by Franz Kafka
translated into the patois of middle-Pennsylvania by Hans Upph-Ovryerhed
LIKE IF YOU'RE SHLEPPING your ass up a hill at night and see some dude a ways off because there's a full moon, and this here dude is running at you full-bore, well, you don't tackle the fucker even if he is some whipped out little piece of shit, if you know what I mean, and even if there is some other fucker panting after him. You play it smart and let the bastard blow by you.
Because it's night, even though there is a full moon. And like what the fuck do you know, maybe these assholes are just having a game of tag or something. Or maybe the two are chasing some other motherfucker. Or maybe the second guy has a grudge against the first dude, maybe for something he didn't even pull. And maybe he's going to snuff the fucker. You might even get sent up as an accessory. If you know what I mean. Or maybe they don't even know each other at all and are merely running home separately to get laid. Or like maybe they just always like to go jogging at night.
Anyway, like you're too tired to grab anyone, even if you had the balls to. And haven't you had a few too many beers, and are a bit shit-faced. You watch the two men disappear into the darkness, thankful that you didn't stick you're nose in it. If you know what I mean.
translation copyright 2007 OnagerEditions
Hans Upph-Ovryerhed was born in East Germany. Accused of being a snitch for the STASI, he fled his homeland and moved to Trout Run in central, Pennsylvania, where he still lives. He has had many jobs, and currently works as a grocery-bagger in a supermarket. On Sundays he is an usher in a Slovak Catholic church. Han's goal is to translate all of Kafka's work into the middle-Pennsylvania dialect. This is his first published translation.