07/14/2021
Chizza
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Forests covered with smoke patina
Klausi Kotzwald moved to England a few years ago and since no one could pronounce his name, they called him Cotswold. Anyway, every few years he travelled back to his home in Aicha vorm Wald in Bavaria to visit his now elderly parents. Now he sat handcuffed in a police van. The parents both murdered. The bloody knife was covered with Klausi's DNA. Next to him a still perplexed inspector Wensker. Accompanied by the two buffoons Schubert and Haller, who scalded each other's crotch today in the local bakery when they poured vice versa very hot coffee into each other's loins as a joke. Wensker now had to find out the truth before Polli Polumna from the local cheese paper opened up and the news spread through the village. But what was that smell, anyway? Later this smell then stylised into a scent would be called Cotswold but let's stay in the here and now.
"Ok, Mr. Kotzwald....what smells so good here, like burnt wood with vanilla? And also, did you kill your parents? Brought them over the Jordan? Knifed them?"
"What do you think you're doing? Of course no! I was baking. I had already scraped out the vanilla. Suddenly my oak board was on fire and that smoke, I must have ingested it."
"Smells really good. Ok but let's get to the 50 knife stabs."
"Slipped while scraping out a vanilla bean, that was an accident."
"Fifty times?"
"What can I say? I'm a bit of a klutz."
With that, Klausi Kotzwald laughed mischievously.
"Ok...don't you think you kind of smell like singed pine needles too?"
"Oh, that's because I use them to garnish my roasted meats, I kind of like the roasted flavors."
Wensker stood up wordlessly and gathered His thoughts. Could such a thug really have accidentally committed this act? Just like that, out of the blue? He smelled good, granted. That melange of smoky wood, the little addition of vanilla that made the scent seem aromatic. The man smelled like a wooden hut, years old, always very well maintained but still not hiding the age. Madness! But he digressed. It was about the murder, after all. What would Kojak do now? Or Inspector Drebin? Bingo! "Mr. Wensker?"
Wensker was snapped out of his thoughts. "Yes please?"
"Take a look at this."
The men stared at the screen and actually saw Klausi Cotswold accidentally slip permanently and apparently it ran in the family. The parents were constantly shooting themselves in the knife again like in a bad clown show.
"Should we release him?"
"No. He has to stay a little longer because of his scent."
So Wensker noted to himself the mellowing of the scent. The slight withdrawal of smoke to allow room for green sprinkles. The vanilla, which almost offered the little too much, but then always walked on the border, but did not cross it. Or on the knife's edge, as Wensker jokingly thought. An aromatic ride, in which the forest was clearly visible, but at the same time not because of the smouldering fire. It wasn't burning, it was smoking. The cones and needles took on a dirty patina of smoke. Beautiful, he thought. He was going to ask Wool if he could create something for perfume. And they'd call it Cotswold. Everyone would think of the English countryside, but no one of Klausi Kotzwald. Ingenious, Wensker thought.
"Ok, Mr. Kotzwald....what smells so good here, like burnt wood with vanilla? And also, did you kill your parents? Brought them over the Jordan? Knifed them?"
"What do you think you're doing? Of course no! I was baking. I had already scraped out the vanilla. Suddenly my oak board was on fire and that smoke, I must have ingested it."
"Smells really good. Ok but let's get to the 50 knife stabs."
"Slipped while scraping out a vanilla bean, that was an accident."
"Fifty times?"
"What can I say? I'm a bit of a klutz."
With that, Klausi Kotzwald laughed mischievously.
"Ok...don't you think you kind of smell like singed pine needles too?"
"Oh, that's because I use them to garnish my roasted meats, I kind of like the roasted flavors."
Wensker stood up wordlessly and gathered His thoughts. Could such a thug really have accidentally committed this act? Just like that, out of the blue? He smelled good, granted. That melange of smoky wood, the little addition of vanilla that made the scent seem aromatic. The man smelled like a wooden hut, years old, always very well maintained but still not hiding the age. Madness! But he digressed. It was about the murder, after all. What would Kojak do now? Or Inspector Drebin? Bingo! "Mr. Wensker?"
Wensker was snapped out of his thoughts. "Yes please?"
"Take a look at this."
The men stared at the screen and actually saw Klausi Cotswold accidentally slip permanently and apparently it ran in the family. The parents were constantly shooting themselves in the knife again like in a bad clown show.
"Should we release him?"
"No. He has to stay a little longer because of his scent."
So Wensker noted to himself the mellowing of the scent. The slight withdrawal of smoke to allow room for green sprinkles. The vanilla, which almost offered the little too much, but then always walked on the border, but did not cross it. Or on the knife's edge, as Wensker jokingly thought. An aromatic ride, in which the forest was clearly visible, but at the same time not because of the smouldering fire. It wasn't burning, it was smoking. The cones and needles took on a dirty patina of smoke. Beautiful, he thought. He was going to ask Wool if he could create something for perfume. And they'd call it Cotswold. Everyone would think of the English countryside, but no one of Klausi Kotzwald. Ingenious, Wensker thought.
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