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Jens Oliver

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Member Since: Nov, 2008

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10 Minutes Of Living
By Jens Oliver
Monday, November 17, 2008

Rated "G" by the Author.

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This story is about ten minutes in a boy's life as it could happen almost at each place on the world.

10 minutes of living


Jens Oliver Dorough Newton


"Jens?" it reverberated inquiringly through the house.

No answer.

"J E N S." The calling voice became more forceful.

No answer.


An answer.

"I'm surfing , Mooom. Still a minute."
"No minute."
"Ewww, Mooom..."

The mother stood in the hall at the door by the kitchen below and looked anxiously to the stairway across. Above, she could hear an amused giggle.

"I don't know what gives laughing there, Jens." she shouted.

Under the roof, a door slammed droping into the door lock. The clattering of two feet hiked the stairways down. Always four steps all at once, Jens jumped loudly the stairways down. He always did this so and everyone knew that it could be only him.

"You can't go down the stairway normally, huh? Just like each normal person?" Jens was welcomed by his mother. He got a closer grinning.
"You said: IMMEDIATELY." Jens answered, his mother's voice imitating.

She kept closed the ears.

"I don't even cried, son." she complained.
"You have." Jens dissented.

He earned a damning gaze for it. However, Jens was distant far from being intimidated by it. He knew these gazes and died already thousand times, when Mom's gazes killed him.

His mother scrutinized him from above until below. She sighed. Jens had grown once again. He became ever more similar for his father. Big, a pire blond tousled, carelessly lion-mane and this big, blue, interrogative eyes. If Jens looked at her with this gaze, she could simply not be mad at him.
At least for some moments.

She pointed toward the kitchen. There, two garbage-bags stood around. "You promised to take it away." she said strictly.
Jens looked curiously at her, fixed the garbage-bags in the kitchen and said: "They don't move, huh? I was in the hurry this morning. We had school. Remember?"

Annoyed he faced his mothers.
However she also acted unimpressed.

"Your school starts at nine o'clock. You would have had enough time to bring the bags to the front."
"I slept." Jens said and looked, as this necessity would come over him again.
"Uhhh. There we go again. So why you have to be so late at your computer into the night." his mother pointed out to him.

Jens looked indignant at her. "I worked on our Comanga with Orashio. That is the time just where we can do something similar."

Orashio is Jens' American cousin. Until their seventh year, both lived together until Jens' mother went back to Germany. Since also his American father wanted to come to Europe, the family now had moved here. Jens however missed his grand-aunt's full house in California. And of course Orashio, his cousin, who looked similarly like Jens.

She tolerated Jens sometimes sat very long at the computer after midnight where he worked on those Comanga-Stories with his cousin because his work really hadn't suffered from in the school. But sure, he although could be even much better of course.

"Would Sir Jens possibly become for himself to it now comfortable, carrying the bags out of the house?" the mother asked her son urgently.
"Must that be? Now... immediately?" Jens asked.
His mother could't he asked that way.
"Immediately. If I now let you go back upward, the bags stop eternally here."
"They don't disturb me. However, the kitchen is big."

The mother counted internally until ten.

"But me." she said as bitingly as a Rottweiler, who barked at a stranger in his territory, in order to scare away him.
Also now, Jens twitched with no muscle.
"You always are in your study, however, anyway." Jens said and squinted shortly to the cycle opposite to, that led into the side building, where his mother and his stepfather had their common office. "And there you have also a kitchen."
"Simply bring out the two bags, okay? I don't have the nerves to discuss about sense and nonsense of the whereabouts of these garbage-bags in the kitchen with you for hours."

There, life came in Jens.
He knew this sound.
He nothing feared more, as this.
He only nodded, entered the kitchen and hoisted the two garbage-bags. Under his mother's watchful gazes, he left the house with them.

Jens feared nothing more, as one of these conversations with his mother. Other children got impositions, cell phone-prohibition, computer-prohibition or would grounded for a certain time if they had employed something and so, but Jens Mom took to always talk the time about his offence for itself to her son. Hours-long. Jens hated this equally as if a girl called him sweet. And if his mother out-turned the professor, it became dangerous. Life-threatening.

He left the house and strolled the swung way at through along the green area to the cypress-sterns, where the way divided. He took the direction to the carport, where the big trashcan stood in its encircling wall.
His best friend Ishan came towards him. Jens (who held the two garbage-bags firmly in the hands and let them dangle back and forth, in fact stretching out his arms, imaging himself to be a Chinese water-bearer, dragging on with difficulty through the paddies staggering with his cargo from village to village) noticed him.

"What do you want here?" he asked.

Ishan stopped in the height of the carport and called: "Maybe ... we still wanted to work on the story, huh?"

Sure, Jens knew this. He had waited already for Ishan, that was the third party in the federation about the comanga-work periods, anyway. Ishan could draw Mangas better than Jens. Even better, he could fill the balloons with the right text.

"A've forgotten." Jens said and grinned.
"Yes...", Ishan spoke with a sound, that meant, that Jens could not fool him. Jens loved ridiculing people. He didn't stop even on his best friend.
It lasted not even four minutes until the garbage-bags had vanished in the big garbage-container.

"Hello." a girls voice sounded. Two girls came along.
The two boys immediately took their heads around.
"Hi. Wuzzup? How's going?" Jens asked and facing the girls. He knew the one. She lived the street above and the other seemed to be her friend.
"Quite good. And you?" the girl asked smiles.

Jens put his arm on Ishans shoulder and leaned like Mister Cool himself against his buddy. He waved just as with his right hand and said quite cool: "Ye. Same so."

The girls continued, said goodbye and vanished from the view of the two boys - whispering and giggling.  The boys went to the corner of the high hedge of the right site of driveway to the front and squinted curiously according to the girls.

"They are so sweeet." they heard the one girl, who only had giggled, saying.
"A'm cool, not sweet." Jens grumbled, but like Ishan he watched the girls going with interest. Then, they went back to the house.

Gabbing about the girls.

       Web Site: Ten Minutes of Living

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Reviewed by m j hollingshead 11/21/2008
enjoyed the read

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