Bungalow wore a heavy green coat to keep him warm. That was important because it gets bitterly cold in the city at night. Drops of water hung from the hem of the coat and fine snow crystals gathered on his shoulders. He strode hurriedly along the pavement, looking around attentively. He buried his hands deep in his pockets despite his thick gloves. Then finally, far at the end of the street, he saw what he was looking for. He quickened his steps until he was almost running and finally, after sliding the last few metres on the ice, stopped in front of a very old and very run-down car. He looked down at frozen sheet metal that must have once been painted blue. Now the paint had peeled off in many places and was covered in ice crystals. Bungalow stroked it gently with his thick gloves. At the front of the car, the bumper was missing and as he walked around the car, he also noticed the bent door. The window was cracked. He stroked the remaining right rear-view mirror and then tampered with one of the tyres. With a large open-ended spanner, he applied the rusted screws and fiddled around a bit until the tyre could finally be turned again.
Then came the strenuous part: Bungalow laced his shoes tighter and shifted his gloves. Then he braced himself with all his weight against the boot of the car. It rolled off.
It was a huge effort and again and again Bungalow had to run forward to get the tyres back in the right direction. But the biggest obstacle was still ahead of him: the big road. It lived up to its name, for it was indeed the biggest street in the city. It had eight lanes for each direction and Bungalow could already see it in the distance. In the meantime, the sun had risen and a bustle had set in on the streets of the city.
As he approached it, he passed a small shop selling peaches with a hand-lettered board advertising their outstanding freshness. A man in a hat came out of it and when he saw Bungalow behind the old car, he asked, „What are you doing?“
Bungalow, completely absorbed in his strenuous work, looked up. The man in the hat was still looking at him questioningly. Bungalow thought for a moment, then replied, „I’m pushing this car.“
The man in the hat nodded appreciatively. When he said nothing in reply, Bungalow pulled his gloves into place and turned back to the car. Then the man spoke again, „I just bought some very fresh peaches.“
Bungalow, who had been about to push on, looked up again. The man in the hat looked at him and pointed to a basket he was carrying, which must have contained said peaches. „I’m glad to hear that,“ said Bungalow, who wasn’t actually that interested in peaches. The man’s conversational volume seemed greater than that, however, for he strode up to Bungalow and extended his free hand to him. „My name is Wurunder. Mr Wurunder. Actually Wurunder-Kobatchek, my wife and I could not agree on either surname. She was born Kobatchek, that is her mother’s name. Her father’s surname was originally Fogel. Fogel spelt with an F. Stuff there`s“
He said all this in about the time it takes an express train to pass a small station. About four seconds.
Bungalow stared at him in amazement. Why was the man with the hat telling him all this? He felt he had to say something too, so he decided on a simple but informative answer: „I am Bungalow.“
He briefly shook the hand of the man in the hat, who opened his mouth and now probably came to the real reason for the conversation: „My wife, I already told you about her, is so terribly fond of peaches. It’s best when they’re very fresh. Today is her birthday and she is having a lavish breakfast at home with her friends. Everything is very finely laid out. I would like to surprise her with these especially fresh peaches. In this basket there are exceptionally fresh peaches, you know.“
Bungalow only looked at him with an expressionless face. The man, albeit somewhat unsettled, continued: „I live right over there, behind the big road. However, just now, as soon as I crossed the big road, the pedestrian lights went out. Now if you would push me in their car to the other side of the road, that would be a great help, then as a pedestrian without traffic lights, it’s way too risky!“
Under Bungalow’s gaze, the man in the hat had grown smaller and smaller, but Bungalow’s outwardly rough appearance was often deceptive. He was a helpful and good-natured man. „All right,“ he said. The man in the hat wanted to retort something, but Bungalow was quicker. He grabbed the man by the jacket, lifted him up, opened the passenger door with his free hand and shifted him onto the seat. Then he closed the door, afraid the man in the hat might keep talking.
He went back to the boot and adjusted his gloves and was about to push off when someone tapped him on the shoulder. „Excuse me,“ said a sharp voice. Bungalow looked around and in front of him was a short man in a suit looking up at him. „Degel my name, Professor Degel. I teach marine biology at the university back there. Unfortunately, the pedestrian lights seem to be out temporarily, so I wanted to ask you politely to push me in your car to the other side of the big road. I would, of course, show my gratitude,“ he said, rummaging in his wallet, pulling out a card and thrusting it into Bungalow’s hand. He read aloud: „Dachshund club card, Friends of Dachshunds and related clubs for those who care for Dachshunds.“
„What is this please and what am I supposed to do with it?“ Bungalow asked.
„Oh,“ replied the professor, „that’s my club card. You get a free pretzel with it for every purchase of 5 euros or more at the Vollmer bakery. The owner, Mrs Vollmer, née Daremp, is on the board of the club.“
With these words, he walked past Bungalow to the car and sat down in the driver’s seat. Bungalow continued to stand in the cold, not even daring to turn towards the car again, and sure enough: just as he was putting his hands against the boot, he heard a voice call out, „How convenient! A man pushing a car! Just what I was hoping for!“
Bungalow looked around frowning. There, not two metres from him, was a man in a yellow helmet with a wheelbarrow so fully loaded that the tyre was already flat. „You were… hoping to see a man pushing a car?“ asked Bungalow, raising his eyebrows so that they disappeared under his cap. The man in the helmet nodded. „Yes, that’s exactly what I was hoping. Will you help me load up quickly? I need to get across the street,“ and with those words he stepped past Bungalow to the boot. Just then the driver’s door opened and the professor emerged. „The man in the hat refuses to turn off the radio. I find such noise unbearable!“ he shouted over the roof of the car to Bungalow. Just then the passenger door opened. „The peaches need some background music, otherwise they lose their freshness!“. Glaring angrily, the man in the hat looked over the roof at the professor. While the man in the helmet opened the boot and began to stow the contents of the wheelbarrow inside, the professor started: „That’s complete nonsense! I teach marine biology and I can assure you that music has no effect on peaches!“
„As if thy knew anything about it!“ The man in the hat was furious, „since when do peaches grow in the sea? You may know about fish, but you know precious little about peaches!“
„Fish?!“ howled the professor in a huff, „Fish he says? Marine biology is far more than just FISH!“
That’s when the man in the helmet who had finished loading the boot interfered: „Why don’t you meet in the middle and just keep the music down. Then the peaches will be happy and the professor won’t suffer too much.“
The man in the helmet was powerfully built and so neither of the two squabblers dared to contradict him. They trudged back to their seats and the man in the helmet now opened the door to the back seat and folded one of the seats back to squeeze his wheelbarrow into the car. Then, for reasons of space, he sat down in that very wheelbarrow and pulled the car door shut behind him.
Bungalow adjusted his gloves, but he did it rather half-heartedly, and sure enough: already footsteps were getting louder, coming towards him. „Wait,“ a voice called. Bungalow didn’t even turn around, but only said: „There’s still room on the back seat on the left. Next to the man in the wheelbarrow.“
Who could it be this time? „I’m a student!“ came the prompt reply, just as if Bungalow’s thoughts were written in large illuminated letters on the front of the house.
The student walked past him and opened the door to the back seat: „Good day you guys, I’m studying something with fish!“
With these words he swung himself into the remaining seat on the back bench. He pulled the door shut behind him as the professor spoke up from the front, „What did you just say?“
The student looked up, „I’m studying something with fish,“ he repeated. The professor turned backwards in his seat and the blush of anger rose to his face. „The subject you are studying is called marine biology, if you please! It’s nothing to do with fish, it’s a branch of biology that deals with the complex processes in marine habitats!“
The man in the wheelbarrow spoke up, „So it’s sort of about fish and how they live, right?“
The professor looked as if he might explode at any moment. Then the student pricked up his ears: „Oh, what’s playing on the radio? Could you turn it up a bit?“ That was too much for the professor. He jumped out of the door and stomped wildly on the floor. They watched him for a while until the man in the wheelbarrow raised his voice: „Now come back inside so we can finally get going, I think the man with the hat is in a hurry. His peaches are just losing freshness.“
The man in the hat nodded eagerly in agreement.
The professor obeyed but was still visibly dissatisfied and so he chose to fold his arms in his seat and sulk. Just then the passenger door opened. All four looked up and the man in the wheelbarrow banged his helmet against the ceiling. Standing outside the door was an old man with a long beard and a bagpipe in his arms. „The man pushing the car told me I might be able to find a seat up front here.“
„No problem,“ the professor volunteered, „I’m sure the man in the hat can slide a little and they’ll both fit in the seat.“
The man in the hat turned to the professor indignantly, „And what if my peaches get crushed in the process? Not to mention that they’re losing more and more freshness while we’re waiting here.“
„Maybe the professor could make some room on his side?“ the student suggested. Then the man with the helmet from his wheelbarrow spoke up: „I once ate a lobster. It was very tasty but I was afraid of accidentally biting one of the claws. Sharp claws they have, these lobsters. I’m sure you know all about that, being a professor of fish and all.“
Then he leaned back in his wheelbarrow and looked out the window, unconcerned. „Where were we?“ asked the man in the hat.
„The young man in the back seat suggested I sit on the professor’s side,“ said the old man with bagpipes.
„That’s out of the question at all, the big steering wheel is in the way here!“ objected the professor. Then the man in the wheelbarrow woke up again and pulled a folding rule out of his pocket: „I have an idea,“ he announced and struggled to unfold the rule on the cramped back seat. He passed one end through to the professor and left the other sticking out of the open passenger door. He asked the old man his height and peered at the small numbers on the folding rule: „Fits perfectly!“ he gloated. „You can just lay horizontally across the professor’s legs and those of the man in the hat.“
„But how is he supposed to lay across our legs without squashing the bag containing the fresh peaches?“ the man in the hat enthused. „That’s no problem,“ the professor explained, „We’ll put the peaches outside for now and once the man with the bagpipes is properly tucked in, we can put the peaches on top of him.“
„That’s good!“ the construction worker praised, „Have you ever tried lobster?“
The professor overheard him. „But,“ objected the man in the hat, „then who puts the peaches on the man with bagpipes when we’re all sitting in here?“
„Oh!“ cried the student, „I can do that!“ and he got out and walked round the carriage. He received the peaches and watched as the man with his bagpipes crawled horizontally into the wagon. He then placed the peaches on top of the old man, threw the door into the lock and ran back to his place in the back seat. No sooner had he pulled the door shut behind him than he heard the professor complain: „I don’t want to offend them, because we’re close enough, but I’d appreciate it if you’d take the bagpipes out of my face.“
„I’m afraid that’s not possible right now,“ the old man apologised, „but I’ll try.“ With these words he began to turn the bagpipes to the left, one of the flutes getting caught in the spokes of the steering wheel. The old man gave up: „It’s stuck. Forever“ he said as matter-of-factly as he could. „The main thing is that the peaches are fine,“ said the man in the hat.
„Do thy actually only ever think about the peaches?“ the professor asked between clenched teeth. „Oh no,“ replied the man in the hat, „I also often think about my father-in-law’s house name. Fogel, spelled with an F. Stuff happens.“
He looked out of the window with interest. „Would you mind if I played my bagpipes a little?“ the old man asked into the silence. „Yes, it would,“ said the man in the hat, pointing to the basket of peaches with raised eyebrows. „They would certainly lose tremendous freshness with that kind of music“. The old man was silent, obviously offended. „Oh dear,“ said the student, glancing behind, and just then the boot lid opened. „Watch out ladder“ boomed a voice into the passenger compartment. The construction worker hunkered deeper into his wheelbarrow, the student leaned to the left and the man in the hat looked anxiously at his peaches as a wooden ladder was pushed lengthwise to the windscreen. Then, as far as it could go, the boot lid was folded back shut and the student’s door opened. „Fogel my name. Fogel facade cleaning. I can give you my number, but you can also find us in the phone book.“ With these words he put a bucket full of cleaning water in the footwell and the student felt water running down his shoes. „Now it’s getting cosy“, the facade cleaner said and squeezed into the back seat next to the student. The student had put his right arm between two ladder rungs to save space. The man in the hat looked back with interest: „Did you say your name was Fogel? Fogel with an F, by any chance?“
„Yes, indeed!“ said the facade cleaner in surprise. The man with the hat was beside himself: „Then you must know my father-in-law, whose house name was Fogel before he took my mother-in-law’s name, she was born Kobatchek!“
The facade cleaner looked confused for a moment, then understanding appeared on his face: „Ah, we misunderstood each other. My first name is Fogel.“
„I know that doesn’t really have anything to do with it now,“ the man in the wheelbarrow spoke up, „but have you ever tried lobster?“
He looked curiously over at the facade cleaner. But before he could answer, someone else had caught the attention of the passengers. A young woman had just knocked on the passenger door window. She was carrying a huge cactus in her arms. Hectically, the man in the hat rolled down the window. The construction worker turned his head forward and banged his helmet against the ceiling again.
„Excuse me, could you look after my cactus for a moment? I want to buy fresh peaches in that shop there but GreenGuy,“ she pointed at the cactus, „is banned from there.“
The student tried to brush through his hair, but his arm was stuck in the ladder. „Yes, no problem at all!“ he said with conviction.
The young woman with the cactus rejoiced, „Great. Where should I put it?“
The student looked a little dumb. „Well,“ the professor volunteered with a sardonic undertone in his voice, „I guess the student can hold it and take care of it while you shop.“
„That would be really nice,“ she said and turned back to the student. He smiled uncertainly, „Yeah um..sure, no problem“.
She beamed. Deftly she balanced the cactus through the open window. The cactus was so big it barely fit through and the man in the hat pushed himself as far back in the seat as he could. The student accepted the cactus with his left hand, his right by now hopelessly wedged between the ladder and the wheelbarrow. „Really super sweet“ she called to him, then disappeared from the window. Very slowly and carefully, the student pulled the cactus towards him, when it suddenly began to tip in his direction. He reflexively turned his head to the left to pull it out of danger, but too late: he felt the cactus fall against his right cheek and caress him with a thousand tiny prickly spines. Then his eyes fell on something and he could not believe his eyes. „Look,“ he said in a toneless voice from the corner of his left mouth. The others looked to their left. There, behind the windows of a very small café, Bungalow sat at a small round table, surrounded by a dozen other patrons all looking outside, their eyes fixed on the strange spectacle in the broken car. At the very edge, the young woman stood and blinked when she noticed the student’s gaze. She turned away as a waitress stepped up to her with a tray. Was that popcorn?