LPB
There’s a faint sound coming from a thick green mist. The sound of wood scraping over pedals. It’s approaching. The contours are starting to become visible. A tire, a handlebar, a headlight, a completely orange outfit.
I steer my bicycle through the curtain of weed smoke and barely manage to avoid cycling tourists doing anything but paying attention.
I’m feeling dapper today, swerving past these canals on my Dutch rod. The orange suit came fresh from the cleaners and goes along nicely with these brand new Balenciaga clugs.
I pass by the Anne Frank House, the Dam Square, Heineken breweries and a ton of coffeeshops. I almost forgot that Amsterdam perfectly resembles everything there is to know about this country.
After eating a stroopwafel I buy some milk and cheese, talk my alien language and complain about the prices, the weather and the fact that there’s nothing more I can complain about. I compliment my fellow inhabitants on being tall and ride off to a neighbourhood I had never heard of before.
A joyous place full of pretty red lights and scarcely dressed women being nothing but kind. Some even invite me over to hang out for a bit. I just can’t believe that I’ve never visited before. Such a worry free place full of happiness. I should come here more often.
From the busy city center I make my way to the perfectly flat landscape. I pass by fields filled with tulips of all colours. The blades on a windmill rotate to the sound of the national anthem. Tall, blonde girls whistle at me from behind the cows that they’re milking. It’s all music to my ears.
I continue cycling on. I hear my chauvinistic heart pounding with pride. Sweat is trickling down my cheeks whilst I’m braving the wind.
From afar a farmer shouts a joke about Germans at me, his wife shouts that “Ol peeple in de Nedderlands speek so good Inglis”. I want to reply, but in the distance I see a disaster on the verge of commencing.
There’s water spurting through a hole in a sort of hill. My country is in danger.
I furiously cycle towards the soon to be catastrophe, jump off my bike and do what every born patriot would do. I sacrifice myself to save the nation.
I put my finger in the dyke and smile. It’s not even Friday yet.
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Hahaha! Good one Hansje!