<span style="font-weight: bold">The Puppeteer</span><br/><br/>Finally the house returned to some calmness. He was angry about it being destroyed again, didn't he put all the money and effort in it to restore it the last months and now look at it? Well, he would have to start renovations again, what a pity. At least the money wasn't worrying him, he had enough of that. With actually nothing happening at all in the house, everybody just licking the wounds, he had time to return to his memories. Memories of his youth with Jenny and Sam or the times when his mother returned from one of her films and his father had made a party to celebrate her homecoming. It had always been the best times, his most cherished memories. He had not tried to remember them so much while he had been with them. It had been too hurting to think of how his mother had wrapped her arms around him and hugged her to his chest, kissing him all over, when you are locked into a room and you know that your mother was rotting in the ground.<br/><br/>He remembered when he had come home from school all agitated one day with Jenny. They had planned to practice their puppet play of jungle book that afternoon and he had looked forward to it all day long, eager to finally show Jenny how good he was with pulling the right strings to make Balou dance. They had walked up to the front door and then the door had suddenly opened and his mother had stepped out, totally unexpected as she should have had four more days of film-making ahead and he had started running and jumped into the wide open arms of his mom and they had danced together round and round while she had kissed him until his entire face had been wet. Jenny had walked up shyly to the front door, clearly embarassed by the tall actress standing there in front of her and kissing her best friend and then Kate had bent down to her, all the sly, intrigueing lady she had played so often in her films, and whispered just loud enough in the girl's ear, so that he could have heard it too. 'And you must be Jenny. I haven't heard another name more often on the telephone than yours. Jenny here, Jenny there, Jenny is so wonderful, Jenny is such a good friend, you should meet Jenny, you will like Jenny. I had already worried that I come home and you two are already married and I am a grandma...'. Jenny had giggled and he had been standing there all flushed beet-red and he had just hoped that the earth would open up and would swallow this totally embarassed twelve year old boy. From that day on Jenny had belonged to the family. Oh god, Jenny, why can't you remember all those wonderful moments we had?