John! John!! John!!! John!!!!


…yelled the Festival Daily paper boy as the wind gushed the smoke from the nearby sausage stand over the Red Carpet and right into his lungs, making him cough after the last “John”.

That particular morning

Without any warning

I took a stroll down Masarykova street

And there were some people standing around

Who told me that KV is a place to meet

And new friends could be found.

Along the way was a giant photo of a man with a bow

From a film, but who he is, I did not know


Strolled up to the hotel Thermal

(Grease was screened in a cinema

And I remembered the man with the bow!)

There were more people standing around

And I started having problems with my epidermal

And broke my rhyme on the way

Hearing four trombonists play

The theme from Pulp fiction.

Went up to Grandhotel Pupp There were some people standing around: it was an organized siege!

Their faces were distorted, with eyeballs falling out! There I’ve seen horses stuck in the mud, forgotten babies in the street, lying and crying, being ran over by the crowd


I just had to get away!

Had to find a quiet place to write my Nisimasa Karlovy Vary confession

That was due today!


I went into the woods behind the Poop and found solitude.

Started writing my confession down when I was approached by a fox, you know, very much resembling the one from Von Trier’s Antichrist, and was asked in dismay

But nevertheless polite way:

What the f*** are you doing here, don’t you know that Travolta is in town?!

by Nino Kovačić


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