This morning, my neighbour had worked his way through to me. I was sitting at breakfast, absorbed in the morning paper, when among much ripping and scratching a big chunk of plaster, along with the wallpaper, broke away barely two steps from me and my neighbour’s head peeped through the wall.
It had been some days already that I could hear a steady scraping and pounding but I had not attached too much importance to it. While at first I reckoned it was just a figment of my overwrought nerves, I later contented myself with attributing it to some mysterious brick-eating bugs and worms.
Now, however, it turned out that it was my neighbour who, employing improvised scratching and chiselling tools like file folder clips and door mountings, had toiled his way right through the wall to my apartment. He saluted with a courteous bow and begged me to excuse his unasked intrusion and his disrupting my matinal tranquility.
I quelled my displeasure, bearing the laws of hospitality in mind. With some effort, I helped the man to entirely worm his way through the wall and invited him to have a seat. We then chatted about this and that for quite a time for my neighbour proved to be a versatile and eloquent man of the world, contrary to my previous opinion.
Now it is evening. After a thorough survey we have taken a handful of good forks and knives from my cutlery tray and are working with great application now. With our combined effort we make good progress and even tomorrow we will break through the ceiling – just in time for my neighbour to spend Christmas Eve with the single lady living in the apartment above mine.
This had been my neighbour’s dearest wish and the sole aim of his doings as he confessed with a deep blush during our conversation in the morning.