We went to Székesfehérvár for a match against MAV; we lost in 3: 23-25, 22-25, 21-25. Their team is fairly young, and has the only other foreign player in the league, a girl from Canada. Also, their coach wore blue bubble kneepads while coaching. We blew a huge lead in game one, and were never able to regain our composure. Nothing was going our way. Our post-game wardrobe change was very somber. We made a pitstop at McDonalds for dinner before beginning on our 4.5 hour drive back to Bekescsaba. Timi had some “tiny cheese baguettes” aka pogasca, from her mother for her birthday, which was in January. I fell asleep shortly after eating, but only for about an hour. I woke up to hear the girls in the back of the bus laughing. They were playing a question game, led by Barbi. When I asked to play, Barbi responded with “we know about the man”, to which I responded, “what man?” The story goes as follows:
The man who ate the lunch. He killed himself because he is a fisherman and he are seagull soup. But why did he kill himself??? He hates seagulls because they eat his fish, so he poisoned them. When he found out he ate seagull soup, he knew he would die from the poison, so he killed himself. WRONG. He is actually a boat captain (shakes his booty, because that’s what sea captains do). He didn’t eat seagull soup, as this is a sick, twisted, “horse” story…I mean “horror” story. While he was eating the soup, his wife came into his mind. Earlier that day, he killed his wife out at sea, chopped her up into pieces and fed her to the birds. By eating seagull soup, he was eating the wife he had just murdered. He killed himself out of remorse. WRONG His wife is dead, but he didn’t kill her. She was not killed by the birds nor did they eat her. In the restaurant, it is seagull soup that they serve, but when his wife died she fell into the soup. Why is the wife on his mind? Because he hasn’t had sex in a long time and is lonely. WRONG. Sex is not important. He ate his wife, not at the restaurant where he ate the seagull soup, but before going to the restaurant. We know the man is a boat captain ad that before he went to the restaurant, his wife was killed. Who killed her? It wasn’t the man. It wasn’t the seagulls. There are no cannibals involved.
This story goes on much farther, but I would risk giving away the answer. Instead, I will just let you know that most of this conversation occurred within my Hungarian teammates, of course in Hungarian. The ridiculous comments you read above were solely from my twisted brain. I would raise my hand in the air, wave it ferociously to attract attention before bursting into laughter at the stupid comment in my mind. The girls would call on me, listen patiently as I explained my answer before kindly saying, “uhhh no”. We bantered back and forth, playing these riddle games and telling jokes the remainder of the drive home. I introduced them to some knock-knock jokes, which lost most of their meaning when I had to explain; example: knock knock, who’s there? banana, banana who? “knock knock, who’s there? banana, banana who? knock knock, who’s there? banana, banana who? knock knock, who’s there? Orange, orange who? Orange you glad I didn’t say ‘banana’?” The “orange”-“aren’t you” substitution was a little difficult, and made the joke seem dumber than it already is. Stupid language barrier.
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