Fast Food for Slow People
Suddenly the telephone rang. Nobody picked it up. Danielsen had a really bad headache now. Ulla had not written to him since that evening in Chicago. Goodness, how he missed her! Thankfully he had the piano music. Piano music is the life, Ulla, he said laconically. He checked his e-mail.
One day the doorbell rang. A little pussycat was standing there. The cat looked incredibly sweet, but it had a language so terrible that it made him blush and cover his ears. Or he
found other ways to drown out the sounds, like turning on the vacuum cleaner, although the place was as clean as possible, or he checked if the drill had battery power left. But the
pussycat of course understood what he was up to, so it just waited with saying what it had to say until he stopped making noise.
A guy with a yellow cap walked by, and swung his arms wildly while leaning back at the same time. Then he stopped and had a smoke. Good that I don’t smoke, not so often at least, he thought to himself.
The sound of a trumpet filled the place. Applause was heard. This must be a recording from a concert, he thought. He recognized the music. It was The Musical Sugar Top.
Wish I was in Sweden now, he thought. Or not in Sweden, but on the way to Sweden.
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