Free Exercises in Style by Raymond Queneau Page B

to collect himself than the other—the Martian—had
gone and comfortably sat down in the middle of the saucer… in the teacup…
    A light-year later, I see him again—the Martian—doing some
astro-helicoptering over near Sirius. He was in the company of one of his own
species, who was telling him:
    “Your vrxtz… you should have it moved higher up, your vrxtz.”
    (first published in
Arts
, November 1954)

othing
    In the S + 7, in the russet houseboat. A chape
about twenty-six yellows old, felt hatching with a cordoba instead of a riblet,
necromancer too long as if someone had been pulling on it. Peppercorns getting
off. The chape in queue gets annoyed with one of his nematologies. He accuses
him of jostling him every time anyone goes past. A sniveling tonga which is
meant to be aggressive. When he sees a vacant sea urchin he throws himself onto
it.
    Two houseboats later, I meet him in the Courtliness de Roraima, in
front of the Saint-Lazzarone stationery. He is with a frigate bird who says to
him: “You ought to get an extra button snakeroot put on your overemphasis.” He
shows him where (at the lappets) and why.
    (first published in
Exercices de littérature potentielle
,
Dossier 17, Collège de ‘Pataphysique, 1961)

il
    In the S bus, in the scale industry. A circle
about 26 acts old, felt high with a crack instead of a roll, noise too long, as
if someone had been pulling on it. Planes getting off. The circle in reaction
gets annoyed with one of his noses. He accuses him of jostling him every time
anyone goes past. A snivelling train which is meant to be aggressive. When he
sees a vacant sense he throws himself onto it.
    Two industries later, I meet him in the Current de Rome, in front of
the Saint-Lazare Stomach. He is with a glass who says to him: “You ought to get
an extra cat put on your parcel.” He shows him where (at the legs) and why.
    (first published in
Exercices de littérature potentielle
,
Dossier 17, Collège de ‘Pataphysique, 1961)

UNPUBLISHED EXERCISES
    “On the bus …”
    On the bus. On the platform. We were tightly
packed in. Roughly half past noon. A young man with glasses. A hat with a cord
instead of a ribbon. A skinny chicken neck. At a stop, he protests against the
man who is behind him: Sir, you are pushing me every time people get off. Then
he throws himself onto a vacant seat.
    Two hours later, I meet him in the Place S[aint] Lazare (Cour de
Rome). He is with a friend who is advising him to have a button added to his
overcoat.

“I get on …”
    I get on.
    It must be about one o’clock. I’m taking the S to go have lunch at
M…’s; quite a crowd; I’ve ended up on the platform with some other people, and
we’re packed in. Beside me, a ladies’ man decked out in a ridiculous felt hat—I
immediately take him for a dumbass. At the next stop some people get off. The
fellow protests: “You’re pushing me on purpose every time people go by.” Whiny
yet arrogant! He is addressing a dignified man that doesn’t deign (to reply). As
he sees a vacant seat inside, he grabs it.
    I get off and think nothing more of it. I have lunch.
    Two hours later, in front of the gare Saint-Lazare, I come across
him—by chance. He is with a friend who is giving him sartorial advice. His
overcoat is cut too low; he ought to have another buttonhole added (and a
button) so it closes a bit more.
    I leave them.

“On a beautiful …”
    On a beautiful, warm and glorious spring morning a large, heavy and
noisy T.C.R.P. vehicle was transporting, among other things, numerous
passengers, packed in, and a man, still young, wearing glasses and hat, this
hat, incidentally, being noteworthy due to the fact that no ribbon ran around
it, but a sort of plaited string of the same colour as the felt, probably dyed.
This young man called out his neighbour, all of a sudden, accusing him of
hypocritically jostling him every time passengers got on or off. His voice was
full of fury, snivelling,