Daniel Charms, 31 Plays, #31.4

The Old Woman - IV

Sakerdon Michailovich opened the door himself. He was wearing a robe over his naked body, Russian boots with the tongues cut off, and a fur hat with earflaps lifted and tied on the back.

"Glad to see you" said Sakerdon Michailovich when he saw me.

"I hope I'm not disturbing?" I asked.

"No, no, no" said Sakerdon Michailovich. "I wasn't doing anything; I was just lying on the floor."

"As you see," I said to Sakerdon Michailovich, "I brought vodka and some food. Let's have a drink, if you don't mind."

"Sounds good," said Sakerdon Michailovich. "Come in."

We walked inside his room. I opened up the bottle of vodka whilst Sakerdon Michailovich put two glasses on the table and a plate of cooked meat.

"I brought some sausages," I said. "How are we going to eat them: raw or cooked?"

"We'll cook them," said Sakerdon Michailovich, "and in the meantime we'll drink vodka and eat the cooked meat. It's left over from a soup, excellent meat!"

Sakerdon Michailovich put a frying pan on the stove, and we started drinking the vodka.

"Vodka is an extremely healthy product," said Sakerdon Michailovich filling the glasses. "Mechnikov wrote that vodka is healthier than bread, and that bread is only straw rotting in our stomachs."

"To our health!" I said, toasting with Sakerdon Michailovich.

We drank and ate the cold meat.

"Tasty," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

Suddenly something made a sharp crackling noise.

"What was that?" I asked.

We sat quietly and listened. Suddenly, there was another crackling noise. Sakerdon Michailovich jumped off his chair, ran to the window and ripped down the curtains.

"What are you doing?" I screamed.

But Sakerdon Michailovich, without answering, rushed to the stove, grabbed the frying pan with the curtain and put it down on the floor.

"The hell with it!" said Sakerdon Michailovich. "I forgot to fill it with water, the pan was enameled, and now the enamel has cracked."

"Ah, all clear now." I said nodding my head.

We sat down at the table again.

"The hell with them," said Sakerdon Michailovich, "we'll eat the sausages raw."

"I am really hungry," I said.

"Eat then," said Sakerdon Michailovich moving the sausages closer to me.

"Last time I ate was yesterday, in the basement. I haven't had a thing since." I said.

"Yes, yes, yes," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

"I was writing the whole time," I said.

"Hell!" screamed Sakerdon Michailovich exaggeratedly. "It is rather pleasant to be in the company of a genius."

"You bet!" I said.

"Surely you must have written a lot?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Yes," I said, "it took a lot of paper."

"To the modern genius," said Sakerdon Michailovich, raising his glass.

We drank. Sakerdon Michailovich ate the cooked meat, and I ate the sausages. After eating four, I lit up my pipe and said:

"You know, I came here to escape persuasion."

"Who was pursuing you?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"A lady," I said.

Instead of asking further questions, Sakerdon Michailovich poured a shot of vodka, so I continued:

"I met her in the bakery and fell in love right away."

"Is she beautiful?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Yes," I said, "to me."

We drank and I continued:

"She agreed to come to my house and drink vodka. We went to a store but I had to run away."

"Were you short of money?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"No, I had enough money," I said. "I just remembered that I couldn't let her into my room."

"Was there another lady in your room?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"You can say that: there is another lady in my room," I said, smiling. "Therefore I cannot let anyone in."

"Why not get married? Then you could invite me for dinner," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

"No," I said giggling. "I cannot marry that lady."

"Well, than marry the one from the bakery," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Why are you so eager to see me married?" I said.

"Why not?" said Sakerdon Michailovich filling up the glasses. "To your achievements!"

We had another shot. It appeared that vodka started having an effect on us. Sakerdon Michailovich took the fur hat with earflaps off and threw it on the bed. I stood up and walked around the room feeling dizzy.

"What can you say about dead people?" I asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Nothing good," said Sakerdon Michailovich. "I am afraid of them."

"Yes, and I despise them." I said. "If I'd see a dead man that isn't my relative, I'd definitely kick him with my foot."

"It's not nice to kick dead people," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Still, I would kick him right in the face, with my boot. I despise dead people and children."

"I can agree with that, children are awful," agreed Sakerdon Michailovich.

"So what do you think, which is worse: dead people or children?" I asked.

"I think children; they bother more. While dead people are not interfering with our lives," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Interfere!" I screamed and immediately went quiet.

Sakerdon Michailovich looked at me carefully.

"Would you like some more vodka?" he asked.

"No," I said, and then added: "No thank you, I think I had enough."

I went back the table and sat down. We were silent for some time.

"I'd like to ask you," I say eventually. "Do believe in God?"

A big vertical wrinkle suddenly appears on Sakerdon Michailovich's forehead, and he says:

"There are a few things that I consider impolite. It's impolite to ask a man for fifty rubles when you've just seen him stash two hundred in his pocket. It's up to him to lend you the money or not; the most successful way to refuse is to lie and say there is no money. However, you've just seen this someone has money, thus you limited his freedom to simply refuse you. You took away his right of choice, and that's just indecent. It is impolite and tactless. And asking a man: 'Do you believe in God?' it is also impolite and tactless."

"Come on," I said, "The two have nothing in common."

"I wasn't comparing," said Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Well, all right," I said, "Let's leave it to that. Please, I apologize for asking you such an impolite and tactless question."

"No problem," said Sakerdon Michailovich. "I just didn't want to answer you."

"I wouldn't have answered either," I said, "but only for a different reason."

"And what would that be?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich inertly.

"Well, you see," I said, "I think there is no such thing as believers or non-believers. I think there are people who want to believe and people who don't."

"Does it mean that those who don't want to believe already believe in something?" said Sakerdon Michailovich. "And those who want to believe initially believe in nothing?"

"You can say it that way," I said. "I don't really know."

"Believe or not believe in what? God?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"No," I said, "Immortality."

"Then why did you ask me if I believe in God?"

"Simply because it sounds silly: 'Do you believe in Immortality?'" I said and stood up.

"Are you leaving?" asked Sakerdon Michailovich.

"Yes," I said, "it's about time."

"What about the vodka?" said Sakerdon Michailovich. "All is left is just enough for another shot."

"Well, let's drink it then," I said.

We finished the vodka and ate the leftover cooked meat.

"Now I really have to go," I said.

"Good bye," said Sakerdon Michailovich walking me to the door. "Thank you for the refreshments."

"Thank you," I said. "Take care."

I left.

Left alone, Sakerdon Michailovich cleaned the table, threw the empty bottle behind a cupboard, put his fur hat with earflaps on, and sat down on the floor by the window. His hands weren't visible because he was holding them behind his back. His bony legs were sticking out from under the raised robe and he was wearing Russian boots with the tongues cut off.