the sun shone.
the receptionist answered the phone when the salesman stepped to her counter.
hiya, she said.
hiya, he said.

now these are clean american youngsters, herr brekst said, actively fighting terrorism by displaying a proper exterior appearance and agree on good terms and in a largely polite fashion.
don’t mind them, said sponge, they’ll join us when they’re older.
we rush then i suppose, herr brekst said and felt witty.
[the breakfast tv lumpenproletariat crowd stays as they have no place to go.]