While falling towards the ground, flames and twisted wreckage become visible. People mill about with bags from shops. Two people go by on bikes. What have they stolen? Overhead wires for the trolleys and a lady with a white hat, she's pretty old probably. Who does that?
Italian guy with a chip on his shoulder and hairy wrists on his arms,
driving through the city and through the ocean.
He is just making a living.
"Gasp," gasps the woman in the white hat. "Oh my. Mon Dieu. A Negro. Un Nègre."
But engineers are hard at work on a solution. It takes the form of a pendulum undulating through yellow space. The Italian man demonstrates this idea by rolling a ball bearing around a shallow, concave ashtray.
"Here are some magnets," he explains, rolling the ball bearing around. A plate placed atop the ball bearings remains suspended without trouble. Production commences in a Nordic fashion.
Tires become apparent as a source of blue energy,
conferring upon the riders a sense of well-being
and space shuttle volition.
Passengers will blast into traffic
with the assurance that the world they leave behind
is enriched beyond measure by their mission. (plus formidable)
But smokestacks tend to produce this energy as well. And that's where U-pipes come in. This man in the glasses is a U-pipe specialist. He climbs through the freezer towards the red-hot U-pipe control center. Parallel pipe ends toot a modest melody (un chanson simple). The blast of the shuttle kicks up clouds of powdered salt.
Now there are giant ashtrays being molded, gargantuan ball bearings being conceptualized.
A machine grinds wheat into a gritty powder
to adorn the edges of the trays;
yellow hydraulic Italians
thrust and press them into place.
Before long they are going up on street corners everywhere.
Beams made of compressed sand sit on a small whoopee cushion. A serious looking man in glasses explains why the superstructure of the building, which was supposed to be steel, ended up being comprised of beams of salt. Smoking taxis litter the freeways and countryside with patches of salt and oil. Now a sympathetic Negro flees a white man's house, deterred by the local ashtray, which one can rent for 8.99 on the month (contre-Nègre par mois). Call right away + receive complimentary old white woman.