From the heart of the jungle comes a savage cry of victory. This is Tarzan, Lord of the Jungle. From the black core of dark Africa, land of enchantment, mystery and violence comes one of the most colorful figures of all time. Transcribed from the immortal pen of Edgar Rice Burroughs. Tarzan, the bronzed white son of the jungle. And now in the very words of Mr. Burroughs, the story of Tarzan's mistake. Cats, thirteen, walking under ladders, spilling salt, knocking on wood. Maybe the list doesn't include your superstitions. But because people about us believe in these things, we sometimes think that maybe there's something to them. Tarzan had lived among the African natives for many, many years. And the voodoo in the jungle magic he had once scoffed at had become more and more a part of his own beliefs. Now he sat in the small, windowless hut of Medinga, sorceress of the Manobo tribe. Sitting cross-legged opposite the old woman, he watched her in template as she sprinkled secret powders into the kettle between them. He began to sway rhythmically and utter a magical incantation. What do you see in the kettle, Medinga? Medinga see nothing. But you must see something. I came hundreds of miles because you summoned me. You must see something there. You must tell me. Medinga tried. Into cauldron, eagles beaked. Makes a magic kettle speak. I have told. Jungle is... White men kill blacks. Destroy all in their path.  But I wouldn't do that. Is no other place. Jungle gone. Black men who Tarzan's friends dead. Now I see Tarzan sick. He pale, dying. Cannot live in city. So he too go to the land of spirits. But is there nothing I can do to change this, Medinga? Tarzan must stop white men from destroy jungle. White men come now near village Manobo people. Near here? Tarzan must stop Tamungani from build iron road for wagons and re-fire. Tarzan must destroy tools, supplies. Tarzan, come into hima. Me, Lokimo, chief Manobo people. Thank you, Lokimo. Sit down. Eat meat with Lokimo. He Tarzan's friend. I have no wish to eat now. My mind is greatly troubled. You speak to Lokimo what in mind and heart. Lokimo know Tarzan since he young boy. Lokimo, have you seen any white men near here lately? Oh, this morning see white men few miles village. But I came here only this morning, I didn't see them. You come from Punya village? Yes. Then you come from north, white men south of village. Near Yukanya mountain. Lokimo see only this morning they make camp there. Did you tell Medinga about seeing them? Only Lokimo know, not tell anyone yet. But Medinga knew all about their coming. Medinga, great sorceress, know all. She says they intend to build a railroad near here. Not know, but these Tamungani, these white men make big camp, start build huts, stables for iron animals with great shields, those with great teeth and those that crawl like gimla, the crocodile. You mean bulldozers, steam shovels and tractors?  Hey, what do we do? We must smash their equipment, destroy their supplies, frighten them so badly they will never want to return here. We must drive them from our jungle. In just a moment we shall learn what happens when Tarzan and the warriors of Manobo attack the camp of the white men. At the foot of the towering Yukanya mountain, the camp of the white men had begun to form a well-organized pattern. They had arrived only this morning, but already much had been accomplished. Exhausted, most of the expedition had retired for the night, but in the tiny field office, two men studied blueprints by the flickering light of an oil lamp. Can you turn the wick up a trifle more, Whitehead? There are a few things I'd like to recheck here. If you'll pardon my saying it, Mr. Halliday, I think it's time we turned in. We've all had a rough day. Yes, yes, I know, but I can't help worrying about the way we're going at this. Don't you honestly believe we'd been better off starting to lay tracks from Lagos and then... Don't you trust my judgment? Oh, well, yes. Yes, of course I do, Whitehead. According to your references, you're one of the finest engineers in the country, but I still think we're making things tough for ourselves. Here, look, this mountain, for example... Mr. Halliday, I've been over surveys of every inch of ground between the tin mines and Lagos. And if we're going to build a railroad between the two, there's no way of avoiding that mountain. Yes, but the costs of making the cut through the mountain will be fantastic. If we run into rock deposits, it'll... it'll break me. I'm willing to bank on my knowledge of geology, Mr. Halliday. The mountain's free of rock deposits except for some shaley sandstone that we can cut through like butter. Well, I hope you're right, but I'd still feel a lot happier if we didn't have to start with the cut. It's our toughest problem, I admit that. But I like to take the toughest hurdles first. You won't be sorry you took my advice. Well, I'm banking heavily on you, Whitehead. My original plans go... What's that? Whitehead! No! Let's get outside, hurry! There's something sure causing a devil of a racket. I can't imagine what's going on. Well, no, no! Look, savages! Hundreds of them! They're smashing our equipment! Tearing our buildings down! They're ruining everything we've brought here! Better not get too close to them! I'll get our guns! Already the tide of destruction had swept over the camp of the white men. Buildings were smashed into kindling wood. Tractors and bulldozers and steam shovels were rendered useless. Valuable supplies were hacked and shredded beyond recognition. Halliday saw his life savings. His brave investment in Africa's future fall before the savage onslaught of infuriated blacks led by a white savage in a leopard skin. Before Whitehead could return with a gun, the natives had finished their job and disappeared into the deep jungle. What was that? I... I don't know. Some victory cry of the natives or an animal in the distance. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters much now. This is a pretty tough break. One we couldn't look forward to. No. No, I suppose not. I feel badly for your sake, yes, well as my own Whitehead, and I may not be able to live up to that contract I made for your services. Oh, forget about it, Mr. Halliday. I won't try to hold you to the contract. Thank you. Thank you, boy. I suppose we'll be heading back in the morning. No. No, we won't. I don't know what I'll be able to do, but I'm not giving up my dream of this railroad. If I have to, I'll build it rail by rail and tie by tie with my own hands. What do you see in your magic kettle now, Nendinga? Heart of white men still strong. They not move camp, not leave jungle. They haven't left? Well, I thought surely that after we ruined their equipment, they would flee as fast as they could. White men still won't destroy jungle, drive black men from home. Well, they won't do it. And what we've done hasn't made them decide to leave our jungle. We shall take other measures. What Tarzan do? I don't know yet, but I'll make a plan. I'll leave you, Nendinga. I would have words with Lokimo, chief of the Manobo tribe. May spirits smile upon you, Tarzan, ward of jungle. May the spirits smile upon you, Nendinga, mighty sorceress. Lokimo! Lokimo! I was just coming to your Hema. Have your scouts returned from the Yucanya land yet? They've returned just now. They tell that white men not leave their camp. Nendinga seemed to know that even before your messengers arrived here. She told me they hadn't left. Nendinga know all what we do now, Tarzan. We shall wait until the full moon, which is but a few days off. Then with the moonlight shining down upon the camp, we shall smash what is left of their equipment. We shall let them see our war masks and our arrows. And we shall brandish our knives and make war signs with our spears. It will be their last warning. I'm Halliday. I'm Captain Lawrence of the Governmental Police. I can't hear just as soon as your runner reach town. Thank you, Captain Lawrence. Meet Mr. Whitehead, our chief engineer. I'm delighted to know you, Mr. Whitehead. There's sound of things you haven't given up your construction work yet. Things weren't quite as bad as we thought at first. Oh, we've had to send to Lagos for a great many replacement parts and repair materials. And I was forced to send a letter back to the bank asking for additional financing. But without further setbacks, we still have a chance of building our railroad. Well, I certainly wish you luck. And I'll try to find out something about the attack made on you. Did you see any of the natives closely? No, no. We were some distance from them. You couldn't describe any of their native tattooing, then? The tribal marks? I'm afraid that's a blind trail, Captain Lawrence. We couldn't possibly identify any of them. All we can do is to repair our equipment, pray they won't attack again and get to work. Oh, wait, wait. There might be one clue, Captain Lawrence. Yes. Their leader was a white man. A white man? Well, that might explain a good deal. I understand the owners of the tin mines near Kuraka aren't anxious to have a railroad servicing their competitors. This man was no tin mine operator. He was a savage. Yeah, I think he may have been the one who gave that unearthly cry as they disappeared. And unearthly cry? Hmm. No, it's not possible. It couldn't be. What are you talking about, Captain? The cry. Did it sound like the victory cry of the bull ape? Well, I've never heard a bull ape, but I'd rather imagine an ape might sound like that. Captain Lawrence, where are you going? Into the jungle to find Tarzan. Yeah, move quick, white man.  There's no need to push me. My noble people are not like white men who sneak into our village. I didn't sneak in. I walked right up to your sentry and asked him plainly whether he had seen Tarzan. It's important that I find him. Why do you want to see me, Captain Lawrence? Tarzan! Tarzan, it's good to see you again. I leave, Tarzan. Not want talk with white man. I shall join you in a moment. What do you want, Captain Lawrence? Well, it's not a very enthusiastic welcome for an old friend. Your lack of courtesy could be a shield to hide a guilty conscience. Why should I have a guilty conscience? Two nights ago, a savage attack was made upon the camp of a Mr. Halliday. It was an unwarranted attack that caused considerable damage. And it was led by a white man.  It could have been? Tarzan, what's happened to you? You've always been against unreasonable attacks, wasteful destruction of materials, injuries to a greater noble cause. A great cause? Do you think that tearing down the jungle to build cities where crime will flourish is a great cause? That depriving my black brothers of their homes is noble? Listen to me, Tarzan. Listen carefully. Charles Halliday is a friend of the black men. And he has invested every sentry he has to build a railroad for their health. What do you mean? For many years, the owners of the tin mines near Kuraka have had a virtual monopoly. They have dictated the poor wages paid the miners. They've set the price to be paid at Lagos. And they've established the unbearable working conditions under which the blacks have long suffered. I know that well. But Halliday, because he is a great man, has hired engineers and has bought expensive equipment to run a railroad to other mines. Once the line goes through, if you permit it to go through, all of that will be changed. Is it possible? It's more than possible. It's a fact. When or if tin is delivered quickly to Lagos from these new mines, the mine owners of Kuraka will no longer be able to pay starvation wages. They shall have to build clean houses for their workers. And they shall have to sell their product at a fair price. The future of Africa itself has been threatened by your savage attack on Halliday's camp. I have been away from civilization too long, Captain Lawrence. I've been swayed by the superstitions and the fears of the natives. I have made a mistake. You have made no mistake, Tarzan. Who's this? She's Nadenga, sorceress of the Manobo people. The one who influenced me to make the horrible mistake for which I must make amends at once. Good. I knew I could count on you, Tarzan. Tarzan, not make mistake. Words of Nadenga are true. White man's camp must be destroyed. In just a moment, the exciting conclusion of our story of Tarzan's mistake. Your curses and your threats will do no good, Nadenga.  Men of Manobo, not help. Yes, you've been successful in frightening them so they will not undo their wrong, but at least they've promised not to attack the camp again. That bad promise. Nadenga's magic heart that talks a Manobo should attack. Your magic heart that talks? I've never heard of that device. See, is new magic. Tell Nadenga future. Look, here. Oh, that is magic. It's a watch made by a white man. It is magic heart. It is a small porcelain watch in the shape of a heart. Can't imagine where you've got it, but I'm sure it's not magic. No, Captain Lawrence has opened my eyes and I will not be missed that again. Goodbye, Nadenga. Evil spirits haunt your sleep. Double troubles shall you reap. Mr. Halliday, this is Tarzan. Tarzan, this is Mr. Halliday. And Mr. Whitehead, his chief engineer. Glad to know you, Tarzan. I'm afraid I can't add my salutation to Whitehead, Tarzan. No amount of apologies will make up for what you've done. I don't blame you, Mr. Halliday, but I did not intend mere apologies to atone for my crime. Well, we could use a man of your strength in the labor gang, but I have to have men here I can have faith in. If you'll pardon me, Mr. Halliday, I don't believe you're being fair. He's admitted freely that he was the one who led the raid. Let's give him a chance to make it up. I'll have to make this decision, Whitehead. Mr. Halliday, what damage that we did caused you the most inconvenience? The most serious damage... Well, I'd hardly term it an inconvenience, was the hacking of the railroad ties. We may not be able to get more, even by the time we're ready for them. I bought the last they had in Lagos. I'm sure they'll come through, Mr. Halliday. And even if they don't, we can use local woods. I am not taking a chance on anything but the best ties. Mr. Halliday, I know of woods in the jungle that are even harder and tougher than those we demolished. I shall make it my personal responsibility to fell the trees and fashion the ties you need. And I still have serious doubts about you, Tarzan, but if you can make good of that promise, I'll be willing to concede that I'm wrong about you. Well, Mr. Halliday, how did the work go today? Well, not too well, Captain Lawrence. We ran into granite deposits. Yes, Whitehead was certain there was nothing but shale there. I just can't understand how he made such a mistake. Well, I guess we're all entitled to one mistake. Even Tarzan, who's made few in his lifetime, made one when he led the attack against you. Yes, and you made one when you didn't arrest him after you'd found him. There's no sign of him or the railroad ties he's promised. Oh, what's that? Another attack? I was right in not trusting that white savage. You'll stay since then! You'll stay soon! The general, all right? He killed a dozen of them. Yes, we have, but look, three of our men on the ground with arrows to their hearts, pure Tarzan and his promises. But he didn't lead this attack, and I swear on my honor, he had nothing to do with it. Hell, if Tarzan wasn't responsible for the attack, at least he has no intention of helping us. For all we know, he's hundreds of miles from here by this time. In one conclusion, Mr. Halliday was a hundred percent correct. Tarzan was hundreds of miles away. At the very moment, he was walking down the rubble-strewn main street of Kuraka, center of the Great Tin Monopoly. He passed the wretched shacks of the workmen, glanced at the sign over the headquarters of the largest of the mine owners, and then strolled into a small shop that sold trinkets and ornaments. Something in the store's window had caught his eye. May I help you? I noticed a heart-shaped watch in your window. What's its price? It's four pounds six. It's very fine porcelain. There's not another one like it to be had in all of Africa. How can I be sure of that? I myself purchased the watches in Switzerland and bought them here. There was only two of that particular design ever made. Good. I'd like two of them. Were I to return home with only one, it might cause jealousy. I am very sorry, but I sold the other one some time ago. That's too bad. Well, I'll have to think about buying just one. I have some business here in town right next door. I noticed the sign Vice-Cup and Son as I came in. Yes, it is the largest tin mining firm in the entire district. Do you happen to know if Mr. Vice-Cup would be in at this hour? Mr. Vice-Cup is a very old man. He goes home quite early. I didn't say which Mr. Vice-Cup. How about the son who's mentioned in the sign? The old man had hopes his son would enter the business and he erected the sign, but the lad had other ideas. Like taking up a profession instead of entering the business? Why, are you questioning? And could the profession have been that of engineering? I don't know. What is this all about anyway? And the other watch? Was it too young, Mr. Vice-Cup, that you sold it? That's none of your business. Perhaps not, but I have an inquisitive mind that insists on hearing the answers. Captain Lawrence, I guess you were wrong about Tarzan. But he couldn't have fell the trees in fashion enough ties during two weeks? Perhaps in a few days? Oh no, no, I'm sorry, Lawrence. But if Tarzan intended to keep his word, we're ready for them now. And there aren't any to be had in Lagos either. Well, I wish I could make some suggestion. All I can do is to have my men continue to guard your work. At least there haven't been any further raids. What was that? You spoke too soon, Lawrence. Look, hundreds of natives this time. This is the end of us. Like a tide of locusts, the warring blacks swarmed upon the camp. Captain Lawrence's small band fought valiantly. The workmen defended their equipment with picks and shovels as weapons. But they could not withstand the savage attack. And then suddenly from the thicket came a second band of natives led by Tarzan. They waded into the attacking horde. Caught between Tarzan's band and the men of Captain Lawrence, the attackers became confused and disheartened. Badly beaten within a matter of minutes, those who were left fled into the jungle depths. Tarzan, you saved us this time, but why are your men holding Whitehead? Let me go, you have no right to hold me prisoner. I'd like to know... Quiet, Mr. Whitehead, or I shall permit my men to kill you now. What's this all about? When I left here, I went to my friends at the Pugna tribe. Together we began cutting down the trees and fashioning the railroad ties you needed, Mr. Halliday. Yes. But I was troubled by what had taken place here. Not your unfriendly attitude toward me, Mr. Halliday, for that was natural, but by Mr. Whitehead's friendly reception, which was most unnatural. I merely wanted to... I left the cutting of the wood to the Pugnas, and I traveled to Koraka. You went to Koraka? And a sign there reminded me of the German language I once studied. I suddenly remembered that the German Weisskopf translated into English as Whitehead. Weiss... Weisskopf and son, a firm that's tried to block me at every turn. Oh, I can explain, Mr. Halliday. Yes, yes, and I suppose you can explain why you chose pure granite for me to cut through. My men will take care of Mr. Whitehead, alias Weisskopf. Martin, escort our friend back to Lagos for trial. No, I can explain. Come along. You see, he bribed a native sorceress with gifts of watches and leather trinkets, and she stirred her people and me into opposing you. She shall receive jungle punishment. Well, I've changed my mind about you, Tarzan, but we still face problems. Perhaps I can help with some of them. The Pugnas who defeated the last of the natives Mr. Whitehead recruited will return and get the ties we dropped when we heard of this latest attack. Wait. You've brought them. And I can also assure you an old elephant trail that will make it unnecessary for you to cut through the balance of the Yukanya mountain. So there is an easy way? There is no easy way to cross any part of Africa, but it should be easier than making the cut. The men of Pugna and I will help you build your railroad, and you will help me erase my great mistake. In just a moment, a preview of our next exciting story of Tarzan. In later years, Tarzan was destined to question whether his strange experiences in the mystic land never really happened at all. And yet at the time they occurred, they seemed real. The buildings and the people and the strange acting animals appeared as genuine as those of his own jungle. But one can be sure of nothing except that death has small wings, which is the title of our next story of Tarzan. Tarzan, a transcribed creation of the famous Edgar Rice Burroughs, is produced by Walter White Jr. Prepared for radio by Bud Lesser with original music by Albert Blasser. This is a Commodore production.


Hi everyone, Joe for Jaspy's casebreaks.com. We kinda did it. We knocked out all but one of the all-spots sold break credit promo breaks tonight. Nick was nice enough to say, hey listen, we got partially there. Let's still give away a little bit of money. We're gonna give away half the amount that we were intending to give away. So it's still something. So I appreciate everybody getting in. The only thing we fell short on was that paradigm football. There was still pretty much, still one full filler left on that one. We didn't quite get there, but I appreciate everybody digging deep and trying. But Break King, you're in absolute baseball. You're in that spectra filler you're in and that upper deck supreme hard court you're in. So on the break schedule that's always pinned in the chat, we've been keeping track of it right here. So yeah, we just missed out on that one. But the other ones are in. Let's go to the dollar sign or the money bag tab. So there's Break King, all the names there. There's the spectra filler pack. There's the absolute baseball list. And there's the not US Supreme, I'm thinking of US Supreme Court. No, upper deck authentic Supreme hard court. Not US Supreme Court. We did not do a break of that. And that was the gang there. So that's 119 names. So let's gather all those names. So it's one, two, three, four breaks. There we go. So let's copy all those names. So there are four breaks, right? One, two, three, four. Perfect. New dice, new list. And we're gonna give away half the money. So not this. Maybe next time we can do the full promo. But hey, listen, don't worry, we're still giving away money. So top name, we'll get $500 instead. Second name, we'll get 250. And the rest of you, we'll get $50 of break credit each. Top seven, we'll still win. Not bad, not bad. So once again, big thanks to everybody who dug deep on all of these breaks. Thanks for doing what you would normally do, join breaks. And as an added bonus, you may get a little cherry on top. Maybe a little break credit going your way. So let's do it. Let's roll it, randomize your names. Five or four and a six, 10 times. Top seven after 10, good luck. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. And fingers crossed. One more, right? One more, 10th and final time. Fingers crossed, good luck. All right, first off, a lot of sad faces here. Thanks everybody, though I appreciate it. Can't win if you don't play, thanks for playing. All right, now the worst part on this list is gonna be spot eight, just on the outside looking in. But spot eight, no matter who you are, Steve K, I appreciate it, man. Thank you for getting in. All right, top seven though, you're happy. The next five, you're reasonably happy. $50 each going your way. One, two, three, four, five, little break credit. Second name, even happier, 250 bucks of break credit. Brian Frank, there you go. And the happiest, grand prize, $500 of break credit. Mark Rao, so congrats to the top seven once again. Hopefully next time we can unlock the full amount of break credit.  So Mark, 500 bucks, Brian, 250 and 50. I'll probably send that in one $300 code, by the way. And then Steve, Tim, Jimmy, and Steven. $50 break credit each going your way. So thanks to Nick, Jaspy, for still letting us give away some money. Thanks everybody for digging deep and joining all these breaks. Really appreciate it. I'm Joe for jaspy'scasebreaks.com. We'll talk to you next time, bye-bye.


Since I was a little child, I was fascinated with old-school entertainment, ventriloquist, magicians, circus performers, puppeteers, or mimes. With very little effort, they were able to open up the doors of my imagination and put me under their spell. Over time I lost my interest in that kind of thing and turned more and more to electronics, but I never really forgot about my childhood heroes who I never stopped to admire. But one evening, my admittedly nostalgic fascination with these old arts of entertainment came to a sudden and undeniably disturbing end. I decided to visit one of the last plays of the Fearless Vampire Killers or Dance of the Vampires if you want to call it that. I always wanted to watch it, but only found the motivation when I heard that the musical would stop being played in Germany. After an amazing show, I walked the streets of Berlin. I headed for an underground gothic bar I'm a regular in. I just wanted to finish the day with some beers and in the company of like-minded people. Taking the main streets or public transportation didn't seem to be the right choice for that evening. Weather was fine, not too cold and the sun still stood high enough to color the sky fittingly blood red.  I'm a little paranoid in these kinds of situations, so I prepared to intervene if it would have come to show that the old man was being picked on or harassed. I slowly walked towards the group and to my amazement found that there was no kind of harassment at all, but entertainment by the old man.  I just couldn't bring myself to walk away. I waited and watched the performance for several minutes, fascinated by the dexterity and precision of the old man handling the puppet. Besides his enormous talent, the old man seemed to be distant. He didn't seem to pay any attention at all and his face was expressionless. I figured that must be a good thing for a ventriloquist and he must have been doing this for decades now. Even though I kind of felt sad for the old man, I grinned broadly all the same. The jokes often were pretty inappropriate but consisted of really accurate observations of society which may have been his way to show his discontent for the people he met as a street performer over all these years. The tricks and stunts continued for around 10 more minutes until the puppet grabbed a handkerchief out of the old man's pocket, spread it out in front of itself, took a bow and thanked the people for the attention before wishing a good evening to everyone. Some of the teenagers grabbed some change from their pockets and placed the money on the handkerchief while laughingly complimenting the old man. I too wanted to pay the puppeteer, in my eyes that much talent and dexterity must not go unseen and unrewarded. While I was rummaging through my change, the puppet watched the teenagers carry on their way. I didn't think they'd give me money. Normally these pricks aren't good for anything but malice. I lifted my head, looked at the puppet and then watched the teenagers as well. Yeah, sometimes miracles really can happen. I laid my eyes on the puppet again, squat down and looked at its workmanship. It was clearly very old, maybe even to be considered antique. The wood was split up on many parts and the paint was chipped everywhere too. It really looked the worst for wear. You're immensely talented. You know that right? I asked and out of curiosity tried to touch the puppet's hand. Immediately I got slapped by the wooden doll.  The puppet snarled. I didn't think much of it. The puppet was old and the old man's subsistence seemed to depend on it. I apologized and put three euros on the handkerchief. Why are you sitting in the streets? That talent of yours you could easily perform at theaters. Well, I like it here. The street show me the real people, not the all dressed up snobs with their fancy wardrobe and opera tickets, thinking they're better than everybody. I see. Well, nevertheless, you are very talented. My compliments. At this moment, I realized that I'd been talking to the doll the whole time instead of the old man. I looked at the man. You can talk to me without the doll. I offered politely or I mean unless you don't want to break character. No, he can't. The puppet replied. But why?  For a moment, I almost got angry. The puppets answers were as rude as the jokes it had told minutes ago. I decided to carry on my way bowed down, wished a good evening and went on without shedding any further thought about the puppeteer. Some hundred meters away, I came to an intersection and as I looked left and right to be sure about the traffic, my heart took a dive on the opposite side of the street on the left stood the old puppeteer. Again he showed the same tricks and stunts told the same jokes. But how on earth did he get there before I did? I may have just been walking slowly, but the old man did not seem to be light on his feet. I just couldn't take my eyes off him and his puppet as I walked slowly further. Even though we were at least 50 to 40 meters apart, I wanted to get as far away as fast as I could. At the exact moment I was to walk around a corner and lose sight of the old puppeteer, his doll's head turned right at me. While the old man still had that absent expressionless look on his face, his puppet stared right at me. For a fraction of a second, I was scared. Further remainder of my way, I turned around all the time always on high alert. I had the feeling of the puppet's eyes lying on me all the time, but no matter how many times I looked around, how much my head was tuning in every direction and how much I tried to register anything and everything around me, I didn't see the puppeteer again. It was only at the club that I was able to shut down and I tried to think of it as simple deja vu. My shivering hands told a very different story. The barkeeper asked me several times if I was alright since she thought I looked pretty shaken, but she took my word for it as I told her I just had a stressful day. Slowly but surely, the incident with the old man fell from me. The later it got, the more relaxed I became and in the end I was able to enjoy music, drinks and company as if nothing ever happened. At around 4 am, I went on my way home. Being in a good mood again, I strolled through the streets of Berlin heading for the Central Station. The temperatures had fallen low enough to make breathing visible. Not many people were still around and the city itself seemed pretty quiet. Not far away from Central Station however, I got that feeling of being watched again. I turned to all signs, nearly panicking. I wanted to ensure myself that it was just a trick played by my subconscious, but behind a tree somewhere around 100 meters in the distance, there was someone standing. I could make out for sure who or what was standing there without them moving at all, but I knew it was the puppeteer and he was standing directly in my way. No chance I meet that creep again. I thought to myself and turned into a back alley to get around the old man and return to my route behind him. My legs were shaking due to more than just the cold air and I had trouble keeping up my pace. Some 100 meters later, I wanted to turn again towards Central Station as I again found myself standing right in front of the old man. Standing only 10 meters away, his puppet eyes were staring again right at me. My breath stopped. All my senses screamed havoc. I wanted to run. Every muscle in my body was tensed up and I shivered. Good evening, buddy. The puppet said, Are you cold? You tremble like an aspen leaf. I didn't know what this was all about. Was it supposed to be a serious question or was it part of a disgusting kind of game? I just wanted to get out of here. The puppet spoke again. Oh look, you were pretty talkative back then. What is it that's left you speechless now? It really started to annoy me that the old man only talked through the puppet. Having a distinctive style is one thing, but that made the whole situation only a thousand times more menacing. My body started to prepare for a fight. I didn't seem to be able to escape him and with flight being no option, confrontation was all that was left.  Don't even try, buddy. You wouldn't sound threatening at all right now. You shiver too much for that. The old man let the puppet walk up and down in front of me like a CEO at a presentation of sorts still staring into space.  Nothing at all, buddy. I just want to talk. Well talk to me yourself then instead of using that damn puppet. Of course the puppet replied, but I already do. I swear my heart skipped several beats. My breath stopped and I felt a sudden weakness running through me just as if every muscle in my body stopped working. My eyes widened and for the first time I looked close enough to see that the visible breath streaming into the cold air was coming from the puppet's mouth. Not the old puppeteer, but the puppet itself was breathing. It pulled down its strings from the old man's hands who sunk to the ground like a towel or bed sheet. He inflated like he had not a single muscle or bone in his body. My legs gave up and I fell to the ground unable to scream due to sheer terror. Hitting the asphalt must have sent an adrenaline rush through my body because I got up and as fast as I possibly could. I ran. I ran to the station to people and found the most crowded area I could find. It was only as I boarded the train and it began moving that I got a little more calm. It was only by chance then when I looked up out the window and saw the puppet and the old man standing there. The puppet smiled at me and waved goodbye.