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Edwin Rommel

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About Edwin Rommel

  • Birthday 11/30/1958

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  1. Ach Herr Stanz-- been a terrible 2018-2020. Had to komme back to Sud Afrika in 2018 after Philippines kompany vhent bankrupt.... not been able to find vhork zhinze... but hangink in zhere unt plannink mein nachstes Vhorld Dominzaion Kampaing... You not kommink zhiz vhay zhometime?? Mein tooths dezperately needz vhork unt Ich haf no money fur it! 😔
  2. Ach Himmel-- zho he iz OK-- Ich vhoz a bit vhorried zhat zhe lazt V2 vhe zhent hiz vhay might haf aktually vhorked az dezined unt not intended.... Glad to hear it.... zhorry- haf to go .... vhe haf ein shoutink match mit zhe ANTIZA goink on....
  3. Harummmppfffffff--- Zhe Ekpnomick Kollapze kauzed by zhe Ami'z..... now vhe haf to be drivink zhe European Trucken Zimulatorz....
  4. Arrrgghh.... It livez!!! Katzenjammer!! Gif me zhum uf zhat injekzion az vhell!! Herr Raptor--- Mizzed you! (But ich haf more bullitz left to try!)! Zhame here- IL2 iz not EAW...... unt after zhum MSFS unt X-Plane 11 now drivink truckz fur ein livink... Haf guut vhon! ER
  5. Hrmmmfff--- not kwalifiet am I-- to be inkluded unt all --- Zho only zhe Ami'z are mizzed- vhe vhill korrekt zhat very kwiekly mit zum blitz Blitzkreig klever maneuvrez....
  6. Uf kourze-- need ein doorschtoppen right avay- mein Enigma ist erommel@iafrica.com- Danke Schon!
  7. As Rommel rounds the far corner of the lean-to shed behind the restaurant he is met by a strange sight— A small pile of bloodstained previously white clothes are in a neatly folded pile on the ground- next to it is a pair of bloodstained white plastic boots… Rommel rushes to the bubbling pot… A human head, with the lips pulled back in a silent scream slowly tumbles among the biling bubbles on the surface.. “Och mein Lieber….”
  8. The last rays of sun touches the Ramtops— Lobsang is sitting on the veranda – having a quiet cigarette before going in for supper… He is contemplating the events of the past few weeks— Making a decision, he gets up and walks to the procrastinator control room. He opens the door of the supervisors office… “Please fetch me the control records and personal procrastinator one Soren Fick- currently on a submarine called the “CSS Fishbait”- make it quick…” After a few minutes the supervisor returns, looking puzzled--- “It is not there sir??” “What??? How is that possible- I know for a fact that he is still alive- how can his procrastinator be gone?? Go look again” Ignoring the “No Smoking sign” Lobsang fishes in his robe for his cigarettes.. A micro-procrastinator is issued to the history monks at child birth and then placed in the vast time hall where it spins away on it’s little bearing- slower and faster as time progresses- some spin for long periods, others only briefly. When the personal time comes to an end, the procrastinator is removed by a monk and mailed to the department managed by the dispatchers. They in turn will then mail the procrastinator to the appropriate end outcome- the ones that has to be recycled (a bit of an administrative nightmare really) is sent back to the receiving department where they are re-introduced into the time hall, if there is space- otherwise they are squeezed into whatever life form has some unused capacity.. A whole religion developed around this- but that is a story for another day.. The system has been working flawlessly forever- until, it seems, till now… The personal procrastinator is sacrosanct- whoever controls it, literally holds your life and future in their hands. Monks are carefully screened for years before being allowed into the Time Hall- specifically for this reason. To lose a procrastinator is virtually impossible- unless… Lobsang tugs a bell-pull. Far away a soft tinkle sounds, followed by shuffling footsteps increasing in tempo and loudness as it approaches the door to the control room. The acolyte visibly pales as he sees the chairman rather than the normal supervisor… “Yes sir, chairman sir--- what may I do sir??” “Get me the security camera tapes for the past week- make it quick!” Lobsang kicks the perpetual motion generator wheel into motion, and after while the old CRT screen flickers and a grainy picture appears… After a while the acolyte re-appears with an armful of 8mm film canisters, which he loads into the tape drive in sequence and then nods towards Lobsang. Lobsang pushes a button--- and after a few seconds the inside of the time hall, boundary fences and several not so hidden nooks and crannies flickers onto the screen… Lobsang lights up a cigarette from the stub between his fingers and settles down to watch… supper forgotten…
  9. Ich schmell it uppen mit disdain unt shake mein finger at you in retaliazion!
  10. Ich did not vhont to zhay it firzt- but Dayhum ( (tm) Gunny) he iz zhat good.... unt zhe Donzter fart schtory-- iz juzt vhell bullcrap.... - nearly schmellz like it az vhell....
  11. Ach scheisse get him zhum Kevlar unt anti-deprezzantz Doktor Katezenjammer
  12. Rommel whispers to Shultzie seated next to him in the Filippino restaurant. “Zhiz meat kebabz really haf fonny tazte- do you zhink it iz dog- Ich heard zhey eat dog..?” “Nein Herr Feldmarshall- it iz not guut- to schweet unt alzo a bit tough- do not imagine dog vhould tazte like zhat..” “Ah so gentlemen- do you enjoy your pood? We were not sure how to prepare it- this is the pirst time we try?” Rommel shakes his head and slowly rubs back over the conversations they had since landing in Manila.. “Entshuldigen mich, Herr Elly- zhe introductory tour through zhe Manila mit Jeepney vhoz guut, unt all zhe greetink uf people vhoz guut- but zhiz food--- iz—how vhould ich zhay--- iz different, nicht vhar? “Oh no Ser- did we do not do it right- we wanted to make you peel right at home?” “Nein- everyhink is fine- vhe vhere just vhondring vhot meat zhiz vhoz- it iz not dog iz it?- vhe undeschtood you ate zhe dogz zhometimez- unt vhe haf not tazted zhe dog meat before unt zhat iz maybe vhy zhe meat taztz schtrange fur uz- nicht vhar Shultzie??” Shultz nods and secretly spits the meat out onto his palm before dropping it under the table where several small piles of slightly chewed piles of meat are already residing all along the length of the table- “Ah- no it is a joke that we eat dog- some very remote tribes in the mountains on some of the islands eat dogs, and the Chinese eats anything… but no- we heard you eat camel- and therepore we prepared some camel for you…” “Kamelz- vhe eat kamelz—vhere zhe helldid you hear zhat…???” “We had a call prom your protocol manager—he said his name was Dave Thompson and he was speaking por his boss?? And that you would really enjoy to be welcomed in the traditional North African way by having camel- and that you might even be bringing your own to celebrate the occasion of arriving in the Philippines??” “Ach himmel- Dave Thompson- zhat vhoz zhat schwein vho chazed uz on Bazuruto..…. Unt BOSS vhoz zhe … unt vhe vhill bring… Berthrude… HIMMEL—SHULTZ!!!” Shultzie and Rommel both jump up simultaneously, kicking the table over backwards in their haste- and sending half eaten food and drink and startled patrons flying all over the restaurant… They rush to the swing doors of the kitchen, first sticking in the narrow doorway before bursting through into the inside with several started cooks dropping plates and pans and looking in the direction of the duo… “VHERE IZ ZHE KAMEL?!!!!” The nearest cook points in the direction of the back door.. “Ting Chong wele plepaling it out thele sil…” Shultzie and Rommel rush outside… Under the open lean to a huge pot is bubbling on an open fire… in the open area there is a lot of blood and some guts lying in the dust…it is very quiet apart from the squeak of the hinges of the yard gate slowly moving in the breeze…. “Ach nein--- mein liebchen--- vhot haf zhey done……..
  13. The chute opens- with some deft flicks and janks on the steering ropes Stans lines upwith the surface running submarine some 800 meters below him. The orderly taking a steaming mug of cocoa to Gunny on the bridge gets knocked back into the control room by a descending pair of boots slamming onto his head. Stans deftly unclips the harness at the last moment and with a soft thump he lands on the control room floor and starts pulling the parachute inside through the open conning tower hatch.. “So—how is everybody…” Doug looks up from the map he is styding--- “Did you just parachute in through the conning tower hatch opening??” “Ahh—well yes? Is anything wrong?? “But that is impossible--- how did you m,anage that??” “Quit elementary actually- piece of cake- almost like a root channel—once you find the right angle it is easy from there…Where is Donster..” “Jeez- just follow the “aroma”- we have locked him in the back- and the rest of us live here in the front” Unseen by anybody Stans fist pumps as he steps through the hatch to the next section “Now that was something--- eat your heart out Gunny- let us see you repeating that neat special forces trick!!
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