Walking about the city in search of work I got acquainted with a guy by the name of Gappar. He advised me to turn to the water supply enterprise "Vodokanal" where he had recently worked and quit. I went there.
I entered the reception room. There was a young woman smelling a rose there. I said:
- Sorry, Lady, could you tell me where... I mean...
- A toilet? - she asked.
- Oh no, - the Manager"s office
- Ah yeah, there it is.
I went where she pointed with her short fingers and her nails looking like those of a hen. I didn"t know where to knock. There was a curtain instead of the door. Somehow, on the instant, I remembered Alexander Pushkin:
There is an oak-tree by the ocean
With a suspended golden chain,
A cat perpetually in motion
Is always there shine or rain.
As it walks right a song it"s singing,
As it walks left a story tells.
It"s wonderland with goblins screaming,
A charming mermaid casting spells.
And on mysteries approaches
Are traces of unknown beasts,
A wooden house with no porches,
No doors and windows, in the mists.
Then I moved the curtain apart, making no bones about it, and entered the room. I saw a man of about sixty years of age. He talked on the phone smoking an improvised cigarette, i.e. tobacco rolled in a piece of newspaper. I waited till he finished speaking but it lasted a long time. I stood listening to what he was saying:
- In short, I am tired of them. Everybody complains. An elderly woman came up to me and said: "we have no water in our house. The pipeline is broken. We have the cellar full of water. The sanitary technicians say they are afraid of entering the cellar because of the rats. They claim there may be mutants there as well". "We need divers with a bathyscaphe" - she says. "But where can get them for you?" - I say - chip in and buy a ticket for "American Airways", and let someone fly to America and Hollywood where they make movies. There are real film producers
there. Tell them we have a cellar where they can shoot horror films. That"s all there"s to it. When they arrive, sign a contract with them, and you will earn a pretty good sum of money to pay for the renewal of the pipeline".
The granny was offended and went away.
But that"s nothing. Then two men came and said: "we have a big heap of rubbish in the neighborhood. It takes time to pass the rubbish hill, hence we are late for work".
- Silly you - I said. Once you have a hill formed why pass it over? You can work there developing tourism and mountaineering. Let mountain climbers arrive from all over the world and climb the rubbish mountain tops breaking records and entering the "The Guinness Book of World Records". Spending the money they have saved, people travel to distant lands to have a rest. You should be grateful to God that you have Rubbish Mountains close to you. Live along merging with nature.
They objected:
- How can you call them mountains when there are no animals and trees?
To which I replied:
- Don"t hurry. Everything will be arranged. Once there is a rubbish hill there should be the body of a dead sheep. By logic, there will be wolves as well that will come feeling the smell of dead sheep. The sky will grow dark from birds of prey with their shadows floating on the ground. Who knows, maybe, there are birds" legs scattered around there. That will attract foxes. That"s flora and fauna for you! All you have to do is to open a hunting season for tourist hunters that would visit your place on package tours.
Hardly had I got rid of them when a young lady from "Bustan" came and said:
- Our neighborhood looks like the moon surface. The trees are dried up. There are jerboas and kangaroos running around on hind legs. They have dug up the whole vicinity. We are afraid the houses will soon collapse. But that"s only part of the trouble. Last night I looked at the curtain and saw a big lizard on it. I could hardly chase it away, and could not sleep all night, a stick in hand. The next morning I called the Zoology teacher on the phone asking him to come. He said it was a monitor lizard, the crocodile of a desert. They attack people, particularly women, to eat them up, but you shouldn"t worry because I will spend the night here lying by your side till morning.
- My dear Lady, - I said- such being the case, I can tell you that God himself has awarded you. You should immediately build a terrarium and grow rattlesnakes, scorpions, all sorts of poisonous spiders including tarantulas. Do you know how much poison costs on the black market? You don"t? Well, you ought to know it... Poison, my dear, is a good thing to smuggle! You can earn a pretty sum of money in hard currency on it. With the money you make you can not only fix the water-pipe but also build luxurious singing fountains, like those in Canada..."
The boss had been talking a long time. I got tired of his gabble, and I left. I walked thinking that it was not for nothing that Gappar had quit work there.
When I turned round the corner making a short-cut to the main street I heard a woman"s voice:
- Help! He-ee-lp!
I pricked up my ears and ran to the woman. The cry came from the yard behind the clay fence. When I entered the yard I saw a big woman, or rather a female dinosaur. Seeing her one might think she would explode any minute. A thin big-eyed spectacled man sat hanging his head by her side. The woman looked at me, stopped crying for a minute and said:
- Oh Mullah-aka, good morning! It"s such a misfortune! I had such grand plans and romantic dreams! My father, it"s his entire fault! He cheated me! He said the young man was a perfect match for me: a drug addict, boozer, thief and lecher! He had done time in prison for five years from start to finish. I believed him, silly me. He happens to be a teacher! He has studied at the university for five years! He only looks like a drunkard. He doesn"t beat me, nor does he go gambling, nor is he unfaithful to me, nor is involved in robbery. What sort of husband is he? He is not a husband but a serpent! Tell me, Mullah-aka, why does a woman get married? A woman gets married to be walloped by her husband! I dreamed about a husband with lots of scars on his face, like daring pirates have. I wanted him to go unshaved. But the wretched teacher shaves himself twice a week! I beg him on my bended knees asking him to beat me. But he says:
- I cannot beat you. I just can"t bring myself to do it.
I tell mom:
- I cannot live with such a good man.
- No, my dear, just be patient. You will see he will start walloping you sooner or later. My mother"s heart tells me that.
She kept asking me to wait. I have waited for a long time, and I am still waiting. But he doesn"t" wallop me. He says he hasn"t got the nerve. Oh my, I envy my sister so! Her husband drinks alcohol like water. And he smokes like a vacuum cleaner. He is a gas welder. So he always carries a big adjustable spanner in his bootleg. He beats my sister three times a week with that spanner. That"s a man indeed! - the wifosaur said and continued:
- You shouldn"t be surprised, Mullah-aka. Never mind. I cry every day. I use hundreds of sand cloth handkerchiefs a day wetting them with my tears.
I looked at her in puzzlement and encouraged her before saying good bye:
- Don"t scourge yourself, lady. If your husband doesn"t beat you, God will do it for sure, by all means..
- Really? - said the dinosaur of a woman rejoicing. You have made me happy. She thanked me and saw me to the gate.