Nichts is absurder als die Realität
from Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett:
R.P Tyler, only ten minutes away from the village, paused, while Shitzi attempted another of its wide range of eliminatory functions. He gazed over the fence.
His knowledge of country lore was a little hazybut he felt fairly sure that if the cows lay down, it meant rain. If they were standing it would probably be fine. These cows were taking it in turns to execute slow and solemn somersaults; and Tyler wondered what it presaged for the weather.
He sniffed. Something was burining - there was an unpleasant smell of scorched metal and rubber and leather.
"Excuse me," said a voice from behind him. R.P Tylor turned around.
There was a large once-black car on fire in the lane and a man in sunglasses was leaning out of one window, saying through the smoke, "I'm sorry, I've managed to get a little lost. Can you direct me to Lower Tadfield Air Base? I know it's around here somewhere."
Your car is on fire.
No. Tyler just couldn't bring himself to say it. I mean, the man had to know that, didn't he? He was sitting in the midddle of it. Possibly it ws some kind of practical joke.
So instead he said, "I think you must have taken a wrong turn about a mile back. A signpost has blown down."
The stranger smiled, "That must be it," he said. The orangle flames flickering below him gave him an almost infernal appearance.
The wind blew towards Tyler, across the car, and he felt his eyebrows frizzle.
Excuse me, young man, but your car is on fire and you're sitting in it without burning and incidentally it's red hot in some places.
No.
Should he ask the man if he wanted him to phone the A. A.?
Instead he explained the route carefully, trying not to stare.
"That's terrific. Much obliged," said Crowley, as he began to wind up the window.
R.P. Tyler had to say something.
"Excuse me, young man," he said.
"Yes?"
I mean, it's not the kind of thing you don't notice, your car being on fire.
A tongue of flame licked across the charred dashboard.
"Funny weather we're having, isn't it? he said, lamely.
"Is it?" said Crowley. "I honestly hadn't noticed." And he reversed back down the country lane in his burining car.
"That's probably because your car is on fire," said R.P. Tyler sharply. He jerked Shutzi's lead, dragged the little dog to heel.
To The Editor
Sir;
I would like to draw your attention to a recent tendency I have noticed for today's young people to ignore perfectly sensible safety precautions while driving. This evening I was asked for directions by a gentleman whose car was...
No.
Driving a car that...
No.
It was on fire....
His temper getting worse, R.P Tyler stomped the final stretch back into the village.
R.P Tyler, only ten minutes away from the village, paused, while Shitzi attempted another of its wide range of eliminatory functions. He gazed over the fence.
His knowledge of country lore was a little hazybut he felt fairly sure that if the cows lay down, it meant rain. If they were standing it would probably be fine. These cows were taking it in turns to execute slow and solemn somersaults; and Tyler wondered what it presaged for the weather.
He sniffed. Something was burining - there was an unpleasant smell of scorched metal and rubber and leather.
"Excuse me," said a voice from behind him. R.P Tylor turned around.
There was a large once-black car on fire in the lane and a man in sunglasses was leaning out of one window, saying through the smoke, "I'm sorry, I've managed to get a little lost. Can you direct me to Lower Tadfield Air Base? I know it's around here somewhere."
Your car is on fire.
No. Tyler just couldn't bring himself to say it. I mean, the man had to know that, didn't he? He was sitting in the midddle of it. Possibly it ws some kind of practical joke.
So instead he said, "I think you must have taken a wrong turn about a mile back. A signpost has blown down."
The stranger smiled, "That must be it," he said. The orangle flames flickering below him gave him an almost infernal appearance.
The wind blew towards Tyler, across the car, and he felt his eyebrows frizzle.
Excuse me, young man, but your car is on fire and you're sitting in it without burning and incidentally it's red hot in some places.
No.
Should he ask the man if he wanted him to phone the A. A.?
Instead he explained the route carefully, trying not to stare.
"That's terrific. Much obliged," said Crowley, as he began to wind up the window.
R.P. Tyler had to say something.
"Excuse me, young man," he said.
"Yes?"
I mean, it's not the kind of thing you don't notice, your car being on fire.
A tongue of flame licked across the charred dashboard.
"Funny weather we're having, isn't it? he said, lamely.
"Is it?" said Crowley. "I honestly hadn't noticed." And he reversed back down the country lane in his burining car.
"That's probably because your car is on fire," said R.P. Tyler sharply. He jerked Shutzi's lead, dragged the little dog to heel.
To The Editor
Sir;
I would like to draw your attention to a recent tendency I have noticed for today's young people to ignore perfectly sensible safety precautions while driving. This evening I was asked for directions by a gentleman whose car was...
No.
Driving a car that...
No.
It was on fire....
His temper getting worse, R.P Tyler stomped the final stretch back into the village.