night without end.
Tomal bid the woman good day and continued along his path while shaking his head in disgust. Even with a massive stack of cash on hand, the woman would, in all likelihood, walk away from that bakery empty handed. The line was too long, and the resources too, scarce for her to expect there to be anything on the shelves when it came her turn to pay. A proud people could not exist like this for long, let alone for decades with no end in sight. Something had to change.
Many were now calling for a change and more were shouting that demand with every passing day. It was what kept Tomal employed as he stepped through the front door of a dark, dank, yet full beer hall. He was to listen in and determine if this group, the German Workers’ Party, posed a threat to the central government of Germany.
Tomal attempted to navigate through the crowd without brushing against others, but the task was impossible. He ended up bouncing off every person he encountered on his way to the back of the room. Most were polite and let him by, others glared at him for the personal intrusion. The last individual gave him a good, hard shove for his troubles that sent him careening toward the back wall. With a good foot, he could have caught himself, but his shortened leg caused him to fall head first into a set of extended arms.
“Easy there friend, I’ve got you,” said the tall individual owning the pair of arms.
Tomal reset his footing and rose to his full height to find the kind man not so tall after all. His thin, spindly frame gave the deception of height to an otherwise average sized individual. One feature that still looked enormous on him was his Prussian style mustache. It angled down from his nose like an upside down V that hung thick, black and full over the corners of his mouth. Below that tuft of hair was a broad smile accentuated by a set of sparkling blue eyes.
“Thank you for your help,” Tomal managed to say offering a handshake of gratitude.
“No thanks are necessary. It was either catch you or be tackled to the ground,” the man said before accepting the handshake. “Tell me, what brings you to this fine establishment?”
Tomal glanced around the packed room for a moment before answering, “Hope. Clearly I’m not alone in that pursuit.”
“Not at all,” the man replied and directed Tomal to turn around and face the lectern since the guest speaker had just taken to the tiny stage. Their formal introduction would have to wait.
There, up on stage, he watched the man wearing a pair of spectacles with circular frames and sporting a handlebar mustache arrange his notes. He carried an air of authority about him while standing there in his grey suit, but Tomal knew all too well the German Workers’ Party leader commanded fewer than fifty members. He was insignificant in the grand scheme of things and so was Tomal for being assigned to monitor the insignificant man’s activities. That fact irked him to no end as the room fell silent to hear Heir Drexler’s words.
“Gentlemen of Germany,” Drexler began. “I had hoped to stand before you tonight and bolster your spirits, but I cannot. How can I speak of brighter days ahead when the darkness of today is so apparent and all consuming?”
“On my way here tonight I passed no fewer than ten shops with customers lined out the door and into the streets. These customers carried with them a mountain of currency to purchase the simplest of necessities. Why must they pay so much for bread or shoes? Capitalism!” the speaker boomed to mild applause from the audience. “The people must have these things to survive. They will pay any price and the greedy shop owners, these capitalists, know this and charge us all dear. Their actions have brought about nothing but misfortune upon our great nation.”
“Who are these capitalists?” Drexler asked with a sudden change of tone from lamentation to genuine
Tomal bid the woman good day and continued along his path while shaking his head in disgust. Even with a massive stack of cash on hand, the woman would, in all likelihood, walk away from that bakery empty handed. The line was too long, and the resources too, scarce for her to expect there to be anything on the shelves when it came her turn to pay. A proud people could not exist like this for long, let alone for decades with no end in sight. Something had to change.
Many were now calling for a change and more were shouting that demand with every passing day. It was what kept Tomal employed as he stepped through the front door of a dark, dank, yet full beer hall. He was to listen in and determine if this group, the German Workers’ Party, posed a threat to the central government of Germany.
Tomal attempted to navigate through the crowd without brushing against others, but the task was impossible. He ended up bouncing off every person he encountered on his way to the back of the room. Most were polite and let him by, others glared at him for the personal intrusion. The last individual gave him a good, hard shove for his troubles that sent him careening toward the back wall. With a good foot, he could have caught himself, but his shortened leg caused him to fall head first into a set of extended arms.
“Easy there friend, I’ve got you,” said the tall individual owning the pair of arms.
Tomal reset his footing and rose to his full height to find the kind man not so tall after all. His thin, spindly frame gave the deception of height to an otherwise average sized individual. One feature that still looked enormous on him was his Prussian style mustache. It angled down from his nose like an upside down V that hung thick, black and full over the corners of his mouth. Below that tuft of hair was a broad smile accentuated by a set of sparkling blue eyes.
“Thank you for your help,” Tomal managed to say offering a handshake of gratitude.
“No thanks are necessary. It was either catch you or be tackled to the ground,” the man said before accepting the handshake. “Tell me, what brings you to this fine establishment?”
Tomal glanced around the packed room for a moment before answering, “Hope. Clearly I’m not alone in that pursuit.”
“Not at all,” the man replied and directed Tomal to turn around and face the lectern since the guest speaker had just taken to the tiny stage. Their formal introduction would have to wait.
There, up on stage, he watched the man wearing a pair of spectacles with circular frames and sporting a handlebar mustache arrange his notes. He carried an air of authority about him while standing there in his grey suit, but Tomal knew all too well the German Workers’ Party leader commanded fewer than fifty members. He was insignificant in the grand scheme of things and so was Tomal for being assigned to monitor the insignificant man’s activities. That fact irked him to no end as the room fell silent to hear Heir Drexler’s words.
“Gentlemen of Germany,” Drexler began. “I had hoped to stand before you tonight and bolster your spirits, but I cannot. How can I speak of brighter days ahead when the darkness of today is so apparent and all consuming?”
“On my way here tonight I passed no fewer than ten shops with customers lined out the door and into the streets. These customers carried with them a mountain of currency to purchase the simplest of necessities. Why must they pay so much for bread or shoes? Capitalism!” the speaker boomed to mild applause from the audience. “The people must have these things to survive. They will pay any price and the greedy shop owners, these capitalists, know this and charge us all dear. Their actions have brought about nothing but misfortune upon our great nation.”
“Who are these capitalists?” Drexler asked with a sudden change of tone from lamentation to genuine
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