Onze Taal. Jaargang 75

[p. 210]

Is 'r verse big present?
'n Sage met drama en spelling-plot

Justus van Oel

Storm, pad, gang: er zijn veel Nederlandse woorden die ook moeiteloos de Engelse spellingchecker passeren. Justus van Oel schreef een tekst met alleen maar van dat soort woorden.

'n Half dove pastor (protestants) in Made, Holland, had 'n gave big: intelligent, fit en met name vet. 't Was winter. December. 'n Beer van 'n vent in shorts en met rode helm reed hard met 'n step door Made. Kin in de wind en 't water over de rug. Plots spot de trimmer 'n villa. Even rust! Ring, ring. De man belt en belt. De pastor, warm van nature, deed hem open. ‘Help me, vent, want de training was 'n ramp door storm en mist. Blubber over 't frame, grind en pollen in de trappers. Acute spit, last van de milt. En 't was glad in 't park, plots lag 'n boom over 't pad, arm total loss door de slip, links is de pees van de pink half door, been open van lies tot lies, 'n drama. En 't Chinese restaurant van Made is pure shit. Man van 't land, even happen, trek, absolute trek. Is 'r paling? Haring? Rib-eye? Of big! Is 'r verse big present?’

De pastor was 'n moment in de war. Had die sport-held 'n driest plan, was die rare race 'n list van 'n violent type, 'n gangster of rover? De trimmer had de hand van de pastor vast. 't Leek de pastor 'n man van rang en stand, blank, 'n brave burger met best 'n net accent. ‘Loop de gang door. De big is in de hut.’ Even later, in de hut, bond de man de big vast met 'n rubber band. De big was heel bang en deed wilder en wilder.

'n Perfect diner

‘Die big is best vet. Top! Keel die big, vent, of ram hem rot met 'n plank of knots of whatever. Sleep hem van de hut over 't pad de gang in. Leg die baby in bad, week 'm in warm water en poets door tot de big van top tot teen proper is. Doe 'n spies door de pens, begin links in de flank, via de long, door 't hart en exit, hang 'm in de grill en rooster hem tot 't vet smelt. Leg de pens breed open, week de body in rode port, met grove worst en ham van 't been. Stop 'm in de oven met 'n peer in de navel, met look - die look met mate. Doe de lever van de big apart in 'n pan, en wok die’, beet de rare man de pastor toe, met 'n bits air in de stem.

Brute orders, en de brave pastor deed 't. Want 't punt is: de pastor was arm. De pastor wrong de spies in de anus van de big. De big was in de stress, beet de pastor hard in de hand. De pastor was plots 'n man in last en bitter over 't lot van de big. ‘Die big redden? Last van smart en wee? Bullshit, pastor! Slap, slap! Word hard, stamp die big knock-out, ram 't spit door die pens, 't nut van 'n big is cashflow!’ Rake en ware lessen: de pastor beet toe.

De trimmer mat met 'n pocketlint de big, die qua volume exact in de oven paste, en deed 't gore part van de job, in 't begin met 'n messing trap-roe die in de gang lag, en tot slot met 'n cricket-bat (de pastor was reeds decennia erelid van 'n eliteclub in Best). De finishing touch was perfect. De big lag slap over de arm van de pastor. Star en wit waste de pastor de big, paste de diverse tips van de trimmer toe en even later was de big 'n perfect diner. De trimmer at met verve, elk ding, tot slot loom de pan legend met 'n lap brood.

Amen

Toe was 'r cake en kiwi met honing-drop, verse room en 'n liter whiskey. De pastor had plots cash, en 'n hoop, de telling was top. 'n Moment later was 't over. Want 't lot van de big was minder. Heel rot. De rest van de big, elf en 'n half pond plus 'n pot met vet, deed de pastor in plastic dozen. De rare trimmer, 'n extreme drinker, lag in de WC half over de pot met 'n complete black-out. De pastor deed hem in bed.

Later bad de pastor, in de put, tot God. Hard, heel hard, want de half dove pastor had best last van die handicap. ‘Here God, u tone die big respect, ware God, die rooms is, protestants en orthodox, doe in Made 'n wonder: u beware de big, de complete big, tot later. En gun 'm rust, Here God, want die big was OK, amen.’