Post by Joe on Nov 30, 2012 12:30:50 GMT -5
With the 79th anniversary of the evening pending, on which a simple cardboard shoebox began its rise to subsequent fame and claim its rightful place in the annals of criminal history and jurisprudence, it is only "fitting" to hear the entire story, (with an appropriate touch of seasonal levity) hereto untold...
Richard Hauptmann has arranged to host what will eventually come to be known as a “going-going-gone” soiree for good friend and business associate, Isidor Fisch. Fisch, clever fox that he is, has reasoned ahead of time, “I will take this generic container of fifteen thousand dollars in annoying gold certificates with me tonight and perhaps my good friend Richard will be kind enough to look after it while I’m visiting in the Fatherland.”
Later at the party, Isidor prepares to hand over the box but knowing he owes Richard seven large, is beginning to have second thoughts about relinquishing his grasp upon the object of his true affection. And he is somewhat reluctant to tell his friend what’s actually in the box, lest Richard decides to subtract sieben from funfzehn. In truth, the erstwhile fur trader is also somewhat distracted by the veritable gaggle of attractive, healthy and round-bosomed frauleins at this evening's celebration.
Alright, now here’s where Kloppy comes in...
Hans Kloppenburg, who’s sporting a very festive Kris Kringle beard this evening, had earlier been summoned into the hallway by Richard. He had been instructed to ensure he was witness to any possible shoebox transfers for the evening, in a discreet and courteous manner. Hans and Richard, the very best of friends have known for years they could always depend on one another. On cue, Hans begins to wander around serenading one and all with his guitar, stealing a little glimpse here and there, waiting for that precise moment in which Fisch has successfully delivered the package. He has also been charged with the task of ensuring to note not only the precise time, but the colour of Richard’s tie, for any potential subsequent testimony.
Unfortunately, with the importance of this mission weighing heavily upon his mind, Hans who would normally be considered a genuinely understated kind of fellow, has dutifully poured nine Lowenbraus down the hatch, since appearing to have come out of the fireplace just under an hour previously. And so marks the beginning of one rather calamitous but never-tiresome scene after another, in which Kloppy in his finest Bavarian baritone, is heard to continually boom out over the background milieu, “MEIN FREUND! DID YOU GOTTIT YET, DAS SHOEBOX?”
After countless, similar responses to the contrary and certainly at wit’s end, Richard finally resorts to grabbing the swaying Hans by the collar, “NEIN, DUMMKOPF! BUT I GOTTIT DAS LINDENBERGEN SHOEBOX VER JOU!” He then pulls out his miniature 7-shot Liliput, with the intention of pistol-whipping his best friend, but after only fanning Kloppy’s face for a few seconds, opens his hand, revealing to one and all that… “Meine Gute!”.. the gun has now disappeared from evidence!
A large, collective gasp from the assembled partygoers creates a sudden vacuum effect, which in turn snuffs out the Christmas tree candles and snatches the shoebox out of the hands of one fresh Fisch. A hush then falls over the confused throng of revelers, who just moments before, had been laughing and pointing to the same candles as they flickered in resonance to Kloppy’s cannonading shouts.
At this very moment, hostess Anna, who has done her best to remain on top of things, walks into the kitchen backwards, so as not to see the impending arrival of shoebox, just as the hauptmann of the house, still somewhat off-balance from his earlier antics and in one deft motion, receives the airborne footwear container, parrying it neatly onto the top shelf of the broom closet. “Who is Lili?” is Anna’s polite but firm question to her startled husband.
As the door to the broom closet swings closed, eagle-eyed Fisch suddenly spies Anna’s soap coupons and also notices the small ongoing water leak down the outside of the ventilation pipe within. For the rest of the evening, he is on cloud nine, dancing, drinking and chatting with the ladies, knowing that when he returns to America the following spring, he will have $15,000 in laundered US currency with which to begin a new life.
HANS KLOPPENBURG, OR THE GOLD CERTS
By Joe
Richard Hauptmann has arranged to host what will eventually come to be known as a “going-going-gone” soiree for good friend and business associate, Isidor Fisch. Fisch, clever fox that he is, has reasoned ahead of time, “I will take this generic container of fifteen thousand dollars in annoying gold certificates with me tonight and perhaps my good friend Richard will be kind enough to look after it while I’m visiting in the Fatherland.”
Later at the party, Isidor prepares to hand over the box but knowing he owes Richard seven large, is beginning to have second thoughts about relinquishing his grasp upon the object of his true affection. And he is somewhat reluctant to tell his friend what’s actually in the box, lest Richard decides to subtract sieben from funfzehn. In truth, the erstwhile fur trader is also somewhat distracted by the veritable gaggle of attractive, healthy and round-bosomed frauleins at this evening's celebration.
Alright, now here’s where Kloppy comes in...
Hans Kloppenburg, who’s sporting a very festive Kris Kringle beard this evening, had earlier been summoned into the hallway by Richard. He had been instructed to ensure he was witness to any possible shoebox transfers for the evening, in a discreet and courteous manner. Hans and Richard, the very best of friends have known for years they could always depend on one another. On cue, Hans begins to wander around serenading one and all with his guitar, stealing a little glimpse here and there, waiting for that precise moment in which Fisch has successfully delivered the package. He has also been charged with the task of ensuring to note not only the precise time, but the colour of Richard’s tie, for any potential subsequent testimony.
Unfortunately, with the importance of this mission weighing heavily upon his mind, Hans who would normally be considered a genuinely understated kind of fellow, has dutifully poured nine Lowenbraus down the hatch, since appearing to have come out of the fireplace just under an hour previously. And so marks the beginning of one rather calamitous but never-tiresome scene after another, in which Kloppy in his finest Bavarian baritone, is heard to continually boom out over the background milieu, “MEIN FREUND! DID YOU GOTTIT YET, DAS SHOEBOX?”
After countless, similar responses to the contrary and certainly at wit’s end, Richard finally resorts to grabbing the swaying Hans by the collar, “NEIN, DUMMKOPF! BUT I GOTTIT DAS LINDENBERGEN SHOEBOX VER JOU!” He then pulls out his miniature 7-shot Liliput, with the intention of pistol-whipping his best friend, but after only fanning Kloppy’s face for a few seconds, opens his hand, revealing to one and all that… “Meine Gute!”.. the gun has now disappeared from evidence!
A large, collective gasp from the assembled partygoers creates a sudden vacuum effect, which in turn snuffs out the Christmas tree candles and snatches the shoebox out of the hands of one fresh Fisch. A hush then falls over the confused throng of revelers, who just moments before, had been laughing and pointing to the same candles as they flickered in resonance to Kloppy’s cannonading shouts.
At this very moment, hostess Anna, who has done her best to remain on top of things, walks into the kitchen backwards, so as not to see the impending arrival of shoebox, just as the hauptmann of the house, still somewhat off-balance from his earlier antics and in one deft motion, receives the airborne footwear container, parrying it neatly onto the top shelf of the broom closet. “Who is Lili?” is Anna’s polite but firm question to her startled husband.
As the door to the broom closet swings closed, eagle-eyed Fisch suddenly spies Anna’s soap coupons and also notices the small ongoing water leak down the outside of the ventilation pipe within. For the rest of the evening, he is on cloud nine, dancing, drinking and chatting with the ladies, knowing that when he returns to America the following spring, he will have $15,000 in laundered US currency with which to begin a new life.
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