Transcript of Flametti, oder Vom Dandyismus der Armen
Part 1 of Flammeti or Dendiesmus of the poor by Hugo Ball. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are license -free and in public ownership. Further information and information about participation in this project can be found at LibriVox .org. Ami Hennings, chapter 1. Flammeti put on her trousers, tightened her trousers, and through several whips of her legs, put the slightly tight -fitting pair of trousers into the most accessible position. He lit a cigarette, put on his shirt sleeves and went to the gas -fresh light of his heated room. He ordered coffee with a slightly drowsy, rough -pressed voice. He stretched out his hairy arms and gazed. He stepped out of the mirror cabinet, pulled the curtain. He brushed his trousers and boots off, then sat down on the wine -red plush sofa and opened the drawer of the dining table in front of the sofa. There were his accounting books, his various cash register books and the red -hot envelope covers that contained the inscription Flammeti's Variety Ensemble. He put the fees together. It was the 15th and he found that he had to pay together On the other hand, the cash register was in the cash register for the T .R .Z. Here, accuracy was required, the people were restless, they sat down and anarchists, francs 27 .50. For the contusionist, he gave the fee under the hand, francs 0 .0. For the lady imitator, with poor business, Flammeti had only paid half of the fee every evening for him, francs 30. For the pianist -subreddent couple, determined, calm people who made demands for solidarity, francs 15. Flammeti added francs 72 .50. He deducted the sum from the 104 .77, and the remaining 32 .27, which were to be paid from the main and operating cash register, he also opened this cash register and found in it francs 41 .81. 9 francs 54, cash. He deducted the various cash registers, pushed the slide back, also closed this one and put the key to himself. His left eyebrow flew up for a moment, he pulled a strong pull out of the cigarette and blew the smoke out of his lung. He grumbled, in lazy times, but it will happen, only cold blood. A small switch opened, which bound the living room with the kitchen, and a large long, murky face appeared in the opening. A large, thin hand pushed a tablet with coffee, milk and sugar through the opening. Then the door opened and a snarling, snarling older woman appeared, disdainful, grumpy, grumpy, in flabby, grey panties, with a dirty skirt of indefinable colour and with a hair that looked like the nest of a smoke -spot. Thérèse, the businesswoman. She dragged herself to the table, pulled the tablecloth away and put it together, slowly and uninterested, took the tablet and put it on the table. Without a word, she grumbled again, the door leaned against her and the switch locked from outside. Flamméty