There Once Was a Man...
There once was a man whose name was Kuznetsov. He left his house to go
to a shop to buy some carpenter's glue so as to stick a stool.
When Kuznetsov was walking past an unfinished house, a brick fell off
the top and hit Kuznetsov on the head.
Kuznetsov fell, but straight away jumped to his feet and felt over his
head. On Kuznetsov's head a huge lump had come up.
Kuznetsov gave the lump a rub and said: -- I, citizen Kuznetsov, left
the house to go to the shop to... to... to... Oh, what on earth's happened?
I've forgotten why I was going to the shop!
At this point a second brick fell off the roof and again Kuznetsov was
struck on the head.
-- Akh! -- cried Kuznetsov, clutching at his head and feeling a second
lump on his head.
-- A likely story! -- said Kuznetsov. -- I, citizen Kuznetsov, left the
house to go to... to go to... to go to... where was I going!
Then a third brick fell from the top on to Kuznetsov's head. And on
Kuznetsov's head a third lump came up. -- Oh heck! -- yelled out Kuznetsov,
snatching at his head. -- I, citizen Kuznetsov, left the... left the... Left
the cellar? No. Left the boozer? Nol Where did I leave?
A fourth brick fell from the roof, hit Kuznetsov on the back of the
head and a fourth lump came up on Kuznetsov.
-- Well, now then! -- said Kuznetsov, scratching the back of his head.
-- I... I... I... Who am I ? I seem to have forgotten what my name is ... A
likely story! Whatever's my name? Vasily Petukhov? No. Nikolay Sapogov? No.
Panteley Rysakov? No. Well, who the hell am I?
But then a fifth brick fell off the roof and so struck Kuznetsov on the
back of the head that Kuznetsov forgot everything once and for all and,
crying 'Oh, oh, oh!', ran off down the street.
If you wouldn't mind! If anyone should meet a man in the street with
five lumps on his head, please remind him that his name is Kuznetsov and
that he has to buy some carpenter's glue and repair a broken stool.
1935
Kalindov
Kalindov was standing on tiptoe and peering at me straight in the face. I found this unpleasant. I turned aside but Kalindov ran round me and was again peering at me straight in the face. I tried shielding myself from Kalindov with a newspaper. But Kalindov outwitted me: he set my newspaper alight and, when it flared up, I dropped it on the floor and Kalindov again began peering at me straight in she face. Slowly retreating, I repaired behind the cupboard and there, for a few moments, I enjoyed a break from the importunate stares of Kalindov. But my break was not prolonged: Kalindov crawled up to the cupboard on all fours and peered up at me from below. My patience ran out; I screwed up my eyes and booted Kalindov in the face. When I opened my eyes, Kalindov was standing in front of me, his mug bloodied and mouth lacerated, peering at me straight in the face as before. 1930
Five Unfinished Narratives
Dear Yakov Semyonovich,
1. A certain man, having taken a run, struck his head against a smithy with such force that the blacksmith put aside the sledge-hammer which he was holding, took off his leather apron and, having smoothed his hair with his palm, went out on to the street to see what had happened. 2. Then the smith spotted the man sitting on the ground. The man was sitting on the ground and holding his head. 3. -- What happened? -- asked the smith. -- Ooh! -- said the man. 4. The smith went a bit closer to the man. 5. We discontinue the narrative about the smith and the unknown man and begin a new narrative about four friends and a harem. 6. Once upon a time there were four harem fanatics. They considered it rather pleasant to have eight women at a time each. They would gather of an evening and debate harem life. They drank wine; they drank themselves blind drunk; they collapsed under the table; they puked up. It was disgusting to look at them. They bit each other on the leg. They bandied obscenities at each other. They crawled about on their bellies. 7. We discontinue the story about them and begin a new story about beer. 8. There was a barrel of beer and next to it sat a philosopher who contended: -- This barrel is full of beer; the beer is fermenting and strengthening. And I in my mind ferment along the starry summits and strengthen my spirit. Beer is a drink flowing in space; I also am a drink, flowing in time. 9. When beer is enclosed in a barrel, it has nowhere to flow. Time will stop and I will stand up. 10. But if time does not stop, then my flow is immutable. 11. No, it's better to let the beer flow freely, for it's contrary to the laws of nature for it to stand still. -- And with these words the philosopher turned on the tap in the barrel and the beer poured out over the floor. 12. We have related enough about beer; now we shall relate about a drum. 13. A philosopher beat a drum and shouted: -- I am making a philosophical noise! This noise is of no use to anyone, it even annoys everyone. But if it annoys everyone, that means it is not of this world. And if it's not of this world, then it's from another world. And if it is from another world, then I shall keep making it. 14. The philosopher made his noise for a long time. But we shall leave this noisy story and turn to the following quiet story about trees. 15. A philosopher went for a walk under some trees and remained silent, because inspiration had deserted him. 1931
Rebellion
-- Drink vinegar, gentlemen -- said Shuyev. No one gave him any reply. -- Gentlemen! -- shouted Shuyev -- I propose to you the drinking of vinegar! Makaronov got up from his armchair and said: -- I welcome Shuyev's idea. Let's drink vinegar. Rastopyakin said: -- I shall not be drinking vinegar. At this point a silence set in and everyone began to look at Shuyev. Shuyev sat stony-faced. It was not clear what he was thinking. Three minutes went by. Suchkov smothered a cough. Ryvin scratched his mouth. Kaltayev adjusted his tie. Makaronov jiggled his ears and his nose. And Rastopyakin, slumped against the back of his armchair, was looking as if indifferently into the fireplace. Seven or eight more minutes went by. Ryvin stood up and went out of the room on tiptoe. Kaltayev followed him with his eyes. When the door had closed behind Ryvin, Shuyev said: -- So. The rebel has departed. To the devil with the rebel! Everyone looked at each other in surprise, and Rastopyakin raised his head and fixed his gaze on Shuyev. Shuyev said sternly: -- He who rebels is a scoundrel! Suchkov cautiously, under the table, shrugged his shoulders. -- I am in favour of the drinking of vinegar -- Makaronov said quietly and looked expectantly at Shuyev. Rastopyakin hiccupped and, with embarrassment, blushed like a maiden. -- Death to the rebels! -- shouted Suchkov, baring his blackish teeth. 1934?
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