This morning, the crumb—let’s call him Mrvica—stood trembling on a matchbox.
The vacuum roared. Mrvica closed his eyes. But at the last second, a gust of wind from the heating vent saved him, blowing him under the bookshelf—a five-star crumb resort, safe until next Saturday’s trial.
“Not guilty, Your Lentil-ness! I was born just last Tuesday, during the evening toast. I fell from the table while Father Novak was explaining inflation. I didn’t choose to land near the remote control!” mrvice iz dnevnog boravka pitanja i odgovori
Panic erupted. The dust bunnies screamed. The popcorn kernel rolled for cover.
“Based on the existential evidence and the noble protest regarding the crossword puzzle, I find Mrvica… NOT GUILTY OF LOITERING. He is, however, guilty of being too interesting to be sucked into oblivion .” But at the last second, a gust of
“Silence! The court acknowledges these philosophical questions. But we are here for the legality of your presence. Mrvica, answer me this: If you are so innocent, why did you hide inside the folds of the Sunday newspaper?”
Just then, a shadow fell over the courtroom. The weekly earthquake began: the vacuum cleaner, a red Cyclone X-3000, rolled into the living room. Mrs. Novak hummed as she plugged it in. I fell from the table while Father Novak
“We seek answers! Why do humans shake the tablecloth inside the house instead of on the balcony? Why do they shoo us with a napkin but then apologize to the dog for stepping on his tail? And most importantly—why does the vacuum cleaner sing opera? It roars ‘O Sole Mio’ but devours us like a monster!”