The Naked Nazi

By the time she had finished typing up the statement on her brand new Olivetti typewriter, Vadgy was incandescent with rage. Emma’s story was almost identical to Titsy’s.

Emma was a young, beautiful but somewhat naïve girl. She had met Oliver at a local bar. He sweet talked her. He bought her a Brandy Alexander. They talked about everything; his favourite film “The Way We Were”, his favourite album “Tapestry” by Carole King. He was every girl’s dream come true…or so it seemed.

In the dim light of the White Swallow Cocktail Bar, with Sly and the Family Stone playing in the background and the scent of Jovan Musk hanging heavily in the air any girl could get a little giddy. When Oliver asked Emma back to his bachelor pad she said 'no' at first.

“My last relationship started just like this. She came back to my place” he said. Oliver looked away wistfully. “But she’s gone now”. A tear rolled down his rugged cheek. Emma could not have known that “she” was Titsy.

“What happened to her?” Emma asked sympathetically. “I’d rather not talk about it” Oliver replied “It’s just too painful.”

“Well, maybe I could come back to your place for one drink” Emma offered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with pity for him. And so they left the White Swallow.

As Oliver opened the door to his apartment Emma was struck by a strange stench. “What is that terrible smell?” she thought to herself. He closed the heavy door behind her.

“Who’s there?” a voice called from the den. “It’s just me Ross” Oliver replied. “My room mate” Oliver said. “Oh, for some reason I thought you lived alone” Emma said nervously. She suddenly felt very uncomfortable. “Let me introduce you” Oliver suggested and they walked down the wood paneled corridor to the den.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. There he sat on the rug, in the centre of the room, naked. He was a small man, small in many ways. His salt and pepper hair was cut brutally short. His pince nez glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. The floor was filled with objects of every shape and size; strange badges, military wear, swords and guns. In his hand he held a brass eagle with a swastika emblazoned across it.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Ross said as he lifted his prized possession up for Emma to see. “Um, yes, it’s very nice” she replied. “Third Reich, highly collectable. Only a dozen of these in the world you know' said Ross lovingly.

Emma suddenly realised what she was looking at. “Yes, Ross collects Nazi shit” said Oliver. “It’s Third Reich Memorabilia, Cain!” Ross shot back. “Whatever,” said Cain, “it’s still shit”. “Well, it’s worth a lot of money and I like it” said Ross. “Well maybe you should sell a couple of pieces and buy yourself a pair of jocks dude” Oliver said laughingly.

Emma backed out of the den, suddenly wondering if she had made a huge mistake coming here. “That’s nothing” said Cain, “the bastard’s got a tattoo of a swastika on his backside!” “No! Really?” Emma said. “Why do you live with him? He seems a bit odd”. “Oh I met him through friends years ago, he’s completely alone, nowhere to go so I told him he could stay with me for a while”.

Emma was disturbed. “Look, I think I should leave” she said timidly. “Really, it’s been nice but I must go”. “You’re not going anywhere” Oliver replied, his voice suddenly dark and threatening. Emma knew in that instant that she was in trouble, deep trouble.