I was watching TV. Together
with the Bulgarian. My wife. The match is hot. And extremely important. “Steaua” (a
Romanian football team) was playing against a famous team. Whose name I do not
recall. When Hagi was preparing to score a goal worth millions, the telephone
started twanging and bouncing on the table.
Wanting
to witness the marking of the first point, I did not pick up the receiver. On
the field – terrible squash, a real madhouse. When our boy kicked the ball, the
ovations in the stadium went wild, causing the resonance to amplify. My
windows, my glass of water and the TV screen were vibrating. And then I started
screaming too, enthusiastically grabbing the receiver.
‘Gooooaaal! Goooaal!... One to zero for us! And zero to
one for the wretched. Serves them right, dallying and kicking in the legs of
our players... .’
But the device continued to
ring, making my ears hurt. Startled, I carefully examined what was it that I
grabbed. It was the reading lamp. Metallic and rather out of order. It was in
its shade that I had expressed my satisfaction. When I put it back to its
place, it electrocuted me just fine. Howling in pain and fretting, I
disperately pulled the lace. The plug went out of the socket, releasing a
beautiful blue flame. And some smoke. But in the next second, everyting was in
order. I was alive. And had no electricity. Because all the fuses were burnt. I
rapidly replaced them with a piece of clothes line and in a few moments
electricity was back. And, in a few moments afterwards, the central lighting panel was out
of order. But I fixed everything in a breath. Changing a fuse with a nail. Of
five millimetres. And then the electricity was back on!
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