They called for the militia and called out a militiaman.
The militiaman arrived after half an hour with the caretaker.
-- What's going on here? -- asked the militiaman.
-- How do you like this! -- said Korshunov, but Kalugin interrupted him and said:
-- This is the situation. This citizen lies here on the floor all the time and interferes with us walking along the corridor. We've tried telling him this and that...
But at this point Kalugin was interrupted by Selizneva, who said: -- We've asked him to go away, but he doesn't go away.
-- Yes -- said Korshunov.
The militiaman went up to Myshin.
-- You, citizen, why are you lying here? -- asked the militiaman.
-- I'm resting -- said Myshin.
-- Resting here is not good enough, citizen -- said the militiaman. -- Where do you live, citizen?
-- Here -- said Myshin.
-- Where's your room? -- asked the militiaman.
-- He's registered in our flat, but he doesn't have a room -- said Kalugin.
-- Wait a minute, citizen -- said the militiaman -- I'll have a word with him now. Citizen, where do you sleep?
-- Here -- said Myshin.
-- Allow me to -- said Korshunov, but Kalugin interrupted him and said:
-- He doesn't even have a bed and he sprawls right on the bare floor.
-- They've been complaining about him for a long time -- said the caretaker.
-- It's absolutely impossible to walk along the corridor -- said Selizneva -- I can't keep stepping over a man for ever. And he sticks out his legs on purpose, and he sticks out his hands, and he lies on his back and looks up. I come back tired from work, I need a rest.
-- And I can add -- said Korshunov, but Kalugin interrupted him and said:
-- He lies here at night, as well. Everyone trips over him in the dark. I tore my blanket because of him.
Selizneva said: -- He's always got tin-tacks and things falling out of his pocket. It's impossible to walk barefooted down the corridor, or before you know where you are -- you put your foot on something.
-- They wanted to set him alight with kerosene the other day -- said the caretaker.
-- We did pour kerosene over him -- said Korshunov, but Kalugin interrupted him and said:
-- We only poured kerosene over him to scare him, but we weren't going to set light to him.
-- Oh no, I wouldn't have a man burned alive in my presence -- said Selizneva.
-- But why is this citizen lying in the corridor? -- the militiaman suddenly asked.
-- That's a fine how do you do! -- said Korshunov, but Kalugin interrupted him and said:
-- Well, because he hasn't got any other living space: here's where I live, in this room, and she's in that one, and that one's his, and so Myshin lives here, in the corridor.
-- That's not good enough -- said the militiaman. -- Everyone should be lying in their own living space.
-- But he hasn't got any other living space, except in the corridor -- said Kalugin.
-- That's just it -- said Korshunov.
-- And so he goes on lying here -- said Selizneva.
-- That's not good enough -- said the militiaman and went away, together with the caretaker.
Korshunov leaped over to Myshin.
-- What about it? -- he yelled. -- How did you like that, then?
-- Wait -- said Kalugin. And, going up to Myshin, he said: -- Did you hear what the militiaman said? Get up from the floor!
-- I won't get up -- said Myshin, continuing to lie there on the floor.
-- Now he will deliberately and furthermore and for ever keep on lying there -- said Selizneva.
-- Definitely -- said Kalugin with some irritation.
And Korshunov said: -- I don't doubt it. Parfaitement!
(1940)
The Falling
Two men fell from a roof. They both fell from the roof of a five-storey newly erected building. Seemingly a school. They had moved down the roof in a sitting position to the very edge and at that point started to fall. Their fall was noticed first of all by Ida Markovna. She was standing at her window in the building opposite and was blowing her nose into a tumbler. And suddenly she caught sight of someone starting to fall from the roof of the building opposite. Peering out, Ida Markovna saw what was an entire twosome starting to fall at once. Completely losing her head, Ida Markovna tore off her shift and hurriedly began to rub the misted-over windowpane, the better to make out who was falling from the roof out there. However, twigging that, perhaps, those falling might, from their vantage point, be able to glimpse her naked -- and goodness only knew what they might think of her -- Ida Markovna jumped back from the window and hid behind the wicker tripod on which there had at one time stood a pot plant.
At this juncture, those falling from the roof were sighted by another personage who lived in the same building as Ida Markovna, only two floors below. This personage was also called Ida Markovna. She happened at the time to be sitting with her feet up on the window-sill and was sewing a button on her slipper. Looking out of the window, she had caught sight of those falling from the roof. Ida Markovna yelped and, leaping up from the window-sill, hastily began opening the window, so as to get a better view when those falling from the roof should strike the ground. But the window would not open. Ida Markovna remembered that she had nailed the window from beneath and rushed to the stove, in which she kept her tools: four hammers, a chisel and pincers. Grabbing the pincers, Ida Markovna again ran up to the window and pulled out the nail. Now the window was easily flung open. Ida Markovna leaned out of the window and saw those who had fallen from the roof whistling towards the ground.
On the street a smallish crowd had already gathered. Whistles were already blowing and a diminutive militiaman was unhurriedly approaching the location of the anticipated event. A big-nosed caretaker bustled about, shoving people and explaining that those falling from the roof could smite the heads of those gathered below. By this time, both Ida Markovnas -- the one in a dress and the other naked -- having leaned out of their windows, were squealing and kicking their legs about. And so, finally, arms spread and eyes agape, those who had fallen from the roof struck the ground.
Just as on occasion we, falling from heights we have attained, may strike the dreary cage of our future.
(written over four days, finished 17 October 1940)
Perechin
Perechin sat on a drawing pin and, from this moment, his life changed abruptly. From a contemplative, quiet man Perechin turned into a downright scoundrel. He grew himself a moustache and henceforth trimmed it extremely untidily, in such a way that the one side of his moustache was always longer than the other. And so his moustache came to grow somehow askew. It became impossible to look at Perechin. What is more, he would give a repulsive wink of the eye and twitch his cheek. For a certain time Perechin confined himself to petty and reprehensible tricks: he told tales, denounced people, and cheated tram conductors by paying them his fare in the very smallest copper coin and each time two or three kopecks short.
(1940)
The Obstacle
Pronin said: -- You have very beautiful stockings.
Irina Mazer said: -- Do you like my stockings?
Pronin said: -- Oh yes. Very much. -- And he made a grab at them with his hand.
Irina said: -- But why do you like my stockings?
Pronin said: -- They are very smooth.
Irina lifted her skirt and said: -- And do you see how high they go?
Pronin said: -- Oh yes, I do.
Irina said: -- But here they come to an end. Up here it's bare leg.
-- Oh, and what leg! -- said Pronin.
-- I've got very thick legs -- said Irina. -- And I'm very wide in the hips.
-- Show me -- said Pronin.
-- I can't -- said Irina. -- I've no knickers on.
Pronin got down on his knees in front or her.
Irina said: -- What
are you kneeling for?
Pronin kissed her on the leg, a little above the stocking top, and said: -- That's what for.
Irina said: -- Why are you lifting my skirt even higher? I've already told you I've no knickers on.
But Pronin lifted her skirt all the same and said: -- Never mind, never mind.
-- What do you mean, never mind? -- said Irina.
But at this juncture someone was knocking at the door. Irina briskly pulled down her skirt and Pronin got up from the floor and went over to the window.
-- Who's there? -- asked Irina through the door.
-- Open the door -- said a sharp voice.
Irina opened the door and into the room came a man in a black coat and high boots. Behind him came a pair of soldiers of the lowest rank, rifles at the ready, and behind them came the caretaker. The lower ranks stood by the door, while the man in the black coat went up to Irina Mazer and said: -- Your name?
-- Mazer -- said Irina.
-- Your name? -- asked the man in the black coat, turning to Pronin .
Pronin said: -- My name is Pronin.
-- Do you have a weapon? -- asked the man in the black coat.
-- No -- said Pronin.
-- Sit down here -- said the man in the black coat, indicating a chair to Pronin.
Pronin sat down.
-- And you -- said the man in the black coat, turning to Irina, -- put your coat on. You'll have to come for a ride with us.
-- What for? -- asked Irina.
The man in the black coat did not reply.
-- I'll need to change -- said Irina.
-- No -- said the man in the black coat.
-- But there's something else I need to put on -- said Irina. -- No -- said the man in the black coat.
Irina put on her fur coat in silence.
-- Good-bye, then -- she said to Pronin.
-- Conversations are not allowed -- said the man in the black coat.
-- Do I come with you as well? -- asked Pronin.
-- Yes -- said the man in the black coat. -- Get your coat on. Pronin stood up, took his coat and hat down from the peg, put them on and said: -- Well, I'm ready. -- Let's go -- said the man in the black coat.
The lower ranks and the caretaker stamped their feet.
They all went out into the corridor.
The man in the black coat locked the door of Irina's room and sealed it with two brown seals.
-- Outside -- he said.
And they all went out of the flat, loudly slamming the outside door.
(1940)
A Fairy-Tale from the North
An old man set out to go into the woods, although he didn't know what for. Then he came back and said:
-- Hey, old woman, you!
The old woman fell straight down. Since then, the hares are white in winter.
Symphony No. 2
Anton Mikhailovich spat, said 'ugh', spat again, again said 'ugh', again spat, again said 'ugh' and walked away. And to hell with him. I'd do better to talk about Il'ya Pavlovich.
Il'ya Pavlovich was born in 1893 in Constantinople.
When he was still a small boy, he was taken to Petersburg and hero he went to the German school on Kirochnaya Street. Then he worked in some shop or other, then he did something else and at the beginning of the revolution he emigrated abroad. Well and to hell with him. I'd do better to talk about Anna Ignat'evna.
But to talk about Anna Ignat'evna is not so very simple. In the first place I don't know anything about her and in the second place I have now fallen off my chair and forgotten what I had intended to say. I'd do better to talk about myself.
I am on the tall side, quite intelligent, I'm a flashy dresser with a bit of taste, I don't drink, I don't go to the races, but I do chase the ladies. And the ladies don't avoid me. They even like it when I muck around with them. Serafima Izmailovna has often invited me round and Zinaida Yakovlevna also used to say that she was always pleased to see me. But there did occur between me and Marina Pavlovna an amusing incident which I want to tell you about. It was a completely ordinary incident, but all the same an amusing one for, thanks to me, Marina Pavlovna went absolutely bald, like the palm of your hand. It happened like this: once I arrived at Marina Pavlovna's and bang! -- she went bald. And that's all there is to it.
(1941)
Acquittal
Without boasting, I can tell you that, when Volodya struck me across the ear and spat in my face, I really got him, so that he won't forget it. It was only after that that I hit him with his primus and it was evening when I hit him with the iron. So he didn't die straight away by any means. This doesn't prove that I cut his leg off as early as the afternoon. He was still alive then. Whereas Andryusha I killed simply from inertia, and I can't hold myself responsible for that. Why did Andryusha and Yelizaveta Antonovna fall into my hands anyway? They had no business springing out from behind the door. I am being accused of bloodthirstiness; they say I drank blood, but that is not true: I licked up the pools of blood and stains -- it is a man's natural urge to wipe out the traces of even the most trivial of crimes. And also I did not rape Yelizaveta Antonovna. In the first place, she was no longer a virgin; and secondly I was having dealings with a corpse, so she has no cause for complaint. What about the fact that she just happened to have to give birth? Well, I did pull out the infant. The fact that he was not long for this world anyway, well that's really not my fault. I didn't tear his head off; it was his thin neck that did that. He was simply not created for this life. It's true that I stomped their dog to a pulp around the floor, but it's really cynical to accuse me of murdering the dog when in the immediate vicinity, it might be said, three human lives had been obliterated. The infant I don't count. Well, all right then, in all this (I can agree with you) it is possible to discern a degree of severity on my part. But to consider it a crime that I squatted down and defecated on my victims -- that is really, if you'll excuse me, absurd. Defecation is an urge of nature and consequently can in no sense be criminal. All things considered, I do understand the misgivings of my defence counsel, but all the same I am hoping for a complete acquittal.
(1940)
How I Was Born
Now I will describe how I was born, how I grew up and how the first signs of genius were discovered in me. I was born twice. This is how it happened.
My father married to my mother in 1902, but my parents brought me into the world only at the end of 1905, because Dad was adamant that his child should be born at New Year. Father calculated that conception had to take place on the first of April and only on that day did he get round my mother with the proposition of conceiving a child.
Father got round my mother on the first of April 1903. Mother had long been awaiting this moment and was terribly thrilled. But father, as it seems, was in a very playful mood and could not restrain himself, saying to mother: 'April Fool!'.
Mother was absolutely furious and didn't allow father anywhere near her that day. There was nothing for it but to wait until the following year.
On the first of April 1904, father again started getting round mother with the same proposition. But mother, remembering what had happened the year before, said that she had no further desire to be left in that stupid position and again would not allow Father near her. It didn't matter how much noise Father created, it got him nowhere.
And only a year later did my father manage to have his way with my mother and beget me.
And so my conception took place on the first of April 1905.
However, all Father's calculations broke down because I turned out to be premature and was born four months before my time.
Father created such a fuss that the midwife who had delivered me lost her head and started to shove me back in, from where I had only just emerged.
An acquaintance of ours who was in attendance, a student from the military medical academy, declared that shoving me back in would not work. However, the student's words notwithstanding, they still shoved me and shoved me back,
for all they were worth.
At this point a fearful commotion broke out.
The progenetrix yells: -- Give me my baby!
And the response comes: -- Your baby -- they tell her -- is inside you.
-- What! -- yells the progenetrix. -- How can my baby be inside me when I have just given birth to him!
-- But -- they say to the progenetrix -- mightn't you be mistaken?
-- What! -- yells the progenetrix -- mistaken? How can I be mistaken! I saw the baby myself, he was lying here on a sheet only just now!
-- That is true -- they tell the progenetrix -- but perhaps he's crawled off somewhere. -- In a word, they themselves don't know what to tell the progenetrix.
And the progenetrix is still making a noise and demanding her baby.
There was nothing for it, but to call an experienced doctor. The experienced doctor examined the progenetrix and threw up his hands; however, he thought it all out and gave the progenetrix a good dose of English salts, and by this means I saw the light of day for the second time.
At this juncture, Father again started creating a fuss, saying that, surely, this couldn't be called a birth, that this, surely, couldn't yet be called a human being, but rather a semifoetus, and that it ought to either be shoved back again or put into a incubator.
And so they put me into an incubator.
(1935)
The Incubating Period
I sat in the incubator for four months. I remember only that the incubator was made of glass, was transparent and had a thermometer. I sat inside the incubator on cotton wool. I don't remember anything else about it.
After four months they took me out of the incubator. They did this, as it happens, on the first of January 1906.
I Had Raised Dust: Selected Works Page 9