UNCLE ANTAL LAYS DOWN THE LAW
Uncle Antal the Dancer
14 hr busride with the jobbagytelke folkdancing village (admirably led by uncle antal-the dancer... *not*, i must stress, uncle antal-the-singer... who it is well known is much less leaderishly endowed, being given to a bit of palinka... but i must also stress that u.a.-the-singer is, as a result, generally very relaxed and often, yes, singing a tune or ten... where was i, oh yah) on the bus. with the village of jobbagytelke.
it was hot. very. sweaty hot. then, a terrible stinky stink began to prevade, just as we were passing through some swampy kinda terrain. phew, said i to the woman i was sitting next to on the bus, must be the swamp smell. i think i'm gonna faint for a while so wake me when its bearable, okay. i did say all this in hungarian cause no one from jobbagytelke speaks international, like. igen igen, she replied, would you like a spot of palinka to deaden your nervishness.
the stink increasingly stunk. it was truly a gagworthy stink. people were fanning themselves with anything available, shirts, passports, candywrappers. then, all of a sudden, air. like magic, the air cleared. we, who were sitting in the back of the bus, were real surprised. the swamp was still going by the window but inside it was positively gardenish, i mean, compared to the breathofhell of few minutes ago.
this is what i am told happened: -i was told this by one of the persons sitting up front, where all the important folks sat. uncle antal-the-dancer, age 76, occupying, of course, the seat-of-honour, behind the driver.
first, faint cries were heard from the befogged backseats as the stink grew more and more ominous.and as the mist crawled its way towards the front, melting buttons and fusing extremities, the busdriver groaned and the bus swerved erratically. which finally woke ancle antal (dancer) from his well deserved, dignified reverie. his nose twitched. his head jerked up. then, rising majestically he turned to the back of the bus and gave one short, stentorial command. SHOES BACK ON he roared. CIPOKET FEL!
and thus the peaceable scents of a hot summer day returned to the bus of the dancers from the village of jobbagytelke, returning to romania from a much honoured performance at the millenium celebrations of the founding of hungary.
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