Back The Elephant Vanishes Save as PDF
Chapters (20)
  1. THE WIND-UP BIRD AND TUESDAY’S WOMEN
  2. THE SECOND BAKERY ATTACK
  3. THE KANGAROO COMMUNIQUÉ
  4. ON SEEING THE 100% PERFECT GIRL ONE BEAUTIFUL APRIL MORNING
  5. SLEEP
  6. THE FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE , THE 1881 INDIAN UPRISING, HITLER’S INVASION OF POLAND, AND THE REALM OF RAGING WINDS
  7. LEDERHOSEN
  8. BARN BURNING
  9. THE LITTLE GREEN MONSTER
  10. FAMILY AFFAIR
  11. A WINDOW
  12. TV PEOPLE
  13. A SLOW BOAT TO CHINA
  14. THE DANCING DWARF
  15. THE LAST LAWN OF THE AFTERNOON
  16. THE SILENCE
  17. THE ELEPHANT VANISHES
  18. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  19. OTHER BOOKS BY THIS AUTHOR
  20. ALSO BY HARUKI MURAKAMI

“It must be fun to be able to drink alcohol,” he said as he poked at a plug with a mechanical pencil.

“I wonder,” I said. “I’ve been doing it so long I wouldn’t have anything to compare it with.”

“I’ve been practicing a little.”

“Practicing drinking?”

“Yes. Is there something odd about that?”

“No, not at all. You should start with white wine. Put some in a big glass with ice, cut it with Perrier and a squeeze of lemon juice. That’s what I drink instead of fruit juice.”

“I’ll give it a try,” he said. “Aha! I thought so!”

“What’s that?”

“The connecting cords between the preamp and the power amp. The connection’s been broken at the plugs on both channels. This kind of pin plug can’t take much movement. In addition to which, they’re cheaply made. I’ll bet somebody moved the amplifier recently.”

“I did the other day, when I was cleaning,” said my sister.

“That’s it.”

She looked at me. “We got this thing from your company. It’s their fault for using such weak parts.”

“Well, I didn’t make it,” I muttered. “I just do the commercials.”

“Don’t worry,” said Noboru Watanabe. “I can fix it right away if you’ve got a soldering iron.”

“A soldering iron? Not in this house.”

“Never mind. I’ll zip out and buy one. You really ought to have a soldering iron in the house. They come in handy.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. But I don’t know where there’s a hardware store.”

“I do. I passed one on the way.”

I stuck my head out over the balcony again and watched Noboru Watanabe strap on his helmet, mount his bike, and disappear around a corner.

“He’s so nice,” sighed my sister.

“Yeah, a real honey.”

NOBORU WATANABE finished repairing the pin plugs before five o’clock. He asked to hear some easy-listening vocals, so my sister put on a Julio Iglesias record. Since when did we have crap like that in the house?

Noboru asked me, “What kind of music do you like?”

“Oh, I just love stuff like this,” I blurted out. “You know: Bruce Springsteen, Jeff Beck, the Doors.”

“Funny, I’ve never heard of any of those. Are they like Julio?”

“Yeah, a lot like Julio.”