The Secret Diaries


Iron Klaus



The Secret Diary of Dorian Red Gloria

The Secret Diary of Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach

Day One

Met closet case. German. Psychotic, but cute.

Eberbach art collection is pearls before boars.

Thought Caesar Gabriel was clueless.

Assigned to find "psychic" boy. Waste of time.

Met fag art-buyer. Waste of oxygen.

Cannot stop thinking about that foppish curly-haired bugger. Hate anyone who would drive that kind of flashy car. I would never wear a red sleeveless shirt. 'M not dissipated aristocrat with too much time and money. Only frivolous narcissist would buy flashy non-German car like that.

Could buy Leopard tank with pumpkin pants painting. Humph.

Day Three

Flew back to England to snap closet case’s proud German nose.

Major had veritable army at West German Embassy guarding paintings from me. Rather excessive.

Gassed Embassy. Stole paintings. Go me! Major cussed me out before he passed out. Offered him good-night kiss. At that, Major passed out, overcome by either inhalation of gas or else rapture at my offer, not sure which.

Went to London to nab so-called psychic boy Caesar Gabriel. Boy had hysterics. Christ.

Received note: "From Eroica with love, to my dear Major: I am going to take your 'cultural inheritance of the nation’ tonight. Watch out. Eroica." Cussed out subordinate who brought note in. That'll teach him.

Nobody but that curly-haired son-of-a-bitch would do this kind of foppish thing! V. conceited of him, wanted felon, visiting me in broad daylight! Of all things, how dare he come after my things!

Wouldn't give out even a burnt matchstick if he wanted it! Hate that conceited narcissism of his.

Put heavy guard around embassy. Eroica's coming to steal our national art.

Interpol weirdo Tarao Bannai showed up disguised as mysterious mendicant Zen priest. Told A to call London Zoo and ask them to pick him up.

Called me "what's-his-von-face"! Offered to drill missile into his skull.

Caesar had hysterics over not getting to see curly-haired bugger. Humph.

J had gall to say army might be a little too much for a petty art thief. Announced that anyone who objects will be sent to Alaska.

F told me Tarao Bannai was making noise outside. Ordered subordinates to leave him alone. 'S weird anyway.

Foppish queer gassed Embassy! Damn it! Ordered subordinates not to breathe. They did anyway. Idiots.

Big fool, going through that much trouble just for one damned picture. Humph.

Day Four

All stingy-bug sees when he looks at "The Man In Purple" is mass of money. All Major sees is mass of iron. What I have to live with.

Turns out Caesar was at Embassy. If had known, would have stolen him too.

Offered to trade "Man In Purple" for Caesar, as Caesar could kiss back if conscious, unlike "Man In Purple".

Major refused, wants revenge. Is being like himself. Will be like myself and steal what I want.

Interrogated "psychic" boy re Eroica's whereabouts. Boy had hysterics. Humph.

Foppish thief offered to swap pumpkin pants painting for Caesar. My turn to take something he wants! Will never give fop anything he wants! Hah!

Day Five

Cannot believe this day.

Started normally, with successful theft. Disguised as drab military type. (Note to self: save uniform for romantic evening sometime.) Slugged bald Lieutenant Colonel. Serves him right for not having hair. Snatched Caesar. Boy fainted, perhaps from awe at witnessing me change out of stuffy uniform into sleeveless shirt and casual slacks while simultaneously driving Lamborghini at high speed. (Don't know how Major can stand wearing these all the time. Perhaps Major’s wardrobe explains Major’s personality.)

Major showed up, chasing me... in a TANK. A TANK. Just to get me! A mere art thief! V. flattering! Major v. wonderful. But I’ll never surrender!

Caesar came to, saw tank, passed out again. Getting tiresome.

Escaped daringly to tiny North Sea island. Stingy-bug unimpressed by my heroics; reminded me my life insurance is minimal. Stingy-bug is reason my life insurance is minimal.

Major shot Autobahn full of potholes, then got Lamborghini. Had to stop. Shot out tank radio when Major got out, put us on equal footing. Go me!

Caesar freezing, so we all got inside tank. Turns out I shot out tank heater too. Machines so inartistic.

Asked Major to take off jacket. Closet case squealed, "Are you trying to strip me and rape me?!" He wishes. Explained didn't want Caesar to get pneumonia.

Wrapped Caesar in uniform jacket. Was rather cute with all those officer thingies on him.

Caesar still shivering. Had to use body heat to warm him. Closet case v. squiffy over it. Didn't blame him. Three men hugging in a cramped tank. I felt funny too.

Told me to talk, but said to avoid indecent subjects. Offered to sing torch song. Major refused, requested something healthy and cheerful. Offered to sing German national anthem. Major went into snit.

Told him to sing something. Major said I wouldn't like it. Told him I'd endure it.

...Major has v. nice baritone, actually.

Sang WWII tank song. V. beautiful song. Surprising.

Major really likes a mass of iron. Said color of highly polished steel also a v. beautiful thing.

Iron Klaus is human being. Who knew.

Was v. tired. Major's nice muscled shoulder handy, so leaned on it. Major had fit, said wasn't singing lullaby. Told him this first time was chased by tank. Major said we're enemies. Told him we were under truce.

Major shut up and coped. About time.

Major's men showed up before mine. He wins. Darn.

Major left, took Caesar. Told me to guard tank, said he didn't think anyone fancied stealing it.

I am v. fanciful man.

Called team to bring tanker. Took tank, left "Man In Purple". Was fair trade; items of equal value.

From tanker, sent message: "Good luck, from Eroica with love." Major doubtless burst blood vessel. Wish could have seen.

Mr. James doesn't understand aesthetics of steel.

Think a tank is a rather nice thing, after all.

Major will probably come after me w/ missile next time.

V. irritating day.

Took Caesar to Bonn. Lt. Colonel Otto Reinevalt met plane. Was scrunching neck down suspiciously, so knocked hat off. Idiot trying to hide bald head. Explained to blithering moron that a man should not worry about his hair. If was my subordinate, would be in Alaska. Humph.

Curly-haired bugger snatched psychic boy! Will never forgive him! Will follow him no matter where!

Chased Eroica's Lamborghini down Autobahn in newly-developed model: Leopard B-1. Has completely automatic operation. Can attack all by myself! Ahhhh, tanks....

Honored foppish idiot by using him for practice target. Couldn't resist. Leopards rule.

Art thief did pretty well. Escaped into North Sea.

Disabled flashy non-German car with shot from tank. Eroica was cornered rat. Go me!

Curly-haired bugger shot out tank's controls. Jerk.

Psychic boy started freezing. Wimp. Lacks virility. No good unless you discipline him.

Foppish queer made me take off my jacket. Claimed just didn't want Caesar to freeze. Humph. Next part of queer's diabolical plan was to make me come close to keep sissy boy warm.

V. awkward. Told fop to talk if he could avoid indecent subjects. Idiot offered to sing love song. Humph. Also offered German national anthem. The nerve.

Had to take change and sing Panzerlied. Curly-haired idiot actually liked it. Go figure.

Don't know what happened. Frostbite to brain, perhaps. Or post-sedative effects from verdammt thief's sleeping gas. Went foppish and said, "The color of highly-polished steel is also a v. beautiful thing, you know."

Came to senses, but was too late. Curly-haired son-of-a-bitch played the baby, cuddling up to me. Don't know how I stood it.

My subordinates arrived first. I win. Go me.

Idiots brought small helicopter. No room for foppish thief. Could not stand his fucking perfume anymore anyway. Left him with tank.

Was going to come back and arrest fop later, but realized tank was in danger.

Son of a bitch stole my tank! Really did it! What a man. Son of a bitch. Even left me that brat to take care of.

My obsession could be hunting down man like him. V. good enemy. Will definitely catch him.

Day Six


Reported to idiot superiors: Caesar not psychic. A mere genius.

Suppose pumpkin pants painting must be v. good. All that fuss. Huh.




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