Chapter One

Mr Vogel was sitting quietly by his untidy desk‚ and the desk was standing quietly by its careless owner.
Mr Vogel wasn’t surprised in the least‚ because he had built the desk himself. He knew very well that it couldn’t speak. The desk didn’t look surprised either.
It is a pretty ugly desk‚ Mr Vogel thought‚ but he still found it rather charming with its slightly unsymmetrical drawers and its legs in different lengths.
The desk looked dark and old. Mr Vogel liked that; he had always had an interest in antiques.
His desk was probably what he liked best with his office. The desk and his electric pencil-sharpener; it was really great.

He was sitting comfortable‚ leaning back‚ in his chair with his feet balancing on the edge of the wastepaper basket. All the time with the wastebasket about to fall over. Mr Vogel knows‚ nowadays‚ that if he happens to bend his feet‚ even the slightest‚ the wastepaper basket will fall over and he will probably get one of his feet stuck in it …again.

He had become rather good at balancing his feet on the edge. But the goal that he was dreaming of‚ twenty minutes‚ seemed devastatingly impossible. It was now soon eight months ago since his ex-girlfriend‚ Cecilia‚ had told him that they were not going to see each other anymore. She had told him that if he couldn’t learn how to keep control of himself and stay calm‚ there was no meaning for them to spend time together…

‘What?’ He had answered‚ ‘I am calm‚ aren’t I?!’

‘No‚ you’re not‚’ Cecelia sighed. ‘You can’t even keep your concentration for ten minutes‚ even less stay calm!’

‘I can’t keep my concentration?!’ Mr Vogel yelled and lifted one of his feet from the ground. ‘Then watch this!’

Ha! I’ll make her eat her own words! He thought. In the corner of his eye he saw a banana skin lying on the ground‚ and his mind began wandering. Who can possibly be so lazy that he or maybe even a she… Well‚ anyway‚ so lazy that … Yes it could of course be a she; He saw a girl eating a banana as late as yesterday… Well anyway… that he (or she) throws it on the ground when there’s a litter-bin standing only a few yards away?

While thinking this he completely forgot that he was standing on one leg and then of course suffered the usual punishment for those who forget that they are standing on one leg. He fell to the ground.

He felt how his brain started to boil. Furious he leapt over to the banana skin and yelled at it. When it refused to apologize he began to insult it and put curses on it. It just kept refusing.

After a while Mr Vogel finally got a grip over himself and started shamefully walking away. He didn’t turn back‚ because he knew that Cecelia had already gone inside‚ closed the door and locked it. He could almost feel the banana skin lying back there and laugh scornfully at him. That was too much. He ran back to the banana skin and gave it a couple of punches. Take that! He thought and went reasonable proud home.

Mr Vogel had been sitting like this many times before‚ the left foot on top of the right. Always the left on top‚ otherwise he would get all cross and wouldn’t enjoy it.

Mr Vogel twinkled tiredly with his eyes. He wasn’t up for this much longer. He glazed at his cheep‚ but neat‚ digital watch. It was almost five o’clock.

He put one of his fingers on one of the buttons and pressed it until the timer showed.
Mr Vogel’s left eyebrow went up slightly‚ as did the toes in his left shoe.
The wastepaper basket started to tilt.
Mr Vogel’s right eyebrow went up. He quickly tried to straighten his toes‚ but it was to late.
Mr Vogel’s right foot leapt quickly‚ against his will‚ down into the basket‚ and then a bit further until it finally stopped and was stuck. The word “darn!” leapt very quickly‚ also that against Mr Vogel’s will‚ out from his mouth and hovered a while in the room‚ and then once more‚ just a bit more powerful. Twenty minutes was impossible! Every time the same thing‚ it was a curse‚ he was certain of it.

Mildly depressed he walked away from his work‚ just as usual. Mr Vogel stopped at the bus stop where his bus was to drive by. It was Fred who drove the bus today.

Fred‚ whose name actually was Fredric Carsten‚ was a man. A bit more precisely: he was a man who almost lived next door to Mr Vogel. Fredric Carsten and Mr Vogel were about the same age and had about the same interests. That is: he likes to go down to the pub and drink obscene amounts of beer and then force‚ often tragic‚ stories about his life upon people who just happens to be there.

The bus was as usual not on time but arrived just as you were about to leave and take a cab instead‚ because the bus never arrives. They probably do that just to tease people‚ Mr Vogel thought‚ it’s probably one of the few ways that a bus driver can have any fun. Mr Vogel continued to think about the subject. Well‚ they could of course put on a pair of sunglasses and have one of those sticks that blind people use standing by the steering wheel‚ he thought. That could be fun. If it wasn’t for all the kids that run around and scream all the time‚ it might actually be fun to work as a bus driver. Mr Vogel stepped on board. Two rather loud bangs were heard when he walked up the two steps of the old bus. They were probably not designed to be walked on wearing a wastepaper basked on one foot.

‘Not today either?’ Fred asked looking down at Mr Vogel’s right foot.

‘Nope.’ Mr Vogel answered grumpily. ‘The pub later this evening?’

‘As soon as I go off my shift.’ Fred said in a cheerful tone. ‘So I’ll probably be there just after seven.’

Mr Vogel paid for his journey.

‘I’m sorry that you had to wait so long for the bus again‚’ Fred continued‚ ‘but to tease with the travelers is one of the few ways that we bus drivers can have a bit of fun.’

Mr Vogel nodded a bit irritated. So people are going to steal my thoughts now are they? Well we shall see about that!

‘Well‚ we can of course…’

‘Put on a pair of sunglasses?’ Mr Vogel interrupted quickly.

Fred was confused. ‘Precisely.’ He tried to remember what to say. He remembered; ‘And…’

‘Have one of those sticks that blind people use?’

‘Yes…’

‘Standing by the steering wheel?’

‘Err… yes. That…’

‘Could be fun?’

‘Yes…’

Fred was very confused at this point. After a while in silence he said ‘Here is the change.’
‘Thank you.’

Mr Vogel sat himself down on an empty seat and angled his legs so that there was room for the basket.

He went of the bus pretty near his home and walked the short remaining bit to his house.
It wasn’t an eye-catching house in any way. It was rather small and was made of red‚ or rather reddish‚ bricks. It had a small garden and an apple tree standing in a corner. A green meter-high hedge surrounded the house except for the side facing the road.

Mr Vogel checked his mailbox before he went inside. The day’s mail only consisted of advertisements‚ but he wasn’t expecting anything else.
He went inside and took of his coat.

‘Hello!’ Said the carpet in the hall.

This‚ which should have shocked anyone‚ didn’t surprise Mr Vogel at all. The carpet usually does that.

‘Hello.’ He answered.

Mr Vogel had never understood why his carpet talked. He was only sure of one thing‚ and that was that he wasn’t crazy. Even though there was some evidence for just that‚ like that he now and then sees pink elephants come running into his garden and scrump apples from his beloved apple tree… and that he is talking to his carpet.

He managed to get the basket of his foot and then went off for a bit of hunting in the refrigerator.

Later that day (or if it was the next day‚ he wasn’t sure) Mr Vogel stood in front of his bathroom mirror. He looked into the mirror and saw a man in his thirties with a rather angular‚ unshaved‚ face. The Man had brown hair and blue eyes. That is a pretty good description of me so I suppose that it is me that I am looking at‚ he thought and continued to look in the mirror.

He could look out of his bathroom window through the mirror. A dragon flew past the window. Mr Vogel stopped investigating his bathroom. I only see dragons in two occasions. Either I’m drunk or I’m dreaming… possibly booth.
The dragon flew past the window again and landed on his lawn. It breathed fire trough its nostrils and burned down Mr Vogel’s apple tree.

Now isn’t that typical? He thought and passed out.

He woke up again with a gentle scream. He looked around and was rather astonished to find himself sitting in a pile of ashes where his beloved apple tree used to stand. He looked at his watch. It had only passed a few hours‚ not a few days as it felt like. He had experienced a very real but very odd dream.

In this dream the dragon had picked him up and flown a long way.

Mr Vogel had been put of in a desolated rocky area with only a pathway of steps leading up one of the mountains. The steps had been directly carved out from the brown rock. He started the clime and counted the steps as he went along. He of course lost count as his mind wandered of elsewhere.

He finally arrived at a large temple completely built of socks. Thousands and thousands of socks piled on each other. He recognized a few of them and thought: so that’s where all my socks that disappears in the tumble-drier goes‚ and everybody else’s too it seems.

He walked trough a big gate and entered a huge room with lit candles all over the place. In the other end of the temple sat a small Buddhist monk with his legs crossed on a yellow pillow.

Great‚ just what I need: a Buddhist in a temple of socks‚ Mr Vogel thought embittered. He was starting to get angry‚ now this is silly.
He walked over to the little man. After that a very strange game that Mr Vogel didn’t enjoy at all.

It appeared that the meaning of the game was to take turns to insult the other and make him angry‚ without losing control of yourself. If you got angry or in any other way lost your calm an apple would fall out of nowhere and hit you in the head.
It seemed to take ages but gradually Mr Vogel learned how to stay calm. He looked at the big pile of apples beside him. He was getting very tired at having all the apples fall on his head. This made him angry‚ and before he knew it another apple had hit him in the head.

He picked up one of the apples and took a few bites. He then threw it as hard as he could towards the gate of the temple. It didn’t reach the entrance but landed among the candles to the left and knocked over a dozen or so.

The Buddhist monk who had been sitting calmly on his pillow with a smile on his lips the whole time got very upset when he saw what happened. He was just about to say something when an apple hit him on the head.

Mr Vogel‚ who thought this was very funny‚ laughed malicious at the monk. For doing this he received another falling apple. That made him mad and another apple fell from nowhere.

Much the same way things continued for a long long time. But eventually Mr Vogel had become an expert on concentration and calm.

He had also learned more about curses and insults than anyone else on the planet. Not even this monk could stand in his way now. Mr Vogel was to calm.

He brushed some ashes from his clothes and went inside to get some sleep.
The next day he started seeing Cecelia again. Everything was fine. He never lost control over himself and never got angry. To balance his feet on the wastepaper basket was as easy as to say the word “wow” backwards‚ which he did quite often.

Everything was fine except that Cecelia started to behave more and more strange. She started to loose control over herself once every now and then and she started to do more and more things trying to upset Mr Vogel. But whatever she did‚ he remained calm.

One day when they were out in the park she was so fed up with the ever so calm Mr Vogel so she screamed: ‘I can’t take this anymore!’

‘Take what?’ He asked calmly.

‘You can’t walk along and be calm all the bloody time!’

‘Yes I can‚’ he replied‚ ‘it is very simple really.’

‘No!’

‘Yes.’

‘NO!’

‘Yes.’

‘Stop saying ‘yes’ all the time!’

‘No.’

‘YES!’

‘No.’

She gave up a scream.

‘I hate you‚ and I never want to se you again!’ She screamed as she ran angrily out of sight.

Mr Vogel started to walk back home. What she had just said didn’t affect him at all. He just kept walking. He was perfectly calm.

This is what he thought: I’ll probably read a book. I think I will start with that excellent book ‘The Hitch-Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’.

A tribute to Douglas Noel Adams by Christofer E. Hydén (In this case: CallMeCeh alias ___‚‚‚^..^‚‚‚___)