Korridorium

♫ Hypnotic Attic ♫

10/398

I enter the corridor and open the door to the living room. However, in this room, nothing is really what it seems to be.

For instance, the door is, in reality, a book titled “Snowmen Rarely Make Good Cigarette Lighters.” The armchair is a traffic warden named Edna Gierke. The other chair is a stool, but the family always calls it “the ottoman.” The grandfather clock is a display case for the patriarch Wasmuth’s collection of algae schnitzels, which looks like a lampshade but is, in fact, the room’s carpet.

For instance, the door is, in reality, a book titled Snowmen Rarely Make Good Cigarette Lighters. The armchair is a meter maid named Edna Gierke. The other chair is a stool, but the family always calls it “the ottoman.” The grandfather clock is a display case for the patriarch Wasmuth’s collection of algae schnitzels; Wasmuth himself looks like a lampshade but is, in fact, the room’s carpet.

The piano, strictly speaking, is a spinet made by the Gellwiesen company, now known in the USA as BELLOWMEADOW for its exquisite cookies. The blue wall color is the smell of boiled cabbage, and the painting on the wall is a photo of Mirna and her kitten, titled Women and Cats First. Did I forget something? Yes, the man standing lost in the room is indeed the bailiff; however, his name is Herbert Brünnchen, and he entered through the light switch, which is actually the kitchen pass-through.

The living room itself, just to mention it, may seem like an enclosed space, but it’s actually a newspaper article with the sensational headline, “Is the Whole of Schwabingen Infested with Trichinella?”

Trichinella: