Swearing

‘Oh, fucking hell.’ The Dutch Navy Museum employee is standing with his hands on his hips and his head tilted back to look up at the side of the Tonijn. Someone had noticed something strange and called the museum and, since it was after closing time, a message had ended up on the answering machine. He’s in the habit of checking the answering machine on Saturday evenings; people often ring up enquiring about opening hours on Sundays or requesting other information. Plus he doesn’t mind having something to do. In the summer he likes to take an evening walk around the grounds, which have been open to the public since the opening of Cape Holland. His wife often comes with him. This is something new, something that’s never happened before. How did they get that writing up there anyway? They must have done it from the top, it’s at least six metres from the ground to the bottom of the black submarine. They must have used ropes, but the letters are so neat he can’t imagine anyone daubing them on while hanging upside down. It must have been a right performance, with all kinds of climbing gear, done after the five o’clock closing.

OH, YEAH? YEAH! No obscenities fortunately, but the lettering is enormous. Someone is approaching from behind, from the direction of town. He looks over his shoulder. A man with a small rucksack, striking red hair. He looks a bit sad. Sad and pissed off. The man stops and looks up.

‘‘‘Oh, yeah? Yeah!”?’ asks the man.

‘Makes a change from “Fuck you” or “Eat shit”,’ says the employee.

‘How’d they manage that?’

‘I haven’t got the foggiest. Maybe the fire brigade did it, with a ladder truck, because they were bored.’

‘No.’

‘No, of course not.’

‘It’s encouragement,’ the man says. ‘But who for? Us? The museum?’

‘Pink. That’s a strange colour.’

‘It stands out, on the black background like that.’

He looks to the side. The man is no longer staring up at the graffiti, but looking through under the Tonijn and into the distance, a serious expression on his face. ‘Headed for the ferry?’

‘Yeah.’

The employee checks his watch. ‘You better keep moving then, the last one’s about to sail.’

‘Yep.’ Once again, the man looks up at the submarine’s black hull, then turns and starts walking back into town.

‘Hey,’ he calls. ‘You’re going the wrong way.’

The man doesn’t react.

He wonders if he should call someone. ‘Oh, fucking hell,’ he says again, but his heart’s not really in it. It’s not that bad. Tomorrow’s visitors will have an extra attraction at no extra cost. And maybe it will change their view of things, just like this guy’s right now.