Thermostat Wiring Illustration

Years passed, yet not forgotten. That morning, Dad told me

"Today we go to Uncle Philip, because he has a new carpet.

I shuddered. I never liked Uncle Philip carpets.

Uncle Philip, once or twice a year, going to the forest and hunted animals. Then hang the heads of animals living in the wall, or used the skins to make rugs. Each time he returned from the forest, Uncle Philip was organizing a party, roasted deer and drank champagne, and the whole family was invited, and we had to go and say how much we liked the new puma squashed under the coffee table or the new head of a giraffe hanging above the fireplace. And me, I never liked the murders, I hated both dissected cadaver.

We arrived at noon, just when the deer began long grill smell of charred flesh. Uncle Philip came towards us shouting and gesturing a lot, and began handing out drinks and boring and frightening anecdotes about his latest stay in the jungle.

- Let's see the carpet! He exclaimed when he saw mom began to fall asleep, and took us to the living. A lion larger than my imagination carpeted floor. Uncle Philip was swelled with pride, accepted congratulations from Dad pretended not to see Mom's face of disgust, and asked me if I liked. I said more or less what I said was that the lion blinked, and I said no for two reasons: one, because they would not believe me, and two, because if I thought my uncle would grab the gun and would ensure the lion did not return to blink. I asked permission to stay in the living room while their parents ate deer in the yard, that I have no hunger, and so I could stay there, sitting on the floor, next to the new carpet.

"Hey," I said to the lion as soon as we were alone. The Lion opened his eyes and looked at me. Then he stood and shook like a dog when they wake up. For some strange reason, my uncle had not realized that the lion was alive and unharmed, for some even stranger reason, the lion was alive and unharmed. And I had to get him out.

opened wide the windows of the living mammoth, the lion had approached them and looked out.

"You will not get out, my uncle is in the yard," I said, trying to devise a plan to release the animal without noticing that my uncle, understand, I was a child.

But the lion should have known something I did not know, because I licked her face and flew out the window toward the unattainable sky, and faced the astonished gaze of my uncle, who had never suspected that lion, lion also was flying carpet.