How I Was Visited By Messengers
Something clicked in the clock on the wall, and I was visited by messengers. At first, I did not realize that I was visited by messengers. Instead, I thought that something was wrong with the clock. But then I saw that the clock worked just fine, and probably told the correct time. Then I noticed that there was a draft in the room. And then it shocked me: what kind of thing could, at the same time, cause a clock to click and a draft to start in the room? I sat down on a chair next to the divan and looked at the clock, thinking about that. The big hand was on the number nine, and the little one on the four, therefore, it was a quarter till four. There was a calendar on the wall below the clock, and its leafs were flipping, as if there was a strong wind in the room. My heart was beating very fast and I was so scared it almost made me collapse.
"I should have some water," I said. On the table next to me was a pitcher with water. I reached out and took the pitcher.
"Water should help," I said and looked at the water.
It was then that I realized that I had been visited by messengers, and that I could not tell them apart from the water. I was scared to drink the water, because I could, by accident, drink a messenger. What does that mean? Nothing. One can only drink liquids. Could the messengers be liquid? No. Then, I can drink the water, there is nothing to be afraid of. But I couldn't find the water. I walked around the room and looked for the water. I tried putting a belt in my mouth, but it was not the water. I put the calendar in my mouth -- that also was not the water. I gave up looking for the water and started to look for the messengers. But how could I find them? What do they look like? I remembered that I could not distinguish them from the water, therefore, they must look like water. But what does water look like? I was standing and thinking. I do not know for how long I stood and thought, but suddenly I came to.
"There is the water," I thought.
But that wasn't the water, and instead I got an itch in my ear.
I looked under the cupboard and under the bed, hoping that there I might find the water or the messengers. But under the cupboard, in a pile of dust, I found a little ball, half eaten by a dog, and under the bed I found some pieces of glass.
Under the chair I found a half-eaten steak, I ate it and it made me feel better. It wasn't drafty anymore, the clock was ticking steadily, telling the time: a quarter till four.
"Well, this means the messengers are gone," I said quietly and started to get dressed, since I had a visit to make.
(1937)
DLROW
For a while I was convinced that I saw the world. But the world as a whole was unreachable for my eyes, and I saw only fragments of it. And everything that I saw, I called 'world fragments'. And I observed characteristics of those fragments and, by observing them, I developed a science.
I understood that there were intelligent and unintelligent characteristics in the fragments. I distinguished the fragments and gave them proper names. And depending on their characteristics, I saw the world fragments to be either intelligent or unintelligent.
There were also world fragments that could deduce. And these fragments also observed the other world fragments, and me. And all those fragments were similar to each other, and I was similar to them. And I would talk to those fragments.
I would say: "Fragments are the thunder."
The fragments would say: "A heap of time."
I would say: "I am, also, a part of some trinity."
The parts would respond: "We are seeing nothing but little specks."
And suddenly, I stopped seeing them, and then I stopped seeing the rest of the fragments. And I feared that the world was disappearing.
But then I understood that I did not see the parts of the world anymore, but all the world as a whole. At first I thought that this was NOTHINGNESS. But then I understood that this was the world, and that what I had been seeing earlier, was not the world. And I always knew that this was the world, but, what that was that I had been seeing earlier, I still do not know.
When the fragments disappeared, their intelligent characteristics stopped being intelligent, and their unintelligent characteristics stopped being unintelligent. And the world as a whole stopped being intelligent or unintelligent. But when I understood that I was seeing the world as a whole, I suddenly stopped seeing it at all. I got scared because I thought the world had disappeared. And while I was thinking, I understood, that if the world really had disappeared than I could not be thinking. And I looked, searched for the world, but I could not find it. After that I did not know where to look. Then I remembered that, no matter whether I looked or not -- the world was always around me. And now it was not anymore. There was only me.
And then I realized, that I was the world.
But the world was not me.
Although, at the same time, I was the world.
But the world was not me.
But I was the world.
But the world was not me.
But I was the world.
But the world was not me.
But I was the world.
And after that I did not think anything anymore.
A New Talented Writer
Andrey Andreyevich thought up a story like this one.
In an old castle there lived a prince, who was a terrible boozer. But the wife of this prince, on the contrary, didn't even drink tea, she only drank water and milk. While her husband drank vodka and wine, but didn't drink milk. Though, in fact, his wife, to tell the truth, also drank vodka but kept it quiet. But her husband was quite shameless and didn't keep it quiet.
-- I don't drink milk, I drink vodka! -- he always said. While his wife on the quiet, from under her apron, pulled out a jar and -- glug! -- she was drinking away.
Her husband, the prince, says: -- You could have given me some.
But his wife, the princess, says: -- No, there's little enough for me. Shoo!
-- As for you, -- says the prince -- call yourself a lady! -- And with these words, wallop, and his wife's on the floor! The wife, her whole kisser smashed in, lies on the floor crying. And the prince wrapped himself in his cloak and went to his quarters in the tower, where his cages stood. He bred fowls there, you see. And so the prince arrived in the tower and there the chickens were squawking, wanting food. one chicken even began to neigh.
-- As for you -- said the prince -- you chauntecleer! Shut up, before you get your teeth bashed in! -- The chicken doesn't understand a word and just carries on neighing. So, in the end then, we've got a chicken making a racket in the tower, and tile prince, then, offing and blinding and his wife, then, downstairs lying on the floor -- in a word, a complete Sodom.
That's the sort of story Andrey Andreyevich would think up. Even just from this story you can tell that Andrey Andreyevich is a major talent. Andrey Andreyevich is a very clever man. Very clever and very fine!
(1938)
They Call Me the Capuchin
They call me the Capuchin. For that I'll tear the ears off whomsoever it may be necessary, but meanwhile I get no peace from the fame of Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Why did he have to know everything? How to swaddle infants and how to give young girls in marriage I would also like to know everything. In fact I do know everything, except that I am not so sure of my theories. About infants, I certainly know that they should not be swaddled at all -- they should be obliterated. For this I would establish a central pit in the city and would throw the infants into it. And so that the stench of decomposition should not come from the pit, it could be flooded every week with quicklime. Into the same pit I would also stick all Alsatian dogs. Now, about giving young girls in marriage. That, in my view, is even simpler: I would establish a public hall where, say, once a month all the youth would assemble. All of them between seventeen and thirty-five would have to strip naked and parade up and down the hall. If anyone fancied someone, then that pail would go off into a corner and there examine each other in detail. I forgot to say that they would all have to have a card hanging f
rom the neck with their name, surname and address. Then, a letter could be sent to whomever was to someone's taste, to set up a more intimate acquaintance. Should any old man or woman intervene in these matters, I would propose killing them with an axe and dragging them off to the same place as the infants -- to the central pit.
I would have written more of the knowledge within me, but unfortunately I have to go to the shop for tobacco. When walking on the street, I always take with me a thick knotty stick. I take it with me in order to batter any infants who may get under my feet. That must be why they called me the Capuchin. But just you wait, you swine, I'll skin your ears yet!
(1938)
The Artist and the Clock
Serov, an artist, went to the Obvodny Canal. Why did he go there? To buy some india rubber. What did he want india rubber for? To make himself a rubber band. And what did he want a rubber band for? In order to stretch it. That's what for. And what else? This is what else: the artist Serov had broken his clock. The clock had been going well, but he picked it up and broke it. What else? Nothing else. Nothing, this is it, in a nutshell! Keep your filthy snout out when it's not needed! And may the lord have mercy on us!
Once there lived an old woman. She lived and lived, until she got burnt up in her stove. Served her right, too! The artist Serov, at least, was of that opinion...
Huh! I would write some more, but the ink-pot has suddenly gone and disappeared.
(1938)
I Had Raised Dust
I had raised dust. Children were running after me, tearing their clothing. Old men and old women fell from roofs. I whistled, I roared, my teeth chattered and I clattered like an iron bar. Lacerated children raced after me and, falling behind, broke their thin legs in their awful haste. Old men and old women were skipping around me. I rushed on! Filthy, rachitic children, looking like toadstools, got tangled under my feet. Running was hard going. I kept remembering things and once I even almost fell into the soft mush of old men and women floundering on the ground. I jumped, snapped a few heads off toadstools and trod on the belly of a thin old woman, who at this emitted a loud crunch and softly muttered: -- They've worn me out. -- Not looking back, I ran on further. Now under my feet was a clean and smooth pavement. Occasional streetlamps lit my way. I ran up to the bath-house. The welcoming bath-house flickered in front of me and the cosy but stifling bathhouse steam was already in my nostrils, ears and mouth. Without undressing, I ran straight through the changing-room, then past the taps, the tubs and the planks, to the shelf. A hot white cloud surrounds me, I hear a weak but insistent sound. I seem to be lying down.
And at this point, a mighty relaxation stopped my heart.
(1939)
A Shortish Gent
A shortish gent with a pebble in his eye went up to the door of a tobacconist's shop and stopped. His black polished shoes gleamed on the stone step leading up to the tobacconist's. The toe-caps of his shoes were directed at the inside of the shop. Two more steps and the gentleman would have disappeared through the door. But for some reason he dilly-dallied, as though purposely to position his head under the brick which was falling from the roof. The gentleman had even taken off his hat, baring his bald skull, and thus the brick struck the gentleman right on his bare head, broke the cranium and embedded itself in his brain. The gentleman didn't fall. No, he merely staggered a bit from the terrible blow, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, used it to wipe his face, which was all gooey from blood and brains, and, turning towards the crowd, which had instantly gathered around the gentleman, he said: -- Don't worry, ladies and gents: I've already had the vaccination. You can see -- I've got a protruding pebble in my right eye. That was also once quite an incident. I've already got used to that. Now everything's just fine and dandy!
And with these words the gentleman replaced his hat and went off somewhere into the margins, leaving the troubled crowd in complete bewilderment.
(1939-40)
Knights
There was a house, full of old women. The old women lounged around the house all day and swatted flies with paper bags. There were in all thirty-six old women in this house. The most vigourous old woman, by surname Yufleva, ordered the other old women about. She would nib any disobedient old woman on the back of the shoulders or trip her up, and she would fall and smash her face. One old woman called Zvyakina, punished by Yufleva, fell so disastrously that she broke both her jaws. The doctor had to be sent for. He arrived, put on his white coat and, having examined Zvyakina, said that she was too old for there being any possibility of counting on her jaws mending. Then the doctor asked to be given a hammer, a chisel, pincers and rope. The old women drifted round the house for ages and, not knowing what pincers and a chisel look like, they brought the doctor everything that seemed to them anything like tools. The doctor cursed for a long time but finally, having received all the objects he had demanded, asked everyone to withdraw. The old women, burning with curiosity, withdrew with great displeasure. When the old women, amid swearing and grumbling, had hocked out of the room, the doctor locked the door behind them and went up to Zvyakina.
-- Now then -- said the doctor and, having grabbed Zvyakina, tied her tightly with the rope. Then the doctor, paying no attention to the loud cries and wailing of Zvyakina, placed the chisel to her jaw-bone and struck the chisel hard with the hammer. Zvyakina began howling in a hoarse bass. Having shattered Zvyakina's jaw with the chisel, the doctor grabbed the pincers and, having engaged Zvyakina's jaws, tore them out. Zvyakina howled, shouted and wheezed, covered in blood. And the doctor dropped the pincers and Zvyakina's torn jaw-bones, took off his white coat, wiped his hands off it and, going over to the door, opened it. The old women tumbled into the room with a scream and stared goggle-eyed, some at Zvyakina, some at the blood-stained bits lying about on the floor. The doctor pushed his way between the old women and went out. The old women rushed over to Zvyakina. Zvyakina faded in volume and, obviously, was in the process of dying. Yufleva stood right there, looking at Zvyakina and nibbling at sunflower seeds. The old woman Byashechina said: -- So, Yufleva, even you and I will snuff it some day.
Yufleva kicked at Byashechina, but the latter jumped aside in time.
-- Come on girls! -- said Byashechina. -- Why hang around here? Let's leave Yufleva and Zvyakina to romp around, and we'll go and swat flies.
And the old women moved off out of the room.
Yufleva, continuing to bite into her sunflower seeds, stood in the middle of the room and looked at Zvyakina. Zvyakina had faded away and lay there motionless. Perhaps she had died.
However, with this the author is finishing his narrative, since he cannot find his ink-pot.
(1940)
The Lecture
Pushkov said: -- Woman is the workbench of love.
And he immediately received a clout across the gob.
-- What's that for? -- asked Pushkov.
But, not getting any answer to his question, he continued: -- This is what I think: a woman should be tackled from below. Women really like this and only pretend that they don't like it.
At this point Pushkov was again struck across the gob.
-- But what on earth is this, comrades! If that's the way it is, I won't carry on speaking -- said Pushkov.
But, after waiting about a quarter of a minute, he continued: -- A woman is so built that she is all soft and damp.
At this point Pushkov was again struck across the gob. Pushkov tried to pretend that he hadn't noticed this and went on: -- If you just sniff a woman...
But at this point Pushkov was so slammed across the gob that he caught hold of his cheek and said: -- Comrades, under these conditions it is absolutely impossible to deliver a lecture. If this happens again, I shall discontinue.
Pushkov waited for a quarter of a minute and then continued: -- Now, where were we? Ah, yes. That was it. A woman loves to look at herself. She sits down in front of the mirror completely naked...
At this word, Pushkov again received a clout across the g
ob.
-- Naked -- repeated Pushkov.
Smack! -- he was weighed into right across the gob.
-- Naked! -- yelled Pushkov.
Smack! -- he received a clout across the gob.
-- Naked! A naked woman! A nude tart! -- Pushkov kept yelling. Smack! Smack! Smack!
-- Pushkov took it across the gob.
-- A nude tart with a ladle in her hands! -- yelled Pushkov.
Smack! Smack! -- the blows rained down on Pushkov.
-- A tart's bum-hole! -- yelled Pushkov, dodging the blows. -- A nude nun!
But at this point Pushkov was struck with such force that he lost consciousness and crumpled to the floor as though pole-axed.
(1940)
Myshin's Triumph
They said to Myshin: -- Hey, Myshin, get up!
Myshin said: -- I won't get up -- and continued lying on the floor.
Then Kalugin came up to Myshin and said: -- If you don't get up, Myshin, I will make you get up.
-- No -- said Myshin, continuing to lie on the floor.
Selizneva went up to Myshin and said: -- Myshin, you are for ever sprawling about the floor in the corridor and you interfere with us walking backwards and forwards.
-- I have been interfering and I shall keep on interfering -- said Myshin.
-- Well, you know -- said Korshunov, but Kalugin interrupted him and said:
-- What's the point of carrying on long conversations about it! Call the militia!
I Had Raised Dust: Selected Works Page 8