All Stories, General Fiction, Short Fiction

Hans By Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language.

Hans returned home from the pub.

He stomped up and down on the bare floorboards of his living room. He grinned as he thought about the neighbours moaning at the noise but never complaining.

Hans turned on the radio, it was more static than station. He settled down on his white painted kitchen chair that sat in the middle of the living room. It was cold. The wind whistled up through the floorboards. He pulled the collar of his donkey jacket higher and pulled his cap lower and then put his hands into his pockets. He shut his eyes to sleep.

Something woke him.

“Fucking cat.”

He looked at his watch and saw that it was two a.m. He smiled as he realised he only had eight hours before he was back in the pub.

Hans paced as he waited for the doors to open.

“Morning Hans.”

“You’re fucking late. I’m standing here freezing my balls off.”

“It’s just a minute past.”

“Fuck you! Pint!”

The barman poured him his drink and accepted the two pounds. There was no point arguing about the other one as that would have cost him a window.

Another regular came into the pub.

“Alright Al. Usual please.”

Hans pointed at his glass, “Fucking pint!!”

“Jesus, you better give him one as well. How you doing Hans?”

“Fuck off!”

“I see you’re your usual sunshine self.”

Hans began to stand. The man at the bar held up his hands, “Only joking. Make that a whisky for him as well.”

Hans sat back down.

Two strangers walked in and gave a generic ‘Hello’.

“Fuck off!”

“Jesus old yin, there’s no need for that.”

Hans stood.

The two men looked at each other and one shrugged, “Fuck sake. Sit down, we didn’t mean any harm. Barman, give the man whatever he is drinking.”

Hans sat when he saw the whisky and beer being poured.

The three men chatted as Hans glowered at them. They finished up their drinks and left.

“Soup!”

“…Okay Hans, just give me ten minutes.”

“Now!”

He undid his trouser buttons.

“Fuck! Tell you what Hans, how about I pour you another beer whilst you are waiting?”

He took his cock out, “I’m drinking a fucking whisky chaser, you fucking know that!”

“Jesus! Fine…A beer and a whisky whilst you are waiting for the soup.”

Hans put his cock away.

“Soup and a sandwich for Hans!!”

There was a quiet ‘Fuck sake’ from the kitchen.

“I want gammon.”

“I know.”

Hans had just finished his beer and was draining his whisky when Al brought his soup and sandwich over to him. He threw down two pounds, “Pint!”

No bother, I’ll bring it over.”

Hans dipped his sandwich into his soup.

“Are you enjoying that Hans?”

“Am I fuck, it’s shite!”

“I thought it might be. Sorry.”

The barman turned his attention to the racing that was on the TV.

The race had just finished when he was disturbed by a loud belch from Hans. He didn’t look round until he heard his chair move.

“See you again Hans.”

“Fuck you!”

Hans went into the toilet. Al knew he’d need to replace the toilet rolls that he’d take. He was thankful that he had given him the soup or there would have been a big shite waiting for him.

Hans returned home from the pub.

He stomped up and down the bare floorboards of his living room. He grinned as he thought about the neighbours moaning at the noise but never complaining.

Hans turned on the radio, it was more static than station. He settled down on his white painted kitchen chair that sat in the middle of the living room. It was cold. The wind whistled up through the floorboards. He pulled the collar of his donkey jacket higher and pulled his cap lower and then put his hands into his pockets. He shut his eyes to sleep. Hans smiled as he knew the cat wouldn’t annoy him.

He had only five hours to go before he went to the church for his dinner.

 

Hugh Cron

13 thoughts on “Hans By Hugh Cron – Warning – Strong Language.”

    1. Hi Darnell,
      It’s great to see you back on the site!
      Thanks so much for your time and your comments.
      All the very best my friend.
      Hugh

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  1. Hans is the man who lived in a local farmer’s barn. He had so many chips on his shoulders that he never went hungry. It’s like throwing a chicken leg from the BBQ to a hungry bear or wolf just to keep them away. This is, to me, a story about every man who has lost everything and finds solace in expressive anger – just for attention. We all suffer his pain, but wish he would go away. Good one Hugh.

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    1. Indeed, couldn’t have said it better myself James. They say there’s some good in every person, it’s often hard to find esp. among the bitter folk. Well, I guess Hans was good for the two pound he he.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Hi Harrison,
        As always, your comments are much appreciated.
        Finding the good in people depends on the people – Some are beyond the bother to look.
        All the very best my friend.
        Hugh

        Like

  2. Hans is very well drawn, but he ought to be quartered. The patience of the Saints! I went sniffing for clues as to why someone doesn’t “accidentally” add something contrary to the perpetual gift known as Hans. But I didn’t find anything until I examined the part about having to accept the two pounds or have it cost a window.
    This is very well done, but I’m still looking into it. Maybe I’m looking too close at it.
    LA

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    1. Hi Leila,
      Studying people is always fun as long as you don’t get too close. If you do, you end up buying them a pint!
      Thanks as always, your comments are much appreciated!
      Hugh

      Like

    1. Hi David,
      Thanks as always.
      I sort of hope the cat wasn’t a hands on situation and it would surprise him one night by running in front of him and tripping him up.
      All the very best my friend.
      Hugh

      Like

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