Sander's Courage Read online

  "Bertha Moon?"

  "Yep!" Sander grinned. "That's her real name." So I

  took the bait and asked him to tell me the story of Ole

  Montgomery Hansen and Bertha Moon.

  "Bertha was this really rich lady and her husband

  had died," Sander began. "Uncle Ole heard that Bertha

  Moon was going to Jylland to stay with her sister, so he

  decided to be a burglar to her house."

  "Tell him about the dog!" Jannik insisted.

  "I will! Hold on!" Sander laughed. "So, he breaks

  into her house and he takes a lot of things—expensive

  candleholders, some jewels, a television, and some meat

  from her ice chest..."

  "Meat?"

  "Yes! Steaks and some chickens and bacon..."

  "It likes he goes to the supermarket!" Jannik added.

  "So now he have two big problems," Sander

  continued. "He gots all of this stuff, but he don't ever

  think about how he carries it home."

  "What was the other problem?" I asked.

  "The dog!" Jannik exclaimed.

  "Yes, the dog," Sander said. "So he comes from her

  bedroom and he meets her big, huge mastiff. That dog was

  bigger than he was."

  "So what happened?"

  "Well, that dog was usual a really mean dog, and

  anybody else that dog would have ate up. But not Ole!"

  Sander said.

  "Did he give it some of the meat, or something?"

  "No!" Jannik chimed in. "It was all of it freezed! If

  he even want to, he can't because it was like ice, all of it!"

  Sander explained that Ole simply made friends

  with the massive canine, "Like Ole always do with

  everybody! You will think that dog was his from a puppy."

  Sander continued. "So now he has to leave with all of his

  loot, but what's he to do?"

  "Tell him about the wagon!" Jannik laughed.

  "So he finds a child's wagon in Bertha's garden; a

  big one with wood around it, you know? And he puts all

  of the loot in the wagon and heads to the door. But now

  the dog want to go with him!" Sander told me. "So he gets

  the idea, and he get a rope from the clothes hanger out in

  the garden and makes a—uh, I don't know what it's called,

  but they put them on horses around their nose..."

  "A bridle," I said.

  "Yes! And then he hook it to the wagon and start to

  walk home with the dog pulling the wagon of loot. And he

  think nobody will say anything about a funny looking man

  with a mastiff who pulls a child's wagon full of candlestick

  holders!" Sander said.

  "Wow..."

  "Just... Wow!" Jannik agreed.

  Ingrid described how the police rolled up behind

  Ole and his new canine accomplice, and started to get out

  of their car to question him. "That dog growled at the

  policemen and then barked at them and made a run to get

  at them."

  "Yes! And when he turns around, everything falls

  out of the wagon, and it tips over and now the dog is

  dragging the wagon and making mean faces to the police,"

  Sander laughed. "So they run back into their car and it is

  like from that movie, Cujo! The dog is making slobber all

  over the windows, and there's no way he gonna let the

  cops to get Ole!"

  "So what happened?"

  Jannik stood up and started acting out the story. He

  cupped his hand like a loudspeaker and in a deep, official-

  sounding voice said, "Ole! You must make your dog mind

  his manners! Tell your dog to sit down and shut up or

  there will be hell to pay!" Then came the funny part: Jannik

  said the police were so flummoxed by Ole and the dog,

  that they just gave up and told him to meet them at the

  police station in an hour. Then they drove away.

  "So the next day Ole is in the court with the judge.

  He admit everything, and of course they have called

  Bertha Moon and she is there too. She look at Ole right in

  the eyes, real mean, and she want him to go to the prison

  forever. She say they shall throw away the key! But when

  it came time for Ole to say why he do it, he make her feel

  very sorry for him. And she say to forget it, and next day

  he is home again!"

  "I can't believe it!" I exclaimed. "No way!"

  "Oh, but you don't hear the end yet!" Sander

  continued. "A week after he is out of the jail she call him

  on the telephone and ask for him to go out for drinks with

  her!"

  "NO!"

  "I promise! Yes! And then six month after they get

  married and she become Mrs. Hansen Number Four,"

  Sander said. I glanced over at Magda and Niels in

  complete disbelief.

  "So now you've met my brother, and your future

  Aunt Bertha," Niels chuckled. "And maybe he will make it

  to your wedding, or maybe not. Depending on what he

  gets up to around Christmas."

  "I think that's his biggest working time," added

  Ingrid. "And you know, we always liked the presents he

  got us when we were little kids, but now I wonder how

  many children believed that Santa Claus forgot about them

  when they have nothing waiting under their Christmas

  trees!" Ingrid laughed.

  "Every family has an Uncle Ole," I said.

  "I don't know, Ole's more one-of-a-kind than what

  most families have, I think," Magda declared. "I know I

  always count the forks and spoons before he goes home."

  "So that's Uncle Ole," Sander said.

  "And for Christmas I ask him for a radio control

  car!" added Jannik. "It's cheap! It will just cost him three

  month in the prison! He shall get it for me, I think."

  We erupted in laughter and enjoyed each other

  well past the dessert and the coffees. The aroma of the

  coffee took me back to that first morning Sander stopped

  at my apartment. He was looking for his school mate,

  Georg. Then my friends, Emil and Jonas, arrived with

  fresh rolls and Danishes. I was chided by my buddies for

  not having any coffee brewing, so Sander and Georg made

  a run to the corner bodega and picked up a couple kilos of

  the stuff.

  Sander reached for my hand and held it while we

  all wound down from the wonderful time spent together

  on that wet night. By the time we were ready to leave, little

  Jannik wore a sleepy face, and Sander had moved our

  entwined fingers to a certain American's crotch. Some

  things never change. They'd better not!

  Chapter 3

  e stayed the night in Sander's old room at the

  family home. This was the exact room where he'd

  W lost his virginity with some guy named Anders.

  Weird.

  Jannik got it in his head that he was going to camp

  out with us, and we didn't mind. We shanghaied Ingrid

  into a game of Cards Against Humanity, and had a blast as

  the rain pelted the skylight overhead.

  "You has to answer the question whit the truth,

  okay?" Jannik demanded. "If you don't, it will be the music

  that you face!"

  "Kiss my big white butt," Sander replied.

  "That is for him to do, not me, asshole!" Jannikr />
  laughed, tossing a stray domino at me.

  "You sound like silly children," Ingrid said. "Are we

  to play, or not?"

  Ingrid was the one who had pooped last—

  yes, that's how you determine who starts the game—so she

  drew a black card that said, and I quote, "If you can't

  handle__________,

  you'd

  better

  stay

  away

  from__________." So who won the first round? Jannik,

  with his white card answers: "If you can't handle Moses

  gargling Jesus's balls while Mohammed and the Buddha

  penetrate his divine hand holes, you'd better stay away from

  poorly timed Holocaust jokes."

  The fun went on for a couple of hours and ended

  when Sander won with, "When all else fails, I can always

  masturbate to Grandpa's ashes. " Gross as that image is, I

  guess it's better than jacking off to poorly timed Holocaust

  jokes. Yep! Cards Against Humanity: Fun for three lunatic

  Danes and one sick-in-the-head American!

  "I don't want to sleep!" Jannik grumbled. "I don't go

  to the school tomorrow, and you say I can come over to

  your house at the weekend. It's the weekend!"

  "I did not say that, you little criminal!" Sander

  protested. "You make it up!"

  "I did not make it up! You say I can come and that

  you takes me for to watch a film at Café Biografen. This is

  what you say!"

  "Nej, nej lille bror..."

  "Yes!"

  "Nope!"

  "Du er bare en liggende løgner, der konstant ligger ud af

  dit liggende løgner hul!" Jannik shouted. Since they were

  bouncing back and forth between English and Danish, I'd

  missed what Jannik had said to his brother. Whatever it

  was, Ingrid completely lost it, laughing hysterically at the

  little guy.

  "Boy, he's hot under the collar! What'd he say?" I

  asked.

  "He says to me," Sander answered, "You are just a

  lying liar that constantly lies out of your lying liar hole!"

  "God, Pokey, a classic has just been born! That's the

  funniest fucking description-expression-talking—er, uh,

  yelling point—I think I've ever heard in my whole life! Well

  done, Jannik!"

  "See! Johnnie say I can go, right Johnnie?"

  "I got no problem with it."

  "But... You know..." Sander said, pleading. Oh! I get

  it now... Sander wanted to make sure that nothing would

  get in the way of... you know.

  "You did promise him," Ingrid said. "I heard you."

  "Okay. I know when I'm beat. You can come,"

  Sander smiled. "But you have to do what I say, and you

  can't always ask Johnnie for everything, because you know

  he is a weakling and will always say yes to you. Got it?"

  "Hey!" I objected.

  "Oh, Johnnie, for fuck sake you know it's true.

  Don't lie out of your lying liar hole," Sander scolded me

  with a grin. "Admit your weakness!"

  "Whatever."

  A LITTLE WHILE LATER we were snuggled up on the big

  and comfy mattress on the floor. Looking up at the

  skylight, I saw the large beam across the ceiling where

  Sander had once wrapped the rope he'd intended to use to

  end his young life. He was having a bad time—he had

  been cruelly outed, and his classmates had turned on him.

  And the boy he was in love with broke his heart and

  declared that he wanted nothing more to do with him. If

  Jannik hadn't found him and gone for help, I wouldn't be

  here lying beside him.

  He turned and faced me with his cute I want sex

  now face. Hey, who was I to refuse those big blue eyes?

  "On your mark," I said, "get set... Go!"

  He grabbed my package and made a circular

  motion which brought it to full attention in no time at all.

  Then he switched hands and slowly started jacking my

  dick. He was already in the buff, so there were no

  interruptions caused by the kicking off of clothes. He does

  this thing where he stops and squeezes just under my head

  before he continues the upward motion. Then, as his hand

  glides downward, he puts perfect pressure on the head

  which sends me shivers. What a lover he is. The difficult

  part of having sex with Sander Lars Hansen is that you

  spend every second trying not to cum too fast—he's that

  good.

  Sometimes we go at it full bore. For hours on end

  we'll do every position and technique that the human male

  form can accommodate. Other times we'll just hold each

  other. Sometimes we just have a mutual jack-off session.

  We don't come to our bed with any preconceived, must-do

  checklists between us. We just each do what we need to do

  to please the other, and we find that it all works out. We

  have never had a bad sex session ever. I think it's because

  of the love and respect we genuinely feel for one another.

  Here's a funny one: I came at the same time that a

  big thunder roll boomed across the sky. It would have

  been poetic if it wasn't so damned funny—we both broke

  out in massive laughter.

  "Fuck! I must be pretty good, yes?" Sander joked.

  "I dunno, Pokey! Maybe it's the wrath of God

  warning us to change our wicked homo ways. He might

  make it fall off. Then what would you do?"

  "Go to the bodega and buy some Crazy Glue, what

  do you think I shall do?" he laughed.

  "I love you, fuckhead."

  "Jeg elsker kun dig for altid," he said, which means

  that he loves me always. Hearing it said in his language

  was so beautiful and, well, it made me feel special. Soon

  after, we fell asleep as the rain continued its rhythmic

  dance above our heads.

  THE NEXT MORNING WE HEARD SLOW, clumsy steps

  coming up the steep wooden staircase. The door creaked

  open, revealing a pair of little hands loaded to the gills

  with bowls, spoons, a box of cereal, and a jug of milk.

  "Shine and rise because the breakfast boy is here,"

  Jannik announced, kicking the door closed with the back of

  his foot. "I bring energy for my brothers who takes me for

  this weekend!"

  "It shall take more than cereal to keep up with you,

  I think," Sander said.

  "Good morning brother number one; good morning

  brother number two."

  "Good morning slave! Give me my breakfast or

  your head goes rolling down the stairs," Sander teased.

  "I kick your ass and wipe you off my shoe before

  you can do this, I promise! Here, eat if you know what's

  best for you. You too, Johnnie Rocket!" Jannik said, setting

  up a little breakfast campground around our bed. "You

  shall get yours first, Johnnie, because Sander from Randers

  will eat a whole box of this in one time. This I have seen! I

  calls him the cereal killer."

  "Aaaggghhh! Now who gots the lying liar hole?"

  "Not me! You eat up all the cereal and you drink all

  of the Cokes, and you know that you do, so give it up."

  "So that's where all the Cokes go," I said. "Now it

  all makes sense!"


  "You both can go to Sweden where they might care.

  I'm having my breakfast," Sander smiled. "And then we'll

  see where the day takes us, yes?"

  "Yes!" Jannik exclaimed with delight. For him this

  was big, being able to have a boys' weekend out with his

  brothers—and that's exactly how he saw me; I was just

  another part of his family. And he felt secure in our

  company, knowing how much we both loved him. Of

  course, that was nothing he ever could or would admit to,

  but then that's part of being a brother—everything can be

  left unsaid, because why say what you already know?

  "What will we do today, brother? Have you some

  ideas?" Jannik began.

  "Well, cowboy, I thought maybe you can figure all

  of that out and then we'll see what will happen," Sander

  said. "You got any ideas, Johnnie Bond?"

  "I'm just the chauffer! I'm happy with anything.

  What do you wanna do, Jan?"

  "Well..."

  "Yes?"

  "Well..." Jannik repeated.

  " Okay, we're listening," Sander smiled.

  "Can we go to the duty free shopping center in

  Flensborg because..."

  "Get this! He wants to go to Germany!"

  "Listen...listen! I want to buy some Legos because

  they is cheaper there than here. It piss me off when we

  make Legos in Danmark, but I has to buy them from the

  Germans to save almost thirty percent. Pokey, don't you

  see? I has to have Legos!" Jannik pleaded.

  "Why can't you be like a normal kid and play

  Minecraft or buy violent video games , for helvede!" Sander

  asked. "And don't ask Johnnie because you know he will

  only say yes."

  The room went still except for the sound of the

  steady wind outside. No one said a thing. Sander just

  quietly worked on his bowl of cereal. I just stared at the

  Danish stand-off. After about a minute of this silliness,

  Jannik broke the silence.

  "Johnnie?"

  "Yes, Jannik?"

  "Has you ever go to Germany before?"

  "Hey! What I tell you?" Sander exclaimed.

  "I don't ask him if we can go to Germany, King

  Majesty Sander! I only ask him if he ever go there before!"

  "Bet you didn't know we have a lawyer in the

  family," Sander sighed. "Sometimes you can be too much,

  Jannik Hansen. Even for me."

  "Okay..."

  THE DRIVE TO GERMANY took a little over three hours,

  and since it was a Friday before a major football match, the

  car park was jammed with duty free beer buyers; some