The Rascally Romance (in a single helluva-long letter about a flicking-short life) - Сергей Николаевич Огольцов

numerous yet high-spirited here. In some 10 meters from my unobtrusive table, a company of 8 merrymakers proportionately male-femaled about the long central table on the premises collectively resent yesterday’s TV Morning Post show, a couple of veteran drag queens congratulating each other on the holiday and a 10-year-old pop hit by Leshchenko to all of the fair sex on behalf of all of us, ugly but manly… and equally dull football match today at 5 on channel 2, street teams from League B… Well, and already mentioned me in the corner, certified notoriety, imbalanced and fully unconcerned about their problems with our Central TV. Which is not to say that I am an absolutely care-free individual, yet my problem is more of down-to-earth nature. Being an optimist, I firmly believe that my problem will certainly find its solution, with my help. Namely, how to snack liquid with liquid.

When I came here—and I was the first!—to demonstrate that I was a peace-loving redskin and to emphasize the fact that it’s my maiden visit to the establishment, I made a try at buying a boiled egg from the glazed sarcophagus under the counter. The bartender rejected outright and never gave in, too human paleface. Seems like he remembered me as a part to the Orpheuses. Zop they handled him at those times or, maybe, Zots. Never any close to remember. So I let him play a kind host caring for my priceless health. For which reason there remained nothing to choose from but good ol’ Zhigulevskoye beer, still better than nothing at all.

The company followed after the fruitless trade negotiations were over. Mr. Barmen, does not have much to do today, the young working class couples appeared bringing their refreshment by them. Being natives in this blocks, they know by heart the assortment in the glazed showcase under kinda marbled counter. A month of exposure turned the items for sale into theatrical dummies, bullet-proof waffles, patties for driving nails or derailing trains, depends on your walk in life. So they openly smuggled in hooch and 3 torbas of, supposedly, home-made snacks. I’m too polite to gaze and check but lard is there, betcha. In 5 minutes they were assuring each other already, in turn, it’s the best party in their lifespan.

– Wow, guys! Six minutes already! We’re sitting in a grand style indeed!

I have this whole table to myself, no one to share my admiration at the mighty rain whose gushing curly streams double the thickness of glass in the walls, splash-whip the concrete outside. Pouring beer onto beer inside, even if somewhat monotonous, still goes on, we’re champions for solidarity, Bro.

I tolerantly let their celebration ooze into the arch of my ear. Just for the record, in what time they seconded me? No use asking Zotz or Zop who milks them for more kopecks than for the beer that I’ll consume… even though I could buy, after all, that pensioner of an egg. Yes, I could. Potentially. Anyway, he’s a good boy this here Zotz (or Zop?), potentially. Still hoards an egg or 2. A bit uneducated, doesn’t watch Travelers’ Club on the Central TV. In China, for instance, wise eaters scramble for 50-year-old eggs, gourmet's delight, they see them by color, each decade makes eggs bluer and bluer… Tell me how blue are your…

As always when not having anything potentially good to do, I pick up that same old shoe to chew on under the jingle-splash-claps of our turnkey rain. 10 of us, 4 pairs, pretty soaked already, Zots-or-Zop plus me… no, no, we’re straight, I recalled now, he’s married. Anyway, we’re here to have a good time, to make the day red despite of anything. Or how?

So now, dear Sir, what time are you talking about? Have you ever seen any? I don’t mean clockfaces and other props to this endless sham. All we have here now are these innocent folks, deceived, exploited, and ZopZots over his rotten glazed balls, though possibly not too much, and me in the same space. All we ever have is space and space alone. Well, yes, and this eternal fraud we’re fed, inoculated, wrapped into, from womb to tomb, this ever present Time. You have to annul it to be free. Send it plank-walking… Now, look around, see any change? Surely not! Subtraction of nothing changes nothing… Of course, it will take some time… Fuck!. It’ll take certain efforts to get accustomed to the new world freed from the Biggest Lokhotron Ever. Kiss good-bye your speedometers, chimes, half of the physical formulas, engineering colleges… no mixed tenses whatsoever, no Olympic Games except for, maybe, gymnastics and ice-dancing… it feels scary, Bro… the freedom, the merciless clearance… voidy… no thinkable civilization without underlying Lie… forget of when, there is only where…but wait-wait-wait, you can’t get anywhere without multiplication of speed and time… you won’t last long in the free world…

State Servants (SS) vs. Sehrguey Ogoltsoff (SO)

SO, the defendant, on March 8, this year, in a state of … inebriety demanded of Bartender at the Rip-Randevous blue eggs, the bluer, the better. In the issuing altercation… later, already on the ruins of the demolished bar sang a subversive chant (resembling the Krishnaits’ one), obviously made on the fly “China! China! Uber alles! China! China! Rule the seas!”

–Do you admit perpetuating the aforesaid wrongdoings?

–Who? Whom? How hard? Into which…

Whoa, man! You better stop it now, it’s not the Red Army Day…

– Wow! Eleven minutes! We’re sitting in a great style! I swear!

~ ~ ~

And the following summer I discovered the existence of capitalized Game. The revelation happened at a football match of the plant team and a visiting one played at the "Avangard" stadium in the Central Park of Recreation. The event attracted an audience of about 20 cut-off slices, like me, who hadn't a f-f..er..I mean, frolic to do, and a couple of random drunks.

So, the teams jogged out to the center, the handshake, referee, tossed coin, all as usual. Then they started the game, sort