. But Orello found a rock and hid behind it. He thought it might be safer behind the rock, but soon the snatcher grabbed the little one and held Orello high up in the sky close to it’s face.

The snatcher looked at the baby monster, held it to it’s ear, waited and when no sound came, held it in front of it’s face again.

The little one looked at the snatcher and decided he had only one option: I have to touch it’s big nose. Orello reached and reached and finally was able to touch it’s nose. Suddenly there was a blast and out of Orello’s trumpets came confetti and glitters. Orello turned into the colours of the rainbow. The snatcher let Orello go and the little one landed in the big blue lake. Orello swam out of the lake and when the little monster got to the sand, huffing and puffing, all yellow again, he saw that the snatcher disappeared.

The little monsters never had to fear the snatcher ever again and they lived in harmony. And Orello, well Orello would play the trumpet whenever he had the chance!