White Niggers
Chapter 7
Friday, August 2nd, 2019, 16:30
Karl-Gunsam-Gasse 1, 11th district of Vienna
Timur is standing in front of the table behind which Marik and Riml-Löhr are wolfing down the prosciutto di Parma pizza that smells of dry-cured ham.
Riml-Löhr looks like he wants to make up in gluttony what he missed in fornication. On the table, Timur notices a newspaper with a frontline article about the all-you-can-screw brothel.
"This pizza is great," Marik says.
Riml-Löhr, technically an aristocrat, let his inner Prolet out. He is smacking loudly. His cheeks bulge from too much food in his mouth.
After a couple of moments Timur notices the naked women in the pool. Marik sees that.
"You want some?" Marik says.
He points at the pool.
"Nah, I'm good," Timur says.
Riml-Löhr finishes chewing.
"Why not?" Riml-Löhr says. "Consider it a tip."
Riml-Löhr loosens his belt.
"Your pizza is so good, you can take two girls," Superstrizzi says.
He is eating another piece of pizza Timur just delivered.
"I'm good, thank you," Timur says.
"I still don't understand, why not?" Riml-Löhr says.
"Allah doesn't approve of this," Timur says. "Also, I gotta deliver pizza to other clients."
"Customer service über alles," Marik says.
Marik and Superstrizzi laugh. Riml-Löhr doesn't. He has an intense stare on his face. His mind and his stomach are in a tug-of-war over energy, the latter winning.
"Allah, you say," Riml-Löhr says.
He belches.
"Sorry," Riml-Löhr says. "Where are you from?"
"Caucasus," Timur says. "Chechnya."
"Well, that explains everything," Riml-Löhr says.
He stands up and hands him thirty Euros.
"At least take some money. That's the tip," Riml-Löhr says. "He will give you the payment for the pizza."
Riml-Löhr points at Superstrizzi.
"No, thanks. I don't want the tip and you can keep your money," Timur says. "Consider it a gift from our house."
Riml-Löhr's face starts to get red.
"But why not?" Riml-Löhr says. "You don't look like you can throw around hundreds of Euros."
"That's dirty money," Timur says. "Can't accept it."
Marik is laughing so hard he almost chokes himself on the pizza. But he cannot contain himself, and tries to explain something with gestures and pantomime.
Riml-Löhr gets even redder, but says nothing.
"Is everything okay? Can I leave?" Timur says to Superstrizzi.
"Sure, leave," Superstrizzi says.
Marik finishes eating his pizza and laughs out loudly.
"That trick he played on you is priceless," Marik says. "Allah. Dirty money. He's quite a character, isn't he?"
"I won't forget," Riml-Löhr says.