Fritz in Rosenheim

Rupprecht Mayer

Translated by Eldon Reishus

Fritz had lived almost his entire life in Dingolfing. So that explains why he drove to Rosenheim for a couple of days to reconsider everything. Already the smell in the Pension Wassermann stairwell was supremely suggestive. Frau Becker, the owner/manager, had not yet modernized the dining room breakfast format to offer self-service. Instead each guest was allotted two breakfast rolls, sliced meats and cheeses, etc., with seconds available at no additional charge. At 8:30 Fritz stared down at his untouched dippy egg in a yellow egg cup with green polka dots. Of his breakfast buns there was nothing left to be seen. Herr Wieninger, said Frau Becker, who for the past minute or so had been standing directly over her guest – I just watched you with your dirty fingernails tear apart your breakfast rolls most ferociously, like a werewolf I dare say, dear Herr Wieninger, to gobble them down without butter or condiment, although never has a guest complained of my marmalade, and then, Herr Wieninger, watched your formidable tongue lick the scattered bread flakes from my table cloth, and I haven't a clue, Herr Wieninger, as to what such a spectacle possibly has to say. Breadcrumbs you call them in Rosenheim my dear Frau Wasserman, breadcrumbs. No, I am Frau Becker. You have a most formidable tongue, Herr Wieninger, that much I must grant you. Be that as it may, for our guests reconsidering everything, we recommend that they take a slow walk through our morning streets. There are not so terribly many—fifty-two to be exact. For lunch we urge that they choose the Golden Oxen, which is run, by the way, by my brother-in-law. Afterwards, they may repair to their rooms to continue their reflections, or to take naps—the afternoon is theirs to enjoy as they presume. Should you find some want has gone unsatisfied, Herr Wieninger, just stick out your tongue to let me know. Fritz's gaze had not yet left his dippy egg. Had these people been expecting him? He asked himself whether Rosenheim was indeed the right choice.

Author Portrait

Rupprecht Mayer was born in 1946 near Salzburg, Austria. After living some 20 years in Taiwan, Beijing, and Shanghai, he resettled in SE Bavaria. He translates Chinese literature and writes short prose. English versions appeared in AGNI Online, Connotations, DecomP, Flash (UK), Flash Frontier (NZ), Lunch Ticket, Mad Hatters' Review, New World Writing, Ninth Letter, Portland Review, Postcard Shorts, Right Hand Pointing, The Newer York, Watershed Review, Word Riot, and elsewhere. Visit his website here:


Eldon (Craig) Reishus lives beneath the Alps outside Munich (Landkreis Bad Tölz - Wolfratshausen). He’s an old school Exquisite Corpse contributor with recent work forthcoming at Fiction Southeast, theEEEL, Apocrypha and Abstractions, Maudlin House, Pidgeonholes Mag, and Poetry Fix. A German-English translator and an all-around web and print media pro, he originates from Fort Smith, Arkansas.