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Home Balance SHEET (extracts from a prose work)

Balance SHEET


Balance Sheet 
from
 studies at the Electro-technical Faculty in Bratislava
or

recipe for making a beef soup

or

fairy tale about why things are like that.

 

A practical and socialistic and catastrophic bestseller about three possible ways
the planet Earth can be destroyed

A story about four billion men and women in love

 

Photography by Kata Gajdosikova.
Illustrations with accompanying text by Rastislav Dobos.
Copyright © 1984 – 1991

Version 151.01

 

I´m sitting beneath a pear-tree,

quiet little Fatso
(Fatso´s paraphrase for famous verses)

 

All characters in this book are truly invented,

and all about them is probably true.

 

Thanks to Mr. Bednarik and Mr. Bistak for writing this book.

Special thanks to Mr. Rosa for thinking it up.

 

The fact that slowly converging series of Legendre´s, Hankel´s and Bessel´s functions within their integration domain can be expressed by asymptotic definitions given by  Airy´s integrals and God´s existence are the only certainties we have left, and no one knows till when!

(Grandpop)

 

On 14 September, 1963, two centenarian men were born in Trencianske Teplice. These men then spent the rest of their short lives in Nova Dubnica. One of them, Mr. Ivan Rosa, had always been older than me by two hours and something. He used to have a lot of fun with that. But he doesn´t anymore.


 


 

... are you really sure that God created only one world?

                                   Fatso´s question to a famous paraphrase

 

 

Further back before then

or

what is God actually like?

 

 

Dedicated to the Earth, a planet full of beautiful people

 who live for each other

 

 


 


It is an undisputable fact that the Earth came into being. It is also an undisputable fact today that God had his fingers in it. God has explained that whole pathetic mistake in His own way:

Balance Shivel Eye Chevvy


I.I. Chapter in which you will find out what sticks out of every good philosophy

 

And God has been in hiding for seven days already. In the morning He crept up into His home and barricaded Himself in the kitchen. The whole heaven resounded with a loud smacking of hordes of philosophers gone wild. They were incessantly stuffing themselves. Chunks of roasted beef were flying into their mouths. The philosophers looked like big heaps of bacon. And they were still drinking.

“To our common goal! To the absolute perfection and harmony! Bottoms up!“

And God looked out through the fan. The entire heaven was full of big bellies. Belly next to belly.

“If we didn´t certainly know that what we want is definitely better than what we don´t want, we wouldn´t be drinking here together!“ shouted the bellies.

And suddenly one of the philosophers grotesquely bloated up and started laughing like an old worn-out boot with its point torn out. He noticed God. He stuck out his tongue and slowly undulating it he wrapped it around His neck.

And he pulled God out of the ventilating window like a cork from the bottle.

And by the time God came to his senses he was hanging on the cross again.

“Oh, God!“ screamed the philosopher. “Either I´ll grasp what you are in the world for or go to hell!“

“Let Him pour us another one!“ yelled the bellies.

And so He had to keep on pouring them more drinks. From the cross. He kept on filling their cups to the brim. He even overfilled them. Everyone had a good time.

“After laughing comes weeping,“ said the parrot.

The philosophers got shocked. The one, who was bloated up like an old worn-out boot, wanted to politely close his mouth, but it was still overstuffed with beef. And that´s why there was still something sticking out of his chops. As always, something sticks out of every good philosophy.

 

 

I.II. Chapter where you will find out what is true nowadays

 

And the radical philosophers were kind of messing around with a bomb. A massive hero pushed his way through next to the cross and pulled out 20-inch nails.

“We, the massive heroes, are not going to give up, but we are going to change this most ideal, most liberal, most humane or, in other words, best and totally boring world – into a world full of lovely creatures, cheap booze, pleasant surprises, unbound pleasure, love and fun; a world with no place for stray pigs, political bullshit, rough men, blueberries, impotents, civil wars, horse shit and turds of other big animals,“ recited the massive hero as he was nailing God to the cross with a giant hammer.

From beyond the horizon flew in additional hordes of beef.

“And we, the massive heroes, are leaving this world as it is only because we are afraid.“

Balance Yum
“Put those legs like a real man!“ shouted the philosophers at God. Someone put a bomb in his pants.

“Turn your head a little to the side, make it look good!“ blared the massive hero. “Those 20-inch nails are weak. What a junk. What do you say? Do I have to build a happy future with such a junk?!?” He simply got mad. Like a half-a-meter long snake with three-meter ladle up his ass!

And God was falling asleep. “Again I´m going to be only hanging on the cross for days.“ A little he felt like crying.

And His omniscient brain was beginning to whisper Him an interesting story from Noah´s life. As always – from the future. God has never listened to these empty words. “No one can be sure how it all will turn out,“ God used to say. God was right about this. As about everything.

 

An interesting story from Noah´s life:


They Say They’re Going To Erect A Monument To Noah.

 

They Erected A Monument To Noah. It’s A Statue Of A Bald-Headed Man With A Red Ring Around His Skull. On His Back He Has A Rucksack That’s Grubby And Uncared For. You Could Easily Cram Into It The Whole Herd Of Stupid Asses Who Got The Biggest Credit For Building The Monument. And With Room Left Over.

The Monument Is Actually Very Imposing. The Little Toe Of The Left Foot Alone Is Twenty-Nine Kilometers Long.

The Little Toe Of The Right Foot Is Somewhat Bigger.

 

They Built The Monument On The Moon. In The Place Where Those Who Had The Law In Their Hands Shook Noah’s Cogwheels Right Out Of Him. They Say Noah Spent His Last Moments Cracking Jokes. To Be Honest, Was There Anything Else He Could Have Done? He Was A Revolutionary To Look Up To.

The Statue Looks Out Over The Ruins Of The Flower. In Its Eyes You Can See The Latest And Most Precise Definition Of Emptiness.

Leading Authorities Consider Emptiness The One Remaining Thing We Can Still Define With Relative Precision.

”Emptiness,” Say The Leading Authorities, “Is Best Imagined As A Big Margarine Box With Nothing Inside It. Absolutely Nothing At All.”

And It Was Boxes Like This That Noah Had In His Eyes.

 

On The Way Back There Is A Sign.

Balance sign mankind

 

And finally the garbage men came and took God off the cross. He was snoring so strongly that the whole heaven was shaking. The garbage men have just finished cleaning up the world. Now they were waiting what God will say about the small garbage that took so many days to collect from all over the world into one giant pile. This pile was right under the heaven. God finished snoring and remained silent.

“It would be a good idea,“ remarked the garbage man Foreman, “if He figured out something nice out of that globe. For everyone´s pleasure. Screechers for example.“

“We´re already fed up with pumpkin-heads,“ added the garbage man Youngster.

“And they could look like anything,“ continued the garbage man Eldster. “Maybe like a wilted palish lightly violet nose full of blood-shot veins. Like Yours, my God!“

Eldster stopped. Suddenly he didn´t know where to slap arms on such noses. And, indeed, he needed such arms very much. He wanted to test his own quite good philosophy on those screechers. “Those screechers will be  raising their clasped hands towards heavens several times a day while saying:

“Our daddy, who art in heaven...“


The philosophers have already lost their interest to listen to the garbage men any more. May the rabid threadworms piss on you! Together with your ground aims!“ they sounded off in irritation.

The philosophers´ attack on God was based on a principle. This principle resulted from truth, insisted on truth and adored truth up to heavens. In brief, it could be summarized into five words:

 

God´s justice is an enormous baloney.

 

That´s why the philosophers were so irreconcilable. They formed a chain and stuck a bomb into God´s pants. One after another.

And God didn´t have anything against truth. He just didn´t think that truth can be rolled out as easily as guts upon a table. On this He was one with the philosophers.

Balance virgin doll 

Chirped the pumpkin-head. He was chirping angrily. It was a little angry pumpkin-head.

“I´ll teach you how to play marbles,“ said God to the philosophers. With his heel He made a hole in the wet sand. He was artistically endowed. And He liked to play marbles best.

Everyone needs to excel in something. And everyone compensates with it for something. God excelled in marbles. God didn´t compensate for anything by it. God was perfect.

“Old stuffed-up greyhound,“ croaked the color-head. He was proud that he could croak like a raven and that he had something to tell God.

“Somebody light up those bombs already!“

“Who rolls the last marble into the hole, wins!“

And it thundered in his pants. All of a sudden He was full of smoke. Those standing closest to him flew away somewhere to the garbage collection shacks.

And God straddled away His legs. He puffed up. The philosophers looked compared to Him like tiny buggers. And He growled that one can chuck such a heaven where even the damned marbles cannot be played in peace. He was filled with a terrible godly anger. He was pummeling those philosophical nut-heads left and right. And He was screaming out of delight that they were so amazingly convinced about their own truth and also that they were so amazingly progressive; let them make nothing of it that they look alike like an egg resembles an egg, and that only their peckers are different, even though they are pretty much the same, and that He understands very well what big troubles they have with the difficult fate of the heaven suddenly burdening their shoulders; and definitely they were also troubled by the fact that without them it wouldn´t be so burdensome. He got tired.

“Listen up, I´ve also got glass marbles. Shall we throw some?“ He tempted them.

 

“It´s clear that a knuckle-head will only say a baloney,“ grumbled the philosophers. They were already fed up with it. Beef was thickening.
Balance Yum 

They wound chains around their fists. They were snapping their whips and prodding at God. They wanted to prod like they saw hornets do it, but again and again they were prodding like big blobs of lard. That disgruntled everyone.

Balance Yum
“To an absolute perfection and harmony!“

Balance Yum
 

And the garbage men were cracking up. They had a ball that those oversmart nut-heads were wrestling together like little children. When things started getting tough for God they threw a tattered bag into the midst of that philosophical melee.  Only such rags.

“Sticks, jump out of the bag!“

 

And the philosophers rolled away in a blaze. A couple of them got trapped in the sand up to a half of their ball. They were helplessly brandishing their little dangling fragile hands. About three of them crept over into a tub of pea mayonnaise. They were sinking in it and growling that the truth will win in the end because the truth is likely to be like that.

“Shivel-Eye-Chevvy Mushney Rebee,” said God. He would say that about everything, so until now there was nothing weird about that.

 

 

I.III. Chapter in which you will find out funny nick-names for philosophers


And
with a victorious roar God pulled up to the garbage collection shacks. He was bubbling over with a wonderful feeling about how well everything will turn out. He put a barrel of wine under the wood-shingled roof and started serving the wine right into the garbage men´s snouts.

Wow!“ gasped the garbage men.

And the sun, like a wrinkled prune, was baking into His blue sky where birds seemed to be carelessly chirping. As if they were glued there. Once in a while one of them would unglue itself and plop to the ground like a piece of a rock.

And God enviously looked at their careless fall. He could not understand why everything in the world has to happen as He expected while He cannot even properly imagine a shit with poppy to go along with tobacco. His head was ready to explode. Like when the whole sky crashes upon an over-ripened tomato. Again that sudden depression.

And a horde of philosophers was forming in the distance. Each one of them was clasping 20-inch nails and a giant hammer. A couple of them were pulling a cart with crosses.

They were led by the devil. As always he dressed up as an unkempt bum. He was raising his hands into the air and shouting: “Boo! He messed up everything. That holy boaster! Boo!“ Sparks were flashing from his nostrils. And he was playing the bagpipes.
Balance ay ya

Everyone knew that bagpipes are magical, so nothing has been decided yet. The bagpipes made everyone sad. They made everyone better or something like that.

 

And tears flooded God´s eyes. He remembered how seven days ago His ribby daddy still had everything under His thumb. That was a gala time. Yes, God had a daddy. Like every normal man does. But also like every abnormal man does.

and God had already concluded that all the philosophers can just kiss his ass. but in fact, everybody was already thinking the same thing. he confided to his dad, who praised him for it and added: “maybe everything is otherwise.“

two new ones came out of one philosopher´s nose. at the first sight the one with a small beard was the most genial one in the world. the one with a bigger beard was a bit more genial, and not an ordinary one.

they have nice socks, enviously thought God, but he did not dare to say anything in front of his daddy.

“big deal!“ retorted the new philosophers. they camped out on the outskirts of the Big Sandbox. then they pulled pattypans out of their socks and started making mud-pies while talking a lot.

“most importantly we´re not bothering anyone and have lots to talk about,“ they said. “words like dust,“ they were doing their work left and right. they were making a revolution and they were having quite a lot of fun. they still seemed to be a lot more progressive than the rest. they also had a convincing truth. they didn’t keep it a secret.

“the revolution will cheer everyone up,“ they claimed.

it got dark. meanwhile daddy secretly put in his two lips like two rainworms and unpretentiously eliminated the new ones.

“all misery proceeds from power,“ they still were able to say. “from the power of a holy darkness.“

daddy handed out liquorice lozenges to the rest of philosophers. “well, so what,“ he sighed. as if nothing happened, like always. and he added: “you don´t have it easy.“


and
God recognized the two outcasts by their piss-funny nicknames. and suddenly he experienced a sense of regret. and his daddy gave him a liquorice lozenge.

“they were called Marx and Lenin. their kind would only cause us bedlam,” muttered his daddy. “still, we have a hell of a time with them, don’t we?”

and after a moment God decided not to take it too much to heart. he sucked on the lozenge and rambled on senselessly with his daddy. he realized from their conversation that any time now he would have to rule the whole word. he found it difficult to imagine because according to his Divine Wisdom he was bald all over. and daddy told him that it wasn’t really such a problem; but, all the same, he was pretty churned up. daddy had never drunk. so, suddenly, he found himself wine-less, woman-less and humorless. as he had all his life. so he decided he was better off turning into stone.

 

 

I.IV. Chapter in which you will find out something more about massive heroism,
hedgehogs and revolution

 

And already hordes of philosophers were rolling in like grasshoppers. The garbage men have just been praying before their lunch soup. God was leading them in the prayer. It sounded like this:

Balance shivel eye chevvy prayer

The massive heroes wanted to play the leaders again. They let themselves get stuffed with straw. They were perked up on stuffed horses and held stuffed banners in their stuffed hands:
Balance banner

“Shit with poppy to go along with tobacco!“ God was slapping His thighs in laughter. “It´s concisely expressed and humorous at the same time. But they´re only pretending to be stuffed. Like hedgehogs. That´s their defense,“ explained God to the garbage men. “I do pretending like that sometimes too.“

And Eldster thought that he had enough of that circus up to his ears. He felt like throwing a half of a bucket of red paint right in God’s face. And he started getting that paint ready.

“What have you got that paint for?“ asked God.

 

Hey! If you’re a man, then get up there!“ shouted the philosophers from behind the window blinds as they were making racket with hammers on crosses.

“The whole heaven is full of crazy people,“ murmured Foreman and shut the window by his pig snout so hard that the philosophers were tossed a hundred meters from the shack.

“That´s right,“ quacked in Eldster and added some thinner into the paint.

The philosophers were in a state of shock. It was clear it would be some time before they pulled themselves together. The devil went to them one by one and splashed cold water on them.

“Well, let´s eat,“ said Youngster impatiently.

And the garbage men, except Foreman, who never ate with others, sunk their spoons into beef soup. A pig crawled up on the table and started grunting and alternatively licking Foreman´s snout and the God’s halo.

And God only made a mess of His soup as He was trying to catch the pig and throw it off the table; but it always slipped out of His hands like a well oiled gooseberry.

“Somebody should make something of that heap of rubbish,” said Youngster, suddenly full of emotion. “Something we could look after. As it is, starting tomorrow we haven’t got a thing we can turn our hands to.”

Eldster nodded in agreement although the mention of not enough work had definitely not had him in raptures; actually it had angered him. The garbage men were the same. They got edgy and there were gasps.

And God decided to say nothing, so he said nothing and said nothing until he started to drop off.

 

And the omniscient brain started up with:

 

This Evening, Too, Noah Again Descended Down The Endless Staircase In The Stem Of Flower. His Legs, Now Little More Than Rust, Reminded Him With Every Creak Of The Forty Young Women He Would Have Nothing To Do With.

He Was Afraid Of Nights. Forty Horny Voices Sending Him To Fiery Hell And Damnation. And His Revolutionary Schlong With Him.

Down Bellow, In Front Of The Flower, He Sat Down On A Bench. He Liked These Evenings On The Moon. The Clear Sky. The Setting Third Earth, Red From The Sun. It Was As If A Star Had Fallen Into An Enormous Sea. Or Had Risen From It, He Thought.

He Was Happy That With All His Cares About The Revolution He Still Found Time For This Splendor. Involuntarily He Sketched It With His Finger In The Sand.

Balance sun

And Suddenly He Was Rattling Inside. It Was Irresponsible. He Was Just Gaping Like A Ram. And The Sacred Thing For Which He Had Been Destined Was Withering. He Jumped Up And Said In A Voice Full Of Emotion:

“The Revolution That Sunders Everything Into Slivers! The Revolution As Necessary To Life As Mushney Rebee!”

Balance shivel Eye chevvy

It’s Burning, He Thought. Again He Goggled At The Earth. And He Shouted:

“It’s Burning!”

On The Sign In Front Of The Flower He Scribbled A Message For His Forty Women. Just For Formality’s Sake. The Women Had Never Left The Cup. The Machinery Inside Them Was Happy There.

Balance flood

“It’s Burning!” He Shouted, And Ran Off Towards The Earth.

The Last Wax Material Was Just Burning Out. He Suddenly Felt Sick. He Closed His Eyes So His Mouth Could Vomit Better.

The Breeze Swept Away The Last Dewaxed Thoughts. They Were Squabbling Peevishly. They Were Pointing At Him. He Cursed. The Thoughts Scattered In Fear. He Spat. The Heat Consumed The Saliva.

He Walked On The Razed Walls Of The Boardinghouse. Broken Pipes Were Winding Around His Feet. A Wrought Wire Stabbed His Foot. He Screamed. It Was Humiliating. A Man With Such A Brilliant Mind, And Here He Was Roaring Like A Lion In Pain.

At The Same Time It Was Terrible. He Wrapped His Shirt Around The Wound. After A Brief Rest He Continued. One Step At A Time.

Like A Machine, He Thought.

 

The Petrified God Was Leaning Against A Half Collapsed Wall. The Fire Didn’t Touch Him At All. Even The Colors Remained As Vibrant As Before. It Was Just The Nose That Had A Piece Missing.

“Now Do You See What You’ve Got Yourself Into?” Noah Gently Asked Him. The Wound Was Beginning To Fester.  There Was An Unpleasant Gnashing In His Head After Each Word. He Reeked All Over With The Stink Of Revolution. He Really Was A Revolutionary To Look Up To.

The Statue Twitched Its Truncated Nose. Then The Statue Discreetly Reached Into Its Tunic. It Took Out A Piece Of Paper And Wrote
Balance do you see

Noah Did The Last Remaining Thing He Could Do For Mankind. He Pulled The Chain Of The Toilet Cistern.
Balance chain of the toilet

The Third Earth Was Flushed By A Solution Of Rat-Water And Mango-Flavored Fruit Drink Into The Sewers Of The Universe.

 

And the garbage men, except for Foreman, who never fucked with others, put the pigs on the table and started giving it to them that the stars were bursting with laughter. Occasionally, there was a bewildered chuckle. All were nervous because God still hasn´t said anything about this trash.

“Why are you quiet like a hen on eggs?“ asked Youngster.

“Nothing can come out of nothing,“ made excuses God.

“But that´s nothing,“ sneered Youngster. “That´s trash.“

“It´s clear that a knuckle-head will only say a baloney,“ murmured the pumpkin-heads together with the color-heads. They were already pretty boozed up. They could hardly walk. It was a nice look at them.

“Well, aren´t they beautiful?“ asked God proudly and added that He agreed to create those screechers for them, that He would create them in His own image. To that Eldster immediately barked out: “Shit! I said screechers, not idiots!“ because right then he needed screechers and not idiots.

And God said that it would be much better if they forgot all about it.

And Eldster splashed a half of the bucket of red paint in His face.

 

 

I.V. Chapter in which you will find out whether God liked every philosophy

 

And the devil finally resurrected all the Philosophers. His eyes sparkled and he put them into columns. Below his hooves there suddenly sprang up blue pear-trees. He swished his tail and tore from the vault of heaven a piece of something it had been darned with. For a moment he tossed it between his yucky yucky hands and perhaps was thinking of tearing it to tatters, like the whole heaven. “Go on, tear it, you big horned devil!” the Philosopher goaded him on.

And so he made it into a ball and now had no idea what to do with it. He made a face like he’d lost it somewhere.

“Ah! A ball!” exclaimed God. He was delighted.

At that time the devil changed his tactics. He pulled out a giant boiler. The philosophers were breaking up the crosses and putting on such a fire that the entire heaven was soon full of smoke, steam and heat. Just like in hell.

And the devil pulled God from behind the table and started cooking Him. The water was bubbling like a thunder.

 

“If I’m honest about it, I don’t like philosophy. You , yeah – I like you and also azaleas; but not philosophy,” recounted God.

God had to shout in order to drown out the cracking of the burning crosses: “Everyone knows very well that every philosophy is necessary for a decent life just like a second halo is necessary for me. Every philosophy needs an excess of words in order to explain what values will be important after tomorrow, and why snowmen don´t ride in wheelbarrows! I hope there´s nobody here who would want to read those words, is there?“ he toned down.

“He´s toning down,“ announced an overfattened jolly-eyed centaur.

 

“Maybe I´ll give it another thought about that trash,“ said God to the garbage men. He was already softened up.
And He took in a deep breath. He wanted to see how long he could stay under water. Then He submerged.

“Thunder and hell,“ booed the devil. He was adding armfuls of crosses into the fire. Sweat was streaming down his body. And the rest of celestial beings were sweating like him too.

I should have rather asked them to play some marbles with me, flashed through God´s mind, but not everything has to come to my mind at the right time. He didn´t feel like getting out of the water. He’s already been under water for fifteen minutes. God´s lungs were fathomless.

 

And while the garbage men were rattling His last words, Youngster carefully collected the left-over soup from plates and threw it into a wooden trough painted pink. He hardly filled it half way. Today he won´t get filled up then, he thought.

“At least he didn´t want to play marbles with us,“ said Eldster. “That proves something.“

The discussion stopped at a dead point. Foreman decided not to drag it out any further. He hit the pink trough causing the restful surface of the soup to get rippled with waves, circles and rectangles. Then he got down on his four and stuck his snout into the slop. He started guzzling it.

 

 

I.VI. Chapter in which you will find out how God lost His head


And God was already cooked and exuded a pleasant aroma into air. “Let´s eat Him!“ suggested the pumpkin-heads. “Thirty three minutes!“ shouted God. But He was content. “Well, who can go ahead and do it?“ Obviously no one could do it. And God was even more content.

And the overfattened jolly-eyed centaur wearing knee breeches, in whom one half of the heaven saw nothing unusual, and the other half merely saw a perfectly normal runt, who nevertheless is a marvelous thinker, lay down beneath a baobab and was passively taking the blows of the falling baobab fruit and goofball gremlins. Finally it came to him. He croaked out: “Just no more new principles, that’s all!” And as if by chance he prodded with his stick a ball of excrements on the edge of a sandy track.

It was a good idea. Without a doubt it would help him get through more than one happy life. Perhaps thousands of lives.

And then God said: “Yes, I know. My fate is linked to the ball. Because everything is in the ball, even the absolute. Even also brains and undigested straw.“ He was pathetic because it was convenient for Him.

“There´s nothing on that ball,“ cautioned Him the jolly-eyed centaur who then stuck the stick into the sand. The stick broke.

“And just what should be on it?“ winced God.

“Well, I am not saying that something should be on it,“ explained the jolly-eyed centaur and kicked the ball so hard that it shattered into all directions. The philosophers immediately became like doughnuts sprinkled with poppy-seed. “I´m only saying that there´s nothing on it.“

The outraged philosophers surrounded the jolly-eyed centaur in knee breeches while clamoring. “Maybe it should nonetheless go ahead,“ admitted the jolly-eyed centaur when after an hour of shouting it seemed like something mattered.

“Things should go ahead!“ shouted the enthused philosophers and kept tossing the jolly-eyed centaur up to the heavenly vault. The latter got stuck and remained hanging among the birds. All of a sudden he turned sad that everyone sees in him a perfectly normal runt who nevertheless is a marvelous thinker. He backed up outside behind the vault.

“So, should things go backwards?“ asked the philosophers in doubt.

“They shouldn´t go anywhere!“ said the jolly-eyed centaur to get himself out of the conversation.

The devil wasn´t giving up. He pulled out his last trump card by starting to play the magic bagpipes. From those two giant bellows he had hidden under his smock there were wistful bagpipe tunes gushing out.

Balance Ay Ya Boo
And God submerged again. But the bagpipe tunes were pouring down from all sides even there, Ay! Ay! He was all covered with wistfulness. That´s beginning to be a beautiful afternoon, like a knob stick, he thought.

He was going mad. Ay! His stomach felt like on water. This is no way to live, Ay! Ay! He pondered and with difficulty He leaned His cooked head against the palms of His cooked hands, which was oozing through His cooked fingers. It was rapidly hitting the bottom of the kettle, and from there it was dripping all over the heaven until nothing has been left in His hands.

And He was staggering around in the kettle. He rammed into the copper wall Ay! Ay! and fell through it onto the other side. He plonked like a bagful of fat loaches. Right into the midst of funny mirrors that immediately chirped that he looked very well. He was bald, fat and attractive.

 

And the devil started playing the bagpipes even louder: “And where´s your head?“ And the whole heaven repeated after him: “And where´s your head?“

Balance Ay Ya Short
 


I.VII. Chapter in which you will find out where the writers should go

 

And into this pleasant atmosphere the writers busted in. The fun was immediately going full stream. The devil threw his bagpipes into the corner.

And the writers, who thought of everyone, notwithstanding themselves, as moronic melons, have just thought up a gadget to get stoned that according to them was a supplement for every healthy man and involved all the historical development and dialectics. Then they broke all the windows in heaven one by one. A strong draft was then blowing through the oversized locks of the writers´ hair. God was waving his music wand He got thrust in His hands, and the writers were hopping and skipping the gadget. They were playing hopscotch. “The world is relative!“ they roared in unison, but they were not quite sure. The razzle-dazzle was coming to an end. They were soaked with alcohol like sponges.

“Go take a piss,“ said God.

 

 

I.VIII. Chapter in which you will find out what is more important than everything else

 

And the jolly-eyed centaur in his knee breeches, in good faith that it doesn´t bother anyone, kept constantly repeating: “All my life I´ve only been giving advice on how to move on and pick in shit. At least in my old age I´d like to indulge like a pig in the rye.“ Then he poured himself a few swigs of wine from a wobbling carafe. And round again.

And the carafe tipped over. With His hands God patted out a ball from the wine and sawdust and put it on His neck.

And right away He was like a drunken Rin-Tin-Tin, even with the omniscient brain that croaked:

Noah Was Running A Fever. On The Endless Staircase He Suffered With Every Step. The Wound On His Foot Was Festering. It Was Only On All Fours That He Made It Into The Cup. In The Centre Of The Room There Stood The President. Noah’s Wives Were Coiled Up By The Wall And Taken Apart By A Herd Of Over-Aged Politicians.

“The Guilty Party Has Arrived,” Said The President. There Was A Babble Of Agreement From The Over-Aged Ones.

The President Had An Encouraging Demeanor. It Suited Him, But To Be Quite Certain He Looked At Himself in The Mirror. He Asked The Most Important Thing That Only A President Could Ask:

“Mirror, Mirror On The Wall, Who Is The Fairest Of Them All?”

“Shivel-Eye-Chevvy Mushney Rebee,” Rang Out The Mirror. It Was Having A Joke At The President’s Expense.

And The President Frowned. And That Didn’t Suit Him At All.

“Of Course, You Are The Fairest Of Them All,” Cackled The Mirror, “You Old Dumbbell!”

“There Is No Telling In Politics!” Said Noah Genially. The Over-Aged Politicians Again Babbled In Approval. Everybody Was Relieved.

“You Are The Last One Left,” Said The President. “There’s Always Got To Be Someone Guilty! And The Guilty One Is You!”

He Produced A Sound As If He Had Snapped His Fingers. The Politicians Flocked Around Noah.

“Your Last Words,” Said The President.

“I Never Was For Big Speeches,” Muttered Noah. That Was All He Had To Say.

 

“Here We Are,” Said A Guy In Glossy Overalls. The Over-Aged Politicians Babbled. They Were Fed Up With The Exhausting Journey. Noah Was Making Fun Of It All. He Was Cramming Margarine Boxes Into His Eyes. He Said:

“What You Want To Do With Me Is Stupid. Me And The Revolution, We’re Timeless. And Besides – It’s Unjust.”

“Perhaps It Is Really Unjust,” Conceded The President. “For A Few Innocuous Words…”

The Politicians Were Smiling With Satisfaction. It Was All So Pleasant. And Noah Was Smiling Too. One Politician Even Said:

“Because We Turned Into Good Human Beings, We Didn’t Become Revolutionaries. It Pisses Me Off. But That Is, I Think, The Most Important Thing.”

Then The Guy In Glossy Overalls Delivered A Few Words About The Law And Few Words From The Law. And He Shook Everything Out Of Noah.

 

 

I.IX. Chapter in which you will find out what´s really going on

 

And the devil took the windbags from the corner. He´s been taking them since yesterday. Only today he has succeeded.

balance ay ya short 

And each philosopher had something similar. They weren´t exactly bagpipes, but they sounded plausibly.

And suddenly God relished to say something encouraging to himself. Why exactly encouraging? He didn´t know. It broke Him down. He emptied another carafe and grumbled: “Damned goofheads!“

Balance Ay Long Red 

And God could no longer just passively look on. So He started talking. He carefully picked His words and probably talked with a broad view and wisdom because nobody was listening. It was clear that they wanted to blow Him off.
And so He forced those, who were playing the bagpipes closest to Him, to take several marbles, and He repeated His words again. In more detail.

“And that´s not enough that I´ve been cooking marmalade for you all the summer, and that I´m still taking care of your asses? That should be enough for you, shouldn´t it?“

“Hip, hip, hurray!“ yelled the heaven. It fit quite well into that bagpipe music.

“Don´t you want the gadget to get stoned?!?“ shouted the writers.

“I´m with you!“ blurted out God. “I´ll do for you whatever you want!“

Balance Ay Ya Short
And the writers threw the gadget to get stoned at God´s bald spot. It fitted Him just right. New belly of the heaven was in the world. Great. The writers were again pretending as if it was intentional.

“Hip, hip, hurray!“

And God sighed in despair for the first time. Ay! “Things can´t go on like this anymore,“ He sobbed. But not for long. He was God, and He could not have given it a shit about my book that originally was intended to be a good book about good philosophers and good philosophy.

And He turned the devil into a Nymph, and the Big Sandbox with all its cheerful philosophers into a small pond with scared nymphs.

And the whole heaven was grasping their heads sighing: “Maybe it´s just a dream.“ But the dream it was not.

And it looked like God didn´t stop there. As if in a trance, He aimed His veiny claws at the garbage men. They hardly got out of the way. They could have become big-titted foxes.

“Sticks, jump out of the bag!“

 

And then God defended himself with His hands and love for all that His tearful eyes beheld, and especially with the notion that He had always meant well. The sticks took no notice of this. They chased Him all the way back to His home while hitting Him left and right.

“The stupider, the better!” hollered the writers jumping around the gadget to get stoned. They played the hopscotch again. They were sweet. As always when they were so drunk legless you could roll them.

And then the real circus began. The whole heaven split up into loads of camps. Each camp proclaimed something different, from salad to free jazz. And that went on until they all began to realize that the main thing was to get pleasure out of it.

  

 

I.X. Chapter in which you will find out about the best idea in God´s life

 

“Well, stop rolling out those big eyes like balls, you nincompoop,“ said Youngster. And God suddenly felt like someone had thrusted a cuckoo clock into Him.

”Have you never thought of fleeing?” enquired Foreman. He felt like crying. Outside a big celebration started going on. They were making goulash. They were having beef soup. Everywhere freedom was in charge. Bellies were bloating. Only they had to stick it out here and squabble like little children. Foreman burst into tears, but cried inversely - down the inside of his cheeks. His face swelled up and now his porky snout was even porkier than before.

All this seemed very dull to the garbage men. They looked out of the windows and gasped. Some of them pulled out pigs from their pockets. And so another hour passed.

His living room was illuminated by fireworks and God finally remarked:

“And who’ll hide me, cuckoo, if I run away from you, cuckoo? You?”

Balance Cuckoo

Youngster patted Him hard on His bald spot with a club and said: “How are we going to hide you if you are running before us?“

“Who would even want to hide Him?“ curiously said Eldster. “Such a ...“

“It depends how far he´s going to get,“ said Foreman.

“And how far am I going to get? Cuckoo!“ God turned pale.

“And just where would you like to get to?“ asked Foreman, but it wasn´t possible to look at those fat over-stuffed bodies anymore.

Youngster tickled God´s feet with the club and said: “So, for God´s sake, do something with that heap of rubbish.“

And God got up, pointed His finger at the ball and said:

 

“And let there be light.“ 

 

“Why have you just said: and let there be light?“ Youngster got teed off and started hitting Him hard all over with the club. The cuckoo clock went totally berserk in Him, and because he considered ´and let there be light´ as the best idea of His life, He was only grumbling: Cuckoo! By that time everyone was already rushing out, eating and drinking, spilling goulash at each other, lighting up fire-crackers, playing hopscotch, slapping out the cards, chasing nymphs in the pond and having fun with it all.

 

 

I.XI. Chapter in which you will find out why God screwed it all up like that

 

And God was coming to himself in a puddle of goulash. Devilishly pretty Nymph was still pressing the celestial beings to her devilishly pretty breast. Even though not all celestials were on the breast yet, it seemed the queue in front of Nymph was not getting shorter but rather longer and longer. And God was standing at the end of the queue nodding off.

And His omniscient brain was still chirping to Him about what Eldster and Youngster will experience on the third Earth.

They Passed By The Memorial Of Tridafor Clemark. They Entered Into The Dimly Lit Room Of The C Club. On The Floor Fugs Of Dust Were Rolling Around. The Neon Light Advertisements Did Not Work. Only Here And There A Piece Of The Tube Flickered.

They Sat At A Table Near The Door. They Did Not Feel Like Drinking With The Mankind? More And More They Were Thinking About Themselves. And Also About Other Things, But Particularly About Themselves. They Didn’t Even Have Anything To Talk About. The Recipe For Beef Soup They Had Already Brought To Perfection Long Time Ago.

The Bar Room Was Gaping With Emptiness. There Were Only Two Dingily Clad Fading Beauties Sitting At The Next Table. One With Brown Hair And The Other One With Red Hair.

They Were Babbling. The Waiter In A Worn Out Tuxedo Was Checking Out The Visitors. At First They Looked Familiar, But Later They Didn’t Mean Anything To Him.

As Comfortably As Possible, The Waiter Sat At The Bar. He Was Having Fun. First He Politely Asked Himself For A Drink. Then He Bowed To Himself, And Politely Poured Himself A Drink.

 

After A Half An Hour, Youngster Helped Himself To A Bottle Of Wine And Two Glasses. The Waiter Has Just Been Ordering Something From Himself.

The Brown-Haired Beauty Passed By Them As She Was Heading Towards The Toilet. On The Way Back, She Fixed Her Eyes Upon Something Above Youngster´s Head. As If Somewhere There Was A Crucified Death Hanging. Youngster Shyly Bowed His Head. He Turned Red. His Breath Quickened And He Started Coughing.

“I Think She Likes You,“ Said Eldster In Amazement.

“So What,“ Retorted Youngster.

The Eyes Of Eldster Lit Up. He Has Never Seen Such Over-Ripened, Wilted And Drunk Women In His Life Yet. He Wanted Them.

“You Chicken,“ He Was Keeping Up The Conversation.

Youngster Frowned, And Wiped Off A Fluff Of Foam From His Mouth With The Back Of His Hand. Eldster Started Thinking That He Was Going Too Far. He Apologized: “I Wasn´t Talking To You.“

“I Know Very Well Who You Were Saying That To.“

“Well, Who?“ Eldster Was Poking.

“Surely Not To Me?,“ Snapped Youngster.

They Finished The Drink. The Wine Was Quickly Getting To Their Heads.

“Tell Them That We Love Them,“ Kept Bothering Youngster.

The Eyes Of Eldster Sparkled. He Straightened Up And Hesitantly Looked At The Next Table. The Fading Beauties Clemently Smiled, And The Red-Head Then Finished The Sentence:

“... And This Is Why We Live Only Once.“

“Isn´t That Funny?“ Wondered The One With Brown Hair. “Why Only Once?“

Eldster Sank Into The Chair. “Ah, I Can´t Articulate Anymore,“ And Waved His Hand.

 

And Foreman got into the queue right behind God. He conjured up a chamber pot from somewhere and seated God on it while threatening: “After all you gave them the whole history. And a dumb one ... like for dummies. Nicely wrapped and with a pink ribbon around it. And what are they going to do with such a dumb life now?“

 

“Foreman won´t get anywhere with Him anyway,“ explained Eldster to the gadget to get stoned. They were hiding in the rhubarb. They understood each other. “He´s too soft, and seating God on the chamber pot is the most he can do.“

 

“Cuckoo! I´ve given them a form. A definite final form, Cuckoo! because all my forms are definitely final. Cuckoorookookoo!“ said God in the way He used to learn it from the philosophers. “At least I´ve made the history for them in My own image. What do you say?“

Balance Cuckoo
And
He slapped His thighs and flushed away the cuckoo clocks.

“Why did you screw it all up like that!?!” Foreman got teed off.

And God announced: “I wanted it to be so.“ He didn´t want to say anything else. His turn came up in the queue.

 


 


 


Before then

or

how we rightfully got used to wiping

our butts with the American nation

 

 

People, if you want to be bad to each other,

then at least be really so,

or go to sleep.

May God help you do so.

 

Tridafor Clemark

 




II.I. Chapter in which you will find out about intestinal gases
of a fat-bellied political commissar

 

And it was light. The racket made Brshleek crawl out of his featherbeds. The small, mid-size and big politicians had to recite enthusiastic speeches in the courtyard of the boardinghouse. Speeches full of far-seeing clairvoyance and optimism. Speeches about a happy future and a difficult past. Speeches in which they were promising

grub,

a lot of grub,

overstuffed money holders and more grub.

 

As if the air has never been ventilated here, thought Brshleek. And shaking the dust off of himself he flung the window wide open.

“Even bigger money holders!“ someone echoed from below.

“Shut up those big fat asses!“ shouted Brshleek. Along with others like him.

“You have to have grub. You and others like you!“

There was a bang of a bomb. A few politicians were carried away. Those who have been crunching on the grub on the side until now stood up and started:

“Enough of talking. All of us need to have grub. We do. You do!“

It was clear like a light. Nothing could be said against it.

“Whose fault is it?“ echoed from one of millions of boardinghouse windows. As a habit. A silence of uneasiness fell.

Balance Crunch
“Let´s allow the people to have the word,“ remembered the politicians. Today it took them quite a while.

“My dear dummlings and babblerlings,“ addressed them Brshleek. “All that has been thought up is good for crap.“ He was kidding. And he salted them real well with a flowered salt shaker. He was still kidding. The politicians got lost in a salt blizzard.

A few seconds later a fat-bellied political commissar rushed in. He grumpily looked around while rubbing his weakened heart.

“You´re fucking up the values that took us years to arduously establish,“ he said to Brshleek. He was glad that he could add a punch line to his sentence so well. It made him quite endearing. Except for those terrible intestinal gases.

“You castrated hob-goblin!“ sputtered out Brshleek.

“What?“ asked the fat-bellied political commissar who didn´t understand. He had a look as if he had just swallowed something after which every pig would certainly have spoken in a human language.

Balance Prf
“You all are castrated hob-goblins!“ explained Brshleek.

 

“The most important is the return to good old times,“ the politicians kept saying who had just scrounged up a bagful of carrots from somewhere. Cruuunch! Cruuunch! “Getting your rocks off all day and night – and the hell with everything else.” They got sentimental and started shedding tears as if someone had shut them in a big onion. That´s what they got from the author as a reward. Or something like that. Man, I wonder, doesn´t that show-jumping into the plot bother you?

Meanwhile, the fat-bellied political commissar erected his head. Brshleek almost groaned when the political commissar´s backbone noisily crackled. A bit under the ceiling a gaping head full of gills started floating apart into all directions.

“You´ve got a starving shark in your head,“ said Brshleek. “Whole squadrons of sharks.“

And that head was still floating up – and down. Like a freckled shark balloon. It was horrifying.

The man wearing glossy white overalls came in. He drilled big holes into the bellies of both of them, filled the holes with gun powder and told them: “Enjoy it!“ So they enjoyed it.

“Have you ever imagined that you could have looked like a two-meter nose?“ spoke Brshleek. “Or like a booming fodder beet?“

“The guinea rabbits are ready!“ shouted the man in the corridor. “Roll it!“

Little sizzling fires were approaching along the igniter cords. Now the fat-bellied political commissar was enjoying it less. He touched a scapular on his chest and clasped it. His knuckles turned white. His shark fish were shivering restlessly as if trying to dance some kind of a perverted samba.

“I, His Majesty, wonder what will come out of it after it goes bang,” spoke a voice of Conman from below. Conman was the President at that time, and that´s why he was speaking the loudest of them all. “But now I’m already stunned by those colossal perspectives. Everything will be a hundred, no, a million times bigger!“

“And even more grub, and even more overstuffed money holders!“

“Bag, shake up!“ And immediately huge heaps of carrots started flying out of the bag. Like a ceremonial firework of carrots.

And Conman has just discovered a new dimension of his humanistic politics. He said: “And I, His Majesty, am going to have a schlong that I can put like a setting pole across the whole universe. Isn´t that awesome?!?“

It was awesome.

“Better yet the new President,“ came from someone in the corridor.

The fat-bellied political commissar got angry and yelled out: “Yeah, you over there! You´re fucking up the values that took us years to laboriously build!“

Balance prf many
By that time the fire was right in front of Brshleek´s eyes. I´ll run away, he thought and pulled the explosive charge out of his belly. The fat-bellied political commissar grabbed him by the neck and screamed: “Enjoy it! Enjoy it!“

 

BOOM-KABOOM!

 

An excited hullabaloo came from outside. A million times bigger and blackened by smoke the fat-bellied political commissar dropped to the floor. His giant head was sticking out somewhere in heaven, just a bit away from the Nymph´s devilish breast. He was gaping at those tits and tearing the scapular into narrow shreds. They looked like a steak of botched up gills. He was already completely smothered by them. 

 

“It was I who had created such a head,“ puffed up God. Eldster limped up to the head and muttered into its giant ear: “Tell us, our Daddy who art in heaven.“

 

“Even more overstuffed money holders and even more grub!“ rejoiced the politicians.

“Very well then, let´s do a repeat,“ agreed Conman. He was the chummy President who has never missed an opportunity to let everyone notice it.

“Better yet the new President!“

“But don´t they look like gills?“ came a voice from beneath the tattered scapular.

I´ll run away, Brshleek promised to himself and gave a slap to the man in white overalls. He flopped down like a sack of mayonnaise salad. Together with a drill and another armful of gun powder.

Brshleek grabbed the suitcase and started running away.

 

 

II.II. Chapter in which you will find out about Brshleek´s impact on history

 

Brshleek´s escape took place in the left area of the boardinghouse. In the right area mostly American nation lived. The purpose of this nation´s existence was to fill meaningful programs that God had predestined for it. That´s why this nation has revered God so much.

 

Its origin was a combination of all nations in the boardinghouse.

 

Since the beginning it has been a monstrously self-conceited and a monstrously wealthy nation. Its citizens looked upon other nations like upon little white mice. They were doing experiments on them.

 

...

Author´s note: so now that we have the introduction behind us, we can skip a couple of decades of interesting chapters, and we will have only a few chapters to skip in the remaining body of the text. Here is a list of skipped chapters:

II.II. Chapter in which you will find out about Brshleek´s impact on history (only the beginning part of this chapter has been publicized)

II.III. Chapter in which you will find out about what makes the world turn around

II.IV. Chapter in which you will find out about all the people that lived on the floor

II.V. Chapter in which you will find out about the President´s pearl

II.VI. Chapter in which you will find out how Brshleek taught himself to peek into the future

II.VII. Chapter in which you will find out about what God did a couple of hours after creating the Earth

II.VIII. Chapter in which you will find out how God managed to chase moles

II.IX. Chapter in which you will find out who is suitable for what in heaven

II.X. Chapter in which you will find out what it would be like if Brshleek fell into chocolate

II.XI. Chapter in which you will find out about good advice of the snitcher No. 13

II.XII. Chapter in which you will find out what everybody was cooking up that morning

II.XIII. Chapter in which you will find out that even the snitchers had a soul

II.XIV. Chapter in which you will find out about how the snitchers were officially inaugurated

 

 

II.XV. Chapter in which you will find out about exhilarating announcements of the politicians

 

A group of politicians added a few exhilarating announcements to the common good atmosphere. They have always had enough of them.

Brshleek did not even want to believe that once upon a time in the beginning everyone looked at these successful politicians like at something that had never been here before, and that now, towards the end of their fabulous careers, everyone looks at them like at a crap that rambles on top of it.

“We don´t have it easy,“ they sighed while cooking up things so hard, that sweat was trickling from their brows. And they were mutually wiping it off of each other´s face.

And Brshleek told himself that he will put an end to this circus. He put a bomb into the President´s pantaloons. He shouted out:

“Folks, thank God it´s the end of this circus! I´ve solved it for you.“ And he lit the fuse. Everybody took cover on the ground.

After a few minutes of dead silence little sparklets broke forth from the President. There was a bang all over that made the windows rattle. A serftroll all out of breath came running out from behind the door. He was nicknamed Corrector who served to correct the President. But as he was afraid of

ketchup

democracy

sex

horseback riding

communism

and fire

he rather made himself completely malfunction as he was looking upon the sparkling President.

A little while later a corrector designated to correct the President´s corrector emerged from around the corner. As soon as he noticed the totally malfunctioning serftroll, who, he always believed, was called Bono-bo - particularly funny to him since he himself has never had any nickname - he rather preferred to hit himself with the first rock he could lay his hands on.

The corrector designated to correct the corrector designated to correct the President´s corrector has just turned over to the other side. He was sleeping. His time switch was turned to the position

Balance switch
There were still two and a half hours remaining to start work.

The earthlings were going crazy with excitement and were grateful for this exquisite circus. “Long live the President!“

And the President kept on sparkling in contentment. He, too, was delighted. And moved by emotion. He covertly wiped off his little tear.

“Damn!“ flared up the politicians. “Something gets fixed somewhere, and something blows up elsewhere! Why, it is clear like a lightning.“ They were unhappy. For effect. Of course. “Don´t you rather want to add some cheerful news? For free.“

Nobody wanted to.

“It doesn´t matter,“ said the politicians. “We didn´t succeed this time, but next time we´re definitely going to make it.“

“Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!“

 

Cheering lasted until the serftroll repaired the President. By that time everyone already had that quality American-Russian-Chinese ‘beef soup’ cooked up.

“Castrated hob-goblins!“ shouted Brshleek. He was getting another bomb ready. In the end he threw it in garbage. Maybe it did not make any sense.

 

The repaired President silenced the ovation: “Snitchers, take the citizens and snitch and snitch. Don´t let an ant get away!“

“Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!“

 

And Brshleek started rotating his head and peeking into the future. And Immediately He Felt A Mighty Gust Of Love. He Loved Nymph. He Was Devilishly Attracted To Her. At That Time The Mankind Had Already Had Amazing Progress Behind Itself. In A Couple Of Years It Has Learnt To Mess Everything It Put Its Hands On. And It Learnt How To Cook A Good Beef Soup. Besides That It Has Gained An Honorable Knowledge Of

Universe

Chess

Antagonism

Bugs

Corn

And Cancer.

And Maybe It Serves To Its Honor That It Has Never Understood Why From Time To Time It Must Kill Itself Off, Why From Time To Time It Must Sleep With Someone, And Why The Shit Doesn´t Sing.

Although It Is Clear That The Mankind Knew How To Exactly Explain All This.

 

Brshleek Loved Nymph. He Stuck A Thick Cap On His Head. Then He Wrapped A Striped Scarf Around His Neck. And He Rushed Off To Heaven.

It Was A Slow Trip. Almost On Every Floor He Had To Struggle Through Decimated Groups Of Snitchers. They Were Smoking Grass And Aimlessly Roaming Back And Forth.

“Let´s Join The Pataphysicists!“

“Jesus Christ, And Why?!?“

“Well, We Won´t Join Them Then!“

“Jesus Christ, And Why?!?“

The Blue Pear-Trees Caused Almost The Entire Ground Floor To Crumble. Cobwebs Of Cold Were Coming Out Of The Cracks. And Everyone Had Already Been Shrivelled White. Like Spider Carcasses.

From The Opposite Direction An Extraterrestrial With A Backpack Full Of Wine Was Making His Way Through Towards Him.

“Where Did You Get So Much Wine From?“ Asked Brshleek.

“Stealing Is Below The Standard,“ Pondered The Extraterrestrial. “Right Away People Will Look At You Like At A Thief. He Handed Him A Bottle. There Was Still Something Left On The Bottom. “I´m Just Walking Around. I Couldn´t Stand It Down There Anymore. Yesterday A Group Of Snitchers Busted Into My Room. They Hit The Wall And Marched On. There Could´ve Been About Ten Thousand Of Them. I Don´t Understand How They Could Had Even Fitted There,“ He Pulled Out Another Bottle From The Backpack. “Maybe They’ve Been Marching There Till Now.“

But The Cork Wouldn´t Let Go. The Extraterrestrial Broke Off The Bottle Neck. Then Other Broken Loose Snitching Weasels Tumbled Out Towards Them. Already Many Normal Citizens Had Joined Them.

The Extraterrestrial Gave Him A Friendly Hug Around His Shoulders. Then He Showed Him A Shortcut He Had To Take So That Everything Would Rapidly Improve In Simple Passage Of Time. It Had To Do With A Clear Example Of Causal Logic Progressing In A Clockwise Fashion. Generally, The Point Of It Was That In The Universe Characterized By Entropy Declining With Time There Will Also Be A Subjective Time Of Extraterrestrials, Particularly Earthlings, Going In Reverse. Since Tridafor Clemark Intentionally Did Not Take Passing Of Divine Time Into Consideration, A Tautology Of The Second Thermodynamic Theorem Beautifully Crystallized Out Of It For Him, In Other Words, Entropy Increases With Time So That The Direction Of Progressing Time Could Be Determined As A Direction In Which A Universal Mess Increases. The Problem Was That At This Point The Extraterrestrial Let Himself Get Carried Away And He Spilled Out The Rest In More Than A Fluent Ionese Lashed With Clemark´s Accent.

Brshleek Was Amazed At The Simplicity Of The Trick. And Also At The Fact That It Was Good For Nothing To Him.

And The Extraterrestrial Pressed The Bottle To Brshleek´s Lips.

“But There Are Splinters In It!“ Shouted Brshleek Pushing Him Away.

“That´s Exactly The Point Of The Joke,“ Sneered The Extraterrestrial. “It´s Good For Nothing To Everyone, And Meanwhile It´s As Clear As A Lightning.“

 

At The Foot Of The Ladder There Was Karen Waiting. She Was Making Brshleek Do With Her Whatever He Wanted.

“I Would Get Along With My Son Real Well, If It Weren´t My Son,“ She Whispered. “And You´re Like My Son, And At The Same Time You´re Not. Interesting.“

Brshleek Sat Down Further Away. He Didn´t Want To Touch Her. He Loved Nymph.

“All Right,“ Decided Karen. “I Won´t Fornicate Anymore, And I´ll Rather Be Cheerful.“

Brshleek Turned Sad. He Put On Clothes. He Felt He Was Losing. Fornicating With Her Was Like Making Love To A Jug Full Of Water. He Said:

“Fornicating With You Was Like Making Love To A Jug ...“

“Everybody Tells Me That,“ She Interrupted Him.

Then They Laid Down. He Rattled Her. “You Plop Nicely,“ He Mumbled.

The Marble Floor Felt Really Cold. Karen Was Pouring Wine Over Him. She Was Dancing. His Ears Were Full Of Wine. He Didn´t Hear Anything.

Karen Had An Orgasm. She Was Yelling: “Pffh!“

Brshleek Was Squinting At Her Mouth. It Was Open. He Didn´t Hear Anything.

 

PFFH!

 

A group of people living upstairs was arguing about what to do. In the end, all being one they surrounded the President and pulled his pantaloons down. “We don´t want snitchers.“

“My dear fellows,“ the President started weeping out of emotion. “I, His Majesty, am asking you what are we going to do about it?“ he shouted into the loudspeakers. It turned out to be a terrible havoc.

Balance millwheel 

sang the group living upstairs and banged the President.

“We want nothing! Simply nothing at all! Leave us in peace! We can live even without you and without your once revolutionary and then evolutionary control – even without your hogwash!“ And the President got another bang to keep him straight. “Since you want to quack so badly, go and quack among yourselves in a tavern. A crow sits with a crow, a man with a man, a president with a president and a politician with a politician. You don´t have to tell us anything heuristic. Is it so difficult to understand?“

“I, His Majesty, declare that you´ve burnt me really good by saying that you want nothing,“ the President turned sad. Maybe he was disgusted too. His pantaloons were still rolled down below his knees. “Since things are like this, I, His Majesty, say that we should start thinking about what to do next. After all, we can´t break up just like that and go picking raspberries. We are the mankind, and we still can do a lot of things. Yet everyone will be gaping how good we are!“

“The President is naked!“ shouted a child pointing its finger at him.

“Cuckoo!“ cried the President.

And it was late in the afternoon, and the smell of ‘beef soup’ was filling the air everywhere.

 

 

...

Author´s note: a list of skipped chapters:

II.XVI. Chapter in which you will find out about separating people into rightists and leftists

II.XVII. Chapter in which you will find out about a dealer of obituaries

II.XVIII. Chapter in which you will find out about what happened tomorrow

II.XIX. Chapter in which you will find out about the arrival of souls in heaven

II.XX. Chapter in which you will find out what evil is good for

II.XXI. Chapter in which you will find out that God has decided to do something after all

II.XXII. Chapter in which you will find out how significant the mankind´s conceptual perspectives are

II.XXIII. Chapter in which you will find out what Tridafor Clemark stuffed in his mouth every night

II.XXIV. Chapter in which you will find out what souls turned the heaven into

II.XXV. Chapter in which you will find out about celestial toys

II.XXVI. Chapter in which you will find out what an outstanding fun Brshleek used to have in the C Club

II.XXVII. Chapter in which you will find out about an egalitarian society

II.XXVIII. Chapter in which you will find out what a beautiful birthday Brshleek experienced

II.XXIX. Chapter in which you will find out what the pyramid of foxy babes is

 

 

II.XXX. Chapter in which you will find out about all this Brshleek can offer to such an extraterrestrial

 

Brshleek crawled into the machine for cooking goulash and started drinking really hard with the extraterrestrial. He gathered all the booze the world could ever have invented. With difficulty he amassed it into one pile.

The extraterrestrial started talking about how the world was coming along. He was talking from his rich travel experiences.

“We´re all only such big twerps,“ he concluded.

In response Brshleek threw a lemon at his head. “Please, what´s the matter with you?“ he asked him. “You just hit a little of booze and already you see all the way around the corner.“

And the extraterrestrial guzzled down another bottle. Then he pulled out a little notebook with his philosophical tract. He crossed out the old motto

Balance tract wine nat 

And Brshleek started rotating his head And Left The Extraterrestrial. He Was Pulling Nymph Into A Dingy Museum Of Our Times. As They Were Passing By The C Club, They Had To Huddle Up Behind, A Monument Of Tridafor Clemark. Somebody Was Getting Flattened Out There.

Nymph Caught A Sight Of A Man Falling Into The C Club. She Pulled On Brshleek´s Sleeve. She Whispered:

“Won´t You Even Help Him?“

Brshleek Helplessly Shrugged His Shoulder. The Inside Of His Head Rattled: “I Think We Used To Do Something Like That Constantly. Now It Would Finally Be Right To Do Something Superbly Outstanding. A Breakthrough.“

A Scabbed Butler Opened A Heavy Oak Gate For Them. He Walked Them To A Dining Hall. Candles Were Flickering. Nymph Was Snuggling Up To Brshleek And Brshleek To Her. They Liked Each Other Very Much. They Finished Eating. They Sank Their Greasy Hands Into A Bowl Of Pink Water. Nymph Wiped Her Wet Fingers In Her Tunic. The Material Got Wet. It Turned Transparent.

Brshleek Jumped On Her Back. “Not Here,“ She Murmured And Tensed Up Her Devilish Rear. Brshleek Sandwiched Her Between Dishes On The Table.

Nymph Pulled A Cake Towards Herself. She Ate. The Cake Was Sweet And Covered With Fresh Strawberries. Brshleek Was Sighing.

 

In The Morning He Left With Nymph For The Church. They Were Asking For Forgiveness Prostate Before Masks Of Divine Figures. In A While They Got An Absolution. They Started Leading A Godly Life.

A Lot Later They Got Tired Of Asking For Forgiveness Every Day. So They Wrote Out Pardons Themselves. This Principle Had Already Been Used By The Whole World For A Few Years. That World Also Was Leading A Godly Life.

 

In Front Of The Church Entrance God Was Sweeping Cigarette Butts. He Was All Tear-Stained Because He Had Had To Eat Up So Many Tanks. And He Felt Sick In The Stomach.

He Made A Pile Of Butts And Made Another Step. He Made Another One And Wind Blew. The Butts Scattered Over The Pavement. God Ridged His Face. His Eyes Blinked. He Got Back To Work Again.

When Brshleek And Nymph Came Out Of The Church He Felt Very Relieved.

“There Is Nobody Around To Put Things In Order Here,“ He Complained. “Doesn´t Perhaps The Mankind Have Anything To Be Grateful To Me For?“

“Shivel-Eye-Chevvy Mushney Rebee!“ Brshleek Was Consoling Him.

 

“We Should Get Married,“ Nymph Reminded Brshleek. And So One Day Brshleek Married Her In Front Of God´s Face. When They Were Returning In Trio From The Church, God Was Unpretentiously Lecturing Him: “You Can´t Rot Here Like ...“

“Like What?“ Laughed Brshleek.

“What Do You Want To Do Here? Go To Church Every Day Or What?“ Barked Out God. He Wanted To Lure Brshleek To Heaven. So That They Could Have A Real Good Drink Anytime. And Chatter. So That He Wouldn´t Feel Lonesome. And So That He Could Gape At Him And Nymph Like A Mouse Suddenly Ploughed Out From The Ground.

Brshleek Knew What God Meant. And God Knew That Brshleek Knows It. So Be It, He Still Is God.

“Like What?“ Brshleek Kept On Teasing.

“Like Something That Rots,“ Said God And Winked Conspiratorially.

Nymph Yawned. “You Shouldn´t Stick Anything Else New Into Your Conversation.“

She Saddened Both By This Opinion. “Nothing New Will Fit In There Anyway,“ Eased Down God.

 

God Got Drunk. He Stood Up And Wanted To Propose A Wedding Toast. He Couldn´t Find Suitable Words. He Remained Silent. Brshleek Closed His Eyes And Leaned His Head On The Corner Of The Table.

“What Are You Doing?“ God Got Offended.

“Go To Hell,“ Brshleek´s Voice Spilled On The Table Cloth.

“I Can´t Say That It Would Do Me Any Good,“ Grumbled God And Pulled Up His Chair Closer To Nymph. God Was Horny And Drunk As A Skunk.

Nymph Raised Her Skirt. Absent-Mindedly She Pulled Her Dazzling White Panties Slightly To The Side. They Were Made Of A Fresh Fallen Snow. God Knelt Down. He Leeched Unto Her Thighs. He Was Sliding His Tongue Higher And Higher. The Same Way He Saw Brshleek Do It. The Panties Thawed Away. God Was Licking The Snow Topped Devil´s Pie. It Was Covered By Dark Hair. With Boiling Drops Of Icy Crystals. Nymph Fittingly Spread Her Legs. Deeply In Thought, She Was Stroking His Bald Spot With One Hand, And With Other She Was Eating A Strawberry Covered Cake.

 

 

II.XXXI. Chapter in which you will find out about chapter II.XXXI. of Rosa´s novel

 

Shortly after the extraterrestrial conference began, Rosa slipped out to write a novel. The work was going like a piece of cake. The novel was pleasingly growing. He has just started dealing with a nebulizer while describing the origin of an artistic heaven.

The nebulizer was a device that a good or bad hero of his book could install instead of the mouth in order to be top-notch in everything.

The main hero without a nebulizer mostly talked about how we all could be like pigs in rye if we were more like pigs and had more rye; about love among people to which he could not add anything, because he was a terrible son-of-a-bitch, and he could not imagine that we all could suddenly like each other. But that did not bother him as much as the fact that today he has not screwed a super hot chic yet, although he did not even know whether he would want one.

The main hero with the nebulizer was talking about the same thing, but he was clearly top-notch.

 

...

Author´s note: a chapter skipped:

II.XXXII. Chapter in which you will find out how the artistic heaven came into being

 

 

II.XXXIII. Chapter in which you will find out something else about the egalitarian society

 

And He kept wiping His sweaty face with the edge of His tunic. He did not see Crazy Bat´s soul anywhere. It got lost somewhere among Ogrefreaks.

“Where is that divine yahoo!“ yelled God. “He will dearly pay for this!“

The egalitarian society was already running full blast. The jolly-eyed centaur was sprawled out on a throne in the middle of the Island. Foreman was fanning him with a folding fan while slurping from a little pink trough. Left and right, in the front and in the back monkeys were marching lined up in straight rows and waving pink pom poms.

“We´re doing fine! We´re doing fine!“ chanted the monkeys. They were throwing confetti around and cheered. In turn, the jolly-eyed centaur was rubbing them with an ointment that heals all problems. Next, the artists marched. He was rubbing them and their art with the ointment that heals everything too. And everything got healed.

“All art is good!“ rejoiced the artists. “It depends on a period of time.“

“We´re doing fine!“ rejoiced Foreman. “Extremely fine.“ He tore the folding fan into pieces. He put the little trough under his arm and went away to the very end of the island. Far away from everyone. He was guzzling and throwing dishwater all over the world.

If he likes it, let him stay guzzling there till the end of the book.

“We are doing great!“ rejoiced Crazy Bat´s soul.

“Fine is good enough,“ said the jolly-eyed centaur humbly and added some more ointment.

“We´re doing fine!“ rejoiced Grandpop´s soul. “And we´ll be doing even better. Numbers speak a clear language. Art will save us from all plaguing disasters.“

“We´re doing fine!“ rejoiced the souls waving towards the throne.

“Well, that´s what we wanted!“ cheerfully said Crazy Bat´s soul to the masses.

Then those, who had pricks, played ball games with those who had pussies. Later, things got mixed up.

And those, who had pricks, played with those who had pricks. And those, who had pussies played with those who had pussies. And in all other sorts of ways.

And among them there was the jolly-eyed centaur walking around and dumping ointment all over the tools of their bodies. God was only agape.

 

The jolly-eyed centaur has finally obliged to take a notice of God. “A new Ogrefreak came,“ he said. “How are we going to nickname him?“ And the jolly-eyed centaur pulled Him closer by a hooked cane. “Shitty Asshole would fit him best. But let´s be clement, Shitty Tail would do!“

And Crazy Bat’s soul tied a shitty tail to God´s butt and affixed pots to it. Then Crazy Bat’s soul whipped Him up real hard.

And rattling away God was off from the egalitarian society with all breath he had.

 

And God was speeding by the garbage men´s huts. He was screaming. The pots were rattling like crazy. Garbage men were gasping “Wow!“ and Youngster said it looked like the Judgment Day.

“I have always imagined that heaven would collapse with a big bang,“ said Eldster. Garbage men buzzed in agreement.

Wow! We´re buzzing here like some kind of sad flies on a plafond. Wow!“ They gasped.

“Take it off for me!“ told them God.

So they took that shitty tail off of Him. They were wiping their hands on each other.

Wow! And we´ll stick to any kind of crap. Wow!“ they buzzed.

 

 

II.XXXIV. Chapter in which you will find out something about Bistak, a character that will, unfortunately, have his part in this chapter only

 

A technician wearing a red cap installed the lives of residents into the computer, which were made up of snitchers’ snitches every second. Then he pushed the button

Bilancna run 

The computer was quietly purring. It was compiling one destiny to another and calculating the future. The processing went smoothly; the computer followed the instruction booklet

Balance Airi 

After a while a green nose started glowing from the computer. The destiny of the world was calculated. It pulled out a card from its pocket and wrote on it by a bolt fastened hand

Balance revolutionary 

And the computer was grimacing so hard that little screws were flying from the sides of its mouth. Its smile was continuously getting bigger. More human.

The technician with the red cap had never used a sentence before, which would not be a paraphrase of some wisdom in the Bible. Lately only with the computer he could have a normal conversation.

“I´d rather send you to hell!“ he spat and entered a secret room. He handed the card to the General Secretary who had replaced the President Conman earlier that morning, and started to respectfully back up while bowing on his way out.

“Gentlemen, I know it´s silly to pull away from the pyramid of foxy babes as long as we´re not at our ends. But we are at our ends. Still only the sweet or sour. We need a revolution. And Noah will provide one for us.“ The General Secretary waved the card.

The politicians were peacefully puffing away at their cigars. They felt flattered that the General Secretary had all of a sudden addressed them as ‘gentlemen’. Much better than being called ‘comrades’. That was a good sign.

“He´s talking like an ass,“ muttered Conman. “I, His Majesty, can´t understand anything. I, His Majesty, am still the President!!!“ He took a quick leak. “Do I, His Majesty, still decide about anything? Am I, His Majesty, Still the President??? Does anyone understand this at all!?!“
The politicians busted out laughing. Obviously the situation was getting out of the General Secretary´s hands. “We´re cooking up big politics here! Is that clear?“ he said and busted up a few politicians to demonstrate his point.
It was clear to all immediately. The General Secretary continued: “Of course, we´ll remake Noah´s head. At the snap of fingers. But it´s not worth talking about.“

Conman blurted out: “Surely, that´s not possible!“

And now the General Secretary bursted into laughter. The thought of something being impossible was tickling him like a hundred of rollicking fleas: “Gentlemen, that´s why we have met here, to make it possible. Who is for my revolution!?!“

All, except the presidential Conman, raised their hands.

“Gentlemen comrades, the mankind will never forget you for that.“

“You´re the biggest hotshot in the world, my dear little generalissimo,“ said the small mirror. “But suuuuuch a big dickhead.“

“It´s so absurd that a person must immediately forget about it in order not to go crazy,“ murmured Conman to himself. And immediately he forgot about it.

“Why, there´s nothing behind that General Secretary,“ he said after a while. “There´s only such a skin stretched in the front.“ He put his hand into him, and started making him bulge out from inside. For instance, he made several female breasts protrude out of the General Secretary´s chest, he formed him a pregnant belly and right after that five schlongs. There were fleas all over. He was having fun and the politicians´ eyes were popping out.

“Gentlemen, as I mentioned before, the mankind will never forget you for that,“ kept saying the General Secretary beating his breasts with the fist. He looked like a bombarded metal plate.

The guy in the glossy overalls whacked Conman upside the head. He rolled him up like a neat presidential pipe, and stuck him in his pocket.

“Does anyone else want anything?“ asked the General Secretary. No one wanted anything else anymore. Only one politician still wanted to say something. He said:

 

“HURRAY!“

 

The technician busted up the computer. For those who had known him for a longer time, it was only natural that in the end he busted up the computer after all.

He opened up a dumpster with the sign

Balance dumpster 

and he entered.

 

The technician, named Bistak and called Bistak by his friends, returned to his books. Bistak´s books were about the good and happiness; about long-dead philosophers by which the still playful philosophers were explaining some of the grievances in the field, as for example: surplus of beef soup and below the standard purposes of life and lack of magnesium.

Bistak´s books were sometimes even about God and the proletariat. He used to eat headcheese over them so that he would have a bigger taste for reading them.

 

...


Author´s note: list of skipped chapters:

II.XXXV. Chapter in which you will find out why Tridafor Clemark did not change into a frog

II.XXXVI. Chapter in which you will find out why in heaven it does not pay off to show off
in pantaloons

 

 

II.XXXVII. Chapter in which you will find out how the Lord of the One became a controller of celestial tanks

 

The Lord of the One, who was passing by, said that he is an armorer, and besides that, he is madly in love with jazz and young lady Manon. Thus he will definitely help them out with those tanks if in reward God indeed occasionally does some kind of a miracle for the young lady Manon so she would not live so monotonously down there.

Wow, let Him do a miracle for all! Wow,“ gasped the garbage men.

“He could only puff on their pipes,“ grimaced Eldster. “And He even better not try that either.“

“As early as tomorrow I´m going to hand out rubber toys to them,“ promised God.

 

The Lord of the One got himself hundreds of telephones connected. They were connecting him with Manon. He was madly in love with her. And she was madly in love with the Lord of the One too.

“I´d like to have twins with you,“ phoned Him Manon via the hundreds of telephones. It was about an hour before noon.

The tanks had already got up. They were looking for a bite. The whole heaven echoed with a maddening roar of tanks.

“I´d like to have quintuplets with you,“ she phoned him at noon. Nothing could be heard because of the deafening roar. “What do you say to that?“ asked him Manon.

“I´d like to have fortyplets with you,“ she phoned him after he poured sugar into the tanks’ fuel tanks.

And the Lord of the One turned aghast. Is she joking? He paused to think and said: “I´m glad that we yearn for the same thing.“ And he disconnected the phones.

It happened occasionally afterwards that one of them would still ring. Then he would press himself against the wall. He would breathe deeply knowing very well that if Manon does not stop it, it could easily happen to him that he could no longer continue the dignified way of life he had led so far, and he would become an unmannered cynic who could be enraptured perhaps only by a boiling tomato sauce with peas.

...

 
Author´s note: a chapter skipped:

II.XXXVIII. Chapter in which you will find out about Rosa’s handbag

 

 

II.XXXIX. Chapter in which you will find out about everything that needs to be thrown out so the human being can feel relieved

 

“Which one is Noah?“ asked the man in glossy overalls. Noah was sitting on the bed hiding his crapped up finger under the rug under the bed. It did not help.

“Don´t be afraid,“ the man was calming him down. Out of his bag he pulled out a gigantic chrome plated machine for making revolutionaries and placed it on Noah´s head. The machine was making a terrible gnashing sound.

Brshleek clenched his fists and wanted to knock the man down. The man pulled out another machine from the bag, which knocked Brshleek down.

Brshleek got overpowered by dizziness. He felt like a battered dog. He took off his socks and started sucking on his heel.

“Get into your kennel!“ shouted the man at him.

Brshleek ran out into the hallway. He pulled his tail under himself and started sniffing. New scents were confusing him.

Snitcher No. 13 was petting him between his ears. He was snitching and mumbling about the revolution and so on. Brshleek was yelping.

And the man in glossy overalls came out a few minutes later. He was slowly descending the stairway. He was rambling horseshit and rattling with his bag. Often at night Brshleek imagined that somebody wants to do something to him. In dreams he could solve this in a flash, in a few seconds. The horseshit died away on the ground floor.

“Now I can´t get through,“ sobbed Manon. She hung herself over Brshleek. “What will happen to my fortyplets now?“

So Brshleek made them for her. Once again, for a moment he felt like an important man. And he howled.

Balance aoo 

When they entered the room, Noah was lying on the floor with his shaved head and crapped up finger. He already had that right colorblindness of a revolutionary. He could not tell black apart from white. And the white of his eye was black and pupils were white. A red scar stretched around his skull.

“Like a bloody wreath,“ whispered Brshleek.

The stamp slipped out of the snitcher No. 13´s hand. But I wanted to be a pretzel maker, he thought. “A pretzel maker that makes pretzels out of a beef soup,“ he sputtered. “But it just didn´t hold together.“ He pulled himself together and continued snitching again.

“Like a bloody wreath!“ Brshleek hurled a chair out of the window. The glass jingled. And a couple of broken pieces got stuck in Noah´s head.

And then he threw another chair out and another one. In series he was throwing out everything that could be thrown out. And everything could be thrown out. Absolutely everything.

Wardrobes and beds took most of his effort.

Balance Shivel Eye Chevvy 

 


II.XL. Chapter in which you will find out about an onion feast in heaven

 

The battalion was trying to crank up the engines in vain. All night. The walls of His house were bursting, crumbling and falling down. God couldn´t get enough of sleep. He was lying on Nymph´s devilish tits and explaining to her how hard it is to have everything under the thumb.

“Everybody is yacking into my things,“ he complained. “I really don´t know what to listen to.“ They were drinking a lot.

“Be it me, I wouldn´t let anyone yack into my cooking,“ remarked Nymph scornfully. “And namely, I like to cook tomato sauce with peas most.“ Her stomach was floating on guts full of wine.

Nymph crossed over about a nine-inch wall still left over from His living room, and she ran towards the lakelet.

The tanks had their cannons sadly hanging down. Their starters were still rattling. To no avail.

And God was nervous. Terribly nervous. A garbage collecting brat got in His way, which was giving birth to small clay dolls. Like on a conveyor belt. The dolls did not have tattoos of hair pies.

And with the back of His hand He whacked the brat one so hard that all dolls got shattered all over the heaven. “And do you happen to know why!?!“ he flared out at the whimpering brat.

“Because you´re God.“

Good, thought God. He felt flattered by that.

 

At noon, the Lord of the One sprinkled the tanks with a powder for iron. By the evening they turned into heaps of rust. And God prepared onions in a hundred-fold style to celebrate the victory. The garbage men were grabbing them by handfuls. They have never eaten so many onions in their whole lives. God recalled that during a particular part of His childhood He used to eat onions constantly.

“Although they taste great,“ admitted Youngster, “I still wouldn´t eat them. They smell awful.“

And God carefully gathered the left-over onion crescents from the tray. He packed them under His tongue and said: “All the same, I had to eat something.“

The Lord of the One remarked that in order not to touch their hearts by His uneasy childhood, He should rather show what miracles He invented for Manon.

And God opened the cover next to the father turned into stone. Everyone started looking at the Earth packed with colorful toys. To God it seemed amazing that the ball still rotates and has night and day. And He was proud of it, because even though the day alternated with the night also in heaven, it obviously worked on a different principle.

And God was excited by beautiful people, all of whom lived under the same roof of the boarding house, who were guzzling the grub, soaking in booze, fucking and constantly dreaming about a still better life where they could still guzzle more, still imbibe more, still fuck more and still dream more about an even better life.

“Amazing toys,“ said the Lord of the One. “It´s an absolute miracle.“

And God was getting puffed up like a rubber clown. The garbage men were getting puffed up in contentment too.

“None of them is raising their hands towards heaven,“ said Eldster. “No one indeed.“ Youngster spat.

“Don´t spit!“ told him roused up God.

“So I´m spitting, it´s none of your business!“ growled Youngster. Even the garbage men started spitting. They were not puffing up anymore. “Wow! Nobody. Nobody indeed. Wow,“ they were gasping. In an instant, God was covered by spittle.

And the omniscient brain started telling Him about the future of the Lord of the One. God could not stop the omniscient brain, nor did He know what these merry-go-round visions could be good to Him for. He had a hunch that they have something to do with the fact that He is God. But nobody can understand everything in detail. And God sighed, and His mind went blank again for a while.

“May Lordie Help Us,“ Greeted God The Lord Of The One. “May Lordie Grant That,“ Answered The Lord Of The One. And He Did Not Even Raise His Eyes From Work. He Was Gluing Tar Sheets. He Has Already Pasted The Whole Island With Them.

Two Balls Were Hanging Above The Island. A Blue Ball Was Added To The Black One. It Was Shining With Goofy Sparklers. At Any Moment Everybody Would Be Screwed By Them. Particularly The Lord Of The One.

“For Christ’s Sake,“ Growled God. “Nothing But Balls, But I Didn´t Want It This Way. I´d Like Better Planets In A Form Of Talking Potatoes. Soft-Boiled Ones. The Kind From Which A Talking Puree Could Then Be Mixed Up. Really, I Can´t Help That.

“That Kind Of An Excuse Fits Like A Chamber-Pot On The Ass,“ Chirped Crazy Bat´s Soul Hopping And Skipping Around On The Walking Head.

The Jolly-Eyed Centaur´s Butt Was Already Hurting From Constant Sitting Upon The Throne. He Shouted At The Lord Of The One Whether He Would Like To Change Places With Him.

“But Only For A While,“ Agreed The Lord Of The One.

“You Can Change, Whatever You´d Like,“ Said The Jolly-Eyed Centaur And With A Gusto He Pasted A Piece Of A Tar Sheet.

“Souls And Monkeys, Nymphs And Centaurs, Moles,“ Shouted The Lord Of The One From The Throne. “From Now On You Can Do Whatever You Like.“

“Hurray!“ Shouted The Monkeys In Excitement.

“And What Should It Be?“ Asked The Souls.

“Whatever You Like,“ Explained The Lord Of The One.

“Amazing,“ Rejoiced The Jolly-Eyed Centaur. He Pasted Another Piece Of The Tar Sheet. “Impressive Indeed. I Could Have Never Got A Better Idea Myself.“

The Monkeys Formed Twelve Files, Started Marching And Throwing Confetti Around. “We´re Fine!“ They Shouted.

A Little While Later The Moles Joined Them. And Others. The Twelve Files Were Waving Their Pom Poms: “We´re Fine!“

“Rub Them With The Ointment,“ Reminded The Jolly-Eyed Centaur.

“Go And Eat,“ Said The Lord Of The One.

Ogrefreaks Seated Themselves At The Set Tables.

“Who Wouldn´t Get Stuffed When It´s Possible,“ They Said And Everybody Ate. “We´re Fine!“

“My Butt´s Getting Sore Too,“ Said The Lord Of The One.

“Hang In There Just A Bit Longer,“ Asked Him The Jolly-Eyed Centaur. He Tore Off A Big Piece Of The Tar Sheet And Started Delightfully Putting Glue On It.

God Took A Stand Behind The Throne And Whispered To The Lord Of The One: “Why Are You Sad?“

“I´m Not Sad,“ Retorted The Lord Of The One.

“But You Are Sad. You Need To Have A Drink To Cheer Up,“ Said God And Jammed A Funnel In His Mouth. Then He Began To Pour Wine Into It.

“I Don´t Need A Drink,“ Gargled The Lord Of The One.

“But You Do, Because You Are Sad.“

 

And the garbage men completely surrounded Him. They were breathing at Him with onion odor and had threatening eyes. And threatening yellowish saliva.

“I can do with you whatever I like,“ reminded them God. “Such is the life. It is only my good will that you are not jumping around here like a herd of mushney rebees.“ And He ran out of His good will. He got it back only a few hours later.

He started looking at the mushney rebee garbage men hopping around with inertia and in good will He threw in a sentence that seemed to Him the most important of all sentences He had ever thrown in good will.

It sounded like this: “But it doesn´t matter I do what I want to do when I have good will.“

And He finished the celebration.

Balance Shivel Eye 

 

II.XLI. Chapter in which you will find out what sound was coming out of Noah´s head

 

The General Secretary spread his legs in the courtyard and announced that the revolution is making mile-long steps ahead. For most citizens this was pleasant news. Especially because they did not know what it was all about, and more particularly that no one was explaining it to them.

Brshleek was staring at the ticket all morning

Balance 15sept 

so he wouldn’t have to stare at Noah. Noah´s remade head no longer had any dreams, and it unbearably jumped around like a big empty ball with a nose painted in.

Brshleek put his ear to it. He heard gnashing

Balance grind 

So it is gnashing then, he thought.

“The human cannot say: this is the best. The human can only say: this is worse or this is better. It´s a stupid quality,“ said Bednarik peeking at Noah through the door. “But this is the worst.“

Dobos just grumbled something. A little less than an hour ago he lost a bet. One of those silly bets with one absurd rule devoid of even a morsel of humaneness – and the fact that somebody has to lose. Dobos now had to cook beef soup for the entire group of people living on the floor.

Slavik, called Nightingale, asked: “Is that soup ready yet?“

“Your fat ass is ready,“ retorted Dobos. But in reality it almost was ready.

“It´s not the worst thing,“ said Gozoo pensively. “They could´ve just as well remade him into rollerblades.“

“Grab him by the head, somebody,“ said Bednarik. “It´s battered like an empty nut.“

“So what?“ asked Slavik called Nightingale. “It´s not my empty head.“

Grrrrrrrind,“ laughed Petrek. He was glad that he did not have to cook. Nor laugh. It seemed to him that when empty things are good, then they are darn good.
 

...

Author´s note: List of skipped chapters:

II.XLII. Chapter in which you will find out why the horizon is blue

II.XLIII. Chapter in which you will find out how moles can contribute to development of art

 

 

II.XLIV. Chapter in which you will find out how God answered the most important question of mankind

 

“Why is life mostly good for a nice fucking shit?“ sounded a question.

“7. 5. 2. 7.“ wittily answered God. “Take me over the heaven.“

“What will happen to us?“ asked Brshleek. He was whispering. All ends of the roof were quietly crawling through the air. “And to Noah?“ again he was thinking of him.

“I don´t know,“ wittily admitted God. Right after that He assured Brshleek: “But I know everything about all of you. Absolutely everything.”

And He opened a cover next to the father turned into stone, and He gave Brshleek a few pieces of gold for the road along with a crumpled sheet of paper. “These are instructions. For everybody. How to do it.“ And He conspiratorially winked at Brshleek.

Eldster slipped off the roof and tauntingly remarked: “What kind of advice can you give at all?“

And God slammed the cover so hard that Brshleek flopped down to the Earth like a cat. “Yet, you’d be surprised at what kind of advice I can give!“

 

And Brshleek pulled himself together so-so and unwrapped the paper. On it was a fluorescent writing:

Balance future 

We´ve got a diddly jack from the advice like this, thought Brshleek. And that was true.  

 

...

Author´s note: list of skipped chapters:

II.XLV. Chapter in which you will find out how easily you can acquire a lot of property

II.XLVI. Chapter in which you will find out what temperature Brshleek had

II.XLVII. Chapter in which you will find out how they talk shit behind our backs

II.XLVIII. Chapter in which you will find out something else about the Bible and beef soup

II.XLIX. Chapter in which you will find out what ends in heaven and what begins in heaven

II.L. Chapter in which you will find out what an exhilarating feeling it is to feel like a jackass

 

 

II.LI. Chapter in which you will find out about the fundamental moral postulate of modern history

 

Bednarik has just discordantly commented on a verse from the tract ´About the Waterfalls of Heavens’

Balance tract postulate 

“I´ve just written something, and immediately you think that I want a revolution. But there´s nothing of that sort,“ concluded the extraterrestrial and happy with himself he lit a cigarette.

Bednarik did not give up; as always, when he was really bombed as a skunk. “You didn´t understand anything!“ he said and scattered the tract around the room.

“But that´s normal,“ said the extraterrestrial.

Bednarik calmed down. He surrounded himself with broads having even bigger tits.

“Now those aren´t tits anymore,“ sighed Slavik, called Nightingale, and in goodwill he stroked Petrek´s beard. “That´s a dream.“

 

And God, with His head still on the floor, was grunting like a worn out pig. Manon helped Him up and told Him: “Come!“ God felt like He was going to collapse at any moment and remain forever sprawled out like a screwed up lump full of hashish.

They entered into some kind of a room. He felt sick after all those steps. He shut His eyes. An image of Manon disrobing started forming upon His eye-lids. God felt her touches on His entire body. He has never known anything so delightful. Through His eye-lashes He was squinting at the beautiful naked woman who was rolling and kissing Him all over.

“You´ve got a black spot on your dick,“ hissed out Manon passionately.

And God knew very well about it, but He didn´t see anything erotic about it. That night God made love for the first time in His life. Before that, He had not even known that something like that was possible. He couldn´t even imagine something so marvelous and yet so boring at the same time. After a few minutes He realized that He could do it to Himself a hundred times better.

And God woke up first. He gently cuddled her long slender hair with His nose. When she opened her eyes, He uncovered her and started caressing her elastic body. He was trembling with excitement. God fell in love and He was happy.

Manon threw clothes in His lap and gently pushed Him out of the room. God heard a rattle of the closing lock. He knocked and knocked again, and beat on the door and kicked it. The world suddenly looked to Him gray and full of colorless spots. He could not protect Himself against it. The boarding house splashed Him with its own color, and there was no one to wipe it off. He felt sorry for Himself.

And all morning He spent looking for the room where He puffed on hashish yesterday. He needed it to make the world look prettier to Him. But to know the way through that jungle of doors was above His abilities. Even though He was God.

...

Author´s note: list of skipped chapters:

II.LI. Chapter in which you will find out about the fundamental moral postulate of modern history (only the beginning of this chapter has been published)

II.LII. Chapter in which you will find out about the hellish day that has started

II.LIII. Chapter in which you will find out what the life-time hobby of revolutionaries is

II.LIV. Chapter in which you will find out about the important thing that has just come to my mind

 

 

II.LV. Chapter in which you will find out about the poetic spirit of Sergeant Rosa

 

Sgt. Rosa along with other soldiers found accommodation in some basement. They were waiting for new orders and they were drinking, eating, laughing, and from time to time someone would come in from outside with good news saying that they should not change anything they had been doing so far. So they kept on drinking, eating and laughing. But things outside started moving on, and they were quickly leading to an end. Under the American conducting baton, nations got into each other.

Sgt. Rosa stroked his little belly overflowing with happiness. He tipped over a plate of beef soup leftovers and put it into a machine for writing poems.

He wrote a poem featuring principles of a dying humanism and universality of a frigid universe

Balance two points 

Sgt. Rosa was very content with his poem, because nobody could write such a good poem, not even Bednarik, nor Dobos, nor Gozoo, nor Slavik called Nightingale, nor Apollinaire, nor Bukowski. He did not include Petrek. The latter has been writing in an animal language. Sgt. Rosa has been missing them all a lot.

“Certainly all have already forgotten about us,“ rejoiced the commander. He was not even trying to pretend being interested in killing in the name of universal principles of humanism. If it is painless, than go ahead and do it, thought the commander, or better yet, not even then.

The commander loaded his pistol and aimed it at his ages-long foremost enemy through the corner of his left eye. “Kill the Death,“ he said.

 

Sgt. Rosa became possessed to write poems on the reverse side of plates, or at least it seemed so. He quit working on the novel. If he had been writing it, he would have been occupying himself with the point of fulfillment on the verge of the planet Earth’s marvelous career.

He always washed the dishes after dinner.

 

 

II.LVI. Chapter in which you will find out something about the point of fulfillment on the verge of the planet Earth’s marvelous career

 

And Brshleek was not in a good mood. Moreover, he was frantically in love with Nymph. He was sculpturing a gigantic statue of Noah in the courtyard in front of the boarding house. In memory.

Now I do not owe you anything, he was thinking as he hit the hammer for the last time. He had been working on that statue like two bulls. He had a feeling of an absolute fulfillment as if there were nothing else necessary to be added to his life. And so he did not add anything else. That was enough.

The extraterrestrial stuck a bottle under Brshleek’s nose. Again he was scribbling something in his philosophical tract.

Balance tract fulfillment edge 

“Amazing,“ Brshleek praised him. “The more you write, the better it gets.“ And he took a big slug from the bottle. Then he crawled through a narrow window to the roof of the boarding house. He found himself on a giant asphalt plane whose end could not be seen. He laid down on the overheated asphalt. He did not move.

He was dreaming with hundreds of female somnambulants. When he came to, one of them was jumping over him like over a stretched rubber. Back and forth. She was popping her little flat eyes as if someone had slapped two little fish on them. It was so unusual that he had to rub his eye-lids. He felt the fish scales.

The somnambulant leaned against the antenna system. Suddenly, her fish had a sweet, surprisingly sweet look. Brshleek was caressing her body and whispered: “I have a little thick scrumptious hook for you.“

And the somnambulant´s fish became conscious.

“Really?“ she asked. “You don´t look like it.“

He put his arms around her waist. Thrilled, the somnambulant trembled in a dream. She spat at him. Brshleek was puzzled. She reached for his hair and pulled him down to her abdomen.

“Nowadays everyone spits,“ she was pacifying him. “There´s no time for anything else.“ He tore her undershirt apart. He reached for her little breasts, small and thin, dangling like two yummy noodles, like two tempting warms on a lure. The somnambulant pushed him away.

“Don´t you want to?“

“I want to, but it doesn´t mean anything to me,“ she said and her fish turned dark. She extended one of her arms forward while pulling him by the other one all the way to the edge of the roof. She made the first step into the emptiness, and Brshleek shivering out of fear was scurrying behind her.

“If somebody told me that something like this is possible, I would tell him that he had just made it up,“ he whispered.

“But I did just make it up,“ she said.

And they were struggling through the clouds until grappling around they came across a wet marble. They made love on the top of Noah´s shaven head.

“Are you enjoying it?“

“What can I tell you?“ sighed Brshleek while remembering all the tricks from his youth in order to rouse her up.

“The truth,“ she said and shook him off of herself. They sat down. Once again Brshleek was in love with Nymph, and at the same time he was wiping off little drops of dew from the somnambulant’s yummy noodles.

She stroked his cheek. The clouds tore apart and Brshleek beheld the Moon. It was softly reflected on the somnambulant’s abdomen

Bilancna dno brucha 

“Don´t you want to go to sleep?“ asked Brshleek. The somnambulant passionately sucked up to his lips. “I want to, but I get very bored when I sleep.“

She was purring like a cat. On the hook.

 

...

Author´s note: list of skipped chapters:

II.LVII. Chapter in which you will find out about the danger of smoking

II.LVIII. Chapter in which you will find out what is the most important quality for a revolutionary

 

 


 

The human is a terrible animal,

because when it doesn´t want to, it will not die.

                                                               Petrek

 

 

Now

or

why I have written this book

 

 

I´m just sitting

and guzzling up the pears.

Fatso

 


 

...

Author´s note: a list of skipped chapters:

III.I. Chapter in which you will find out what the president can become when presidency is not enough for him

III.II. Chapter in which you will find out how Brshleek ended up

III.III. Chapter in which you will find out why this book has been created

 

 

III.IV. Chapter in which you will find out about the start of that fucking American
prime meat grinder

 

That evening, the roof of the boarding house was glittering with the last beams of the setting sun. At the occasion of starting up the grinder, the American nation covered the rooftop with colored pieces of glass. To make it look better.

On the roof, the somnambulant were romping around. They were playing catch. The rules were simple. The one chasing was running on pink pieces of glass, and the one being chased was running on the blue ones.

The somnambulant, with her tight eyes, pulled Brshleek around the corner of the antenna system. Brshleek covered her with kisses. The somnambulant fished out a pot of beef soup from somewhere:

“Only when we finish eating it all.“

Brshleek sunk his spoon in a zing. The soup was splashing out over his lower lip like a miniature surf over a miniature pier. The soup was not diminishing.

“Well, whether we like it or not, we´ll have to eat it like this until we die,“ grumbled Brshleek.

And then a huge mushroom full of colored pieces of glass rose next to them. It was a spectacular show. Like a chopped up rainbow rotating in a centrifuge. The prime meat grinder started running.

Brshleek was thrown aside about twenty meters. Into the cavity among the antennas. It took his breath away. His brain was squeezed into a small ball.

He came to as he was crawling and wiping his parched lips with his dehydrated tongue. His lacerated fingers were sliding on an amazingly caked and amazingly bright-colored carpet. Like an amazing divine beauty broadcasted live. Everything melted.

“Shivel-Eye-Chevvy Mushney Rebee,” he rasped. Why these exact words? They just came to his mind.

On his knees he was crawling around the not very tall monoliths. These were the somnambulists embedded in a colorful melt. Some of them had only half of their bodies embedded, front or back. They were ungluing themselves and steaming. They were in a state of confusion.

And Brshleek occasionally bumped into someone or someone bumped into him. He got hold of a twin monolith and stood up. The monolith´s left side was pink. A hand was sticking out from it patting the blue part.

 

“Got you! Got you! Got you!“

 

At last he noticed her. He recognized her by two weeping fish glued to a brick protrusion. The rest was shredded by the prime meat grinder. And Brshleek started crying too. And there was an elderly woman with a cute little basket walking around. And she stopped by him. And she was caressing his silky hair, pulling magnesium out of her basket and stuffing it into his mouth while telling him to stop crying and to open his mouth more.

 

...

Author´s note: a chapter skipped:

III.V. Chapter in which you will find out how Noah with the fortyplets came to the water tap

 

 

III.VI. Chapter in which you will find out how the humankind got hungry

 

The prime meat grinder recast boardinghouse´s surroundings into steel-like hard glassy lumps, and then it disappeared. Only a not very tall catafalque remained from the sky reaching statue. A forest of blue pear-trees was miraculously fast expanding from afar.

There was nothing to bite into. The boardinghouse was buzzing. Everyone had a growling stomach. Even Brshleek did.

The whole boardinghouse got on the run. Even the snitcher No. 13 took off to wherever his eyes found the way, but he was still snitching.

Brshleek slipped on the stairway. As he was struggling with his hands he tore two giant holes in the air and fell like scrunched up tripes. He broke both of his legs.

And then it seemed to him as if some monkey, not bigger than a coco nut, started rubbing him with the ointment that heals all problems. And there was someone sliding down the rail murmuring that in order to fix all that havoc there will be about three bucketfuls of that ointment needed, and so much of the ointment could not be found in the whole wide world.

The blue pear forest was spreading only a few meters from the walls. Refugees have settled down on its outskirts. They fed themselves on the blue pears in the hope that the prime meat grinder does not come back.

 

 

III.VII. Chapter in which you will find out who is the gang of assassins here

 

A group of people living upstairs has also been feeding on the blue pears while discussing Rosa´s death.

And better yet, we still have those fucking armies,“ said Dobos.

“Shit!“ blurted out Bednarik and spat out the pear’s core back into the blue forest. A giant cluster of blue pear-trees shot out of the seeds. There was nothing to indicate that Bednarik would have anything else to add. Everyone was unhappy with his statement.

“So, c´mon and add something,“ said Gozoo.

“The world has killed him,“ added Bednarik.

“If also we’re the world, then we´re a gang of assassins too,“ pondered Slavik called Nightingale.

“If we are, so be it,“ conceded Bednarik. “But definitely we’re not!“

“These are the so-called evolutionary holes,“ joined in Dobos.

“I didn´t kill him,“ defended himself Gozoo.

Dobos noticed that he has not captured anyone´s attention. He got pissed off. “Fucking words.“ And on top of it, he spat. It was manly.

“The point is that we feel kind of hurt and kind of helpless,“ said Gozoo.

“What are you still talking about?“ asked Petrek. It absolutely made no difference to him what they were still talking about.

Cham! Cham! Cham!

“What are we then?“ asked Slavik called Nightingale. It absolutely made no difference to him what they were either. He knew that no one would tell him face to face that they were just a regular gang of assassins, now that he himself has just told it to everyone face to face.

“You´re all so difficult!” said Bednarik angrily. “Nothing can be discussed with you. We all have the same opinions.“

“So let´s talk about our equal opinions,“ suggested Gozoo.

“Death killed Rosa,“ alleged Petrek. One of the blue pears pulled him out of lethargy for a moment. The pear looked to him different from others. He rived it away and immediately smacked it against the wall. It was the same as other pears. “Munch! And we all are only such a careless gang of ruthless assassins! Munch!”

And all were looking around dumbfoundedly. Nobody has expected that.

 

 

III.VIII. Chapter in which you will find out whether one can live, provided it is known what will be then

 

The Fools Were Playing With The Statue Of The Father. They Played Statues. They Got In A Line And Turned Into Stone. Then, Immobile As They Were, They Started Making Steps.

The Statue Of The Father Did Not Make It. The Fools Were Hollering And Pushing The Rigid Figure. In The End It Made A Step After All. It Fell And Broke Into Pieces. Some Fools Started Weeping. The Others Began Playing A New Game. They Were Throwing The Colored Fragments Of The Stone At Each Other. Anyone Who Got A New Lump Yelled Out:

“Shivel-Eye-Chevvy, Mushney Rebee!“

And God Ran Away From The Heaven.

 

And He Was Wandering Through The Deserted Corridors. He Wanted To Visit Brshleek, But He Has Forgotten Which Underground Entrance Leads To The Mansion.

He Was Walking Down Shabby Stairways And Corridors. He Kept On Kicking Away Empty Cans From Beef Soup. Meanwhile, The Omniscient Brain Was Getting Rid Of His Memory. Suddenly He Was Clearly Weighed Down By The Never Ending Memory Like When He Needed A Spoon And Full Plate For Subsistence Before.

Somewhere On The Ground Floor He Found A Small Tucked Away Sooty Tavern. He Walked Up To The Stove To Warm Up His Hands. With His Frozen Fingers He Laid His Tunic Asunder. He Strapped His Greasy Beard Into A Braid. Standing There He Wore A Silly Smile.

And Now God Did Not Understand Anything At All. He Was Listening. He Was Repeating Each Sentence To Himself. His Lips Were Quietly Parting And Sealing.

Some Women Was Sizing Him Up With A Smelly Drunken Look.

“Can You See Me?“ She Asked Him.

And God Pulled Out A Paper. He Wrote.

Balance can you see 

The Women Crumpled Up The Paper. She Threw The Scrunched-Up Ball Into The Stove And Said: “Maybe I Can´t Read.“

“Maybe I Can´t Pee!“ The Tavern Broke Into Laughter. It Was Hard Of Hearing.

The Woman´s Drunken Knees Gave Way. They Jammed Into His Tunic. The Floor Sighed.

And God Was Happy That He Had Someone To Talk To.

Balance maybe 

“Idiot,“ She Hissed And Sat Down By The Drunken Men. God Scurried After Her. He Was Holding Onto Her Like Titties. The Men Frowned. With A Broken Black Fingernail God Carved Into The Table

Bilancna idiot 

A Bearded Man Jumped Up Like A Ball From Deep Waters. He Hurled God Against The Wall. “Get Lost!“

And God Wrote On His Forehead

Balance get lost 

“How Dare You, You Asshole!“ The Beardy Whacked His Hand. Ink Sputtered From The Quill Onto The Red-Hot Stove. Little Black Globules Danced Around And Disappeared.

And God Got Rid Of His Memory. His Insides Became Motionless. Once Again He Felt Like A Giant Penis Leaning Against The Wall.

And The Beardy Hit Him. A Tip Of God´s Nose, Who Has Just Turned Into Stone, Broke Off.

“Fuck!“ Said Slavik, Called Nightingale, And Wiped His Blood Covered Hand Into Manon´s Blouse.

And God asked the omniscient brain whether all future could be forgotten. The life as such is already quite unbearable.

And the omniscient brain answered that it would not be a problem whatsoever. Right afterwards God could breathe easier. He took a handful of beer into His mouth and gargled with it, burping and sputtering it around wherever it crossed His mind.

 

 

III.IX. Chapter in which you will find out where the human being really stands

 

And it was about two – three hours before midnight after a hellish day, and it has been whispered among pear-trees that the Sun would not rise the next day. They were saying that the meat grinder had pulverized it. All hoped that it was only a joke.

Famished Brshleek was crawling out of the boardinghouse. On the first floor a funeral procession cut in his way. It was heavily dawdling up a hill created on a fly. A while after Brshleek found out Rosa’s name from the whispering crowd, he started feeling sorry for himself and a little for Rosa, but namely for himself. It was somewhat sad.

The coffin was carried by soldiers. They were careful to do everything jointly. It is such a custom.

Brshleek mingled with a group of people living upstairs. Petrek has just been pulling Bednarik away for absolute amusement. Bednarik was banging heads of everyone around with a wreath. He was laughing. Petrek was roaring with joy that they had attracted attention. He was shouting:

“The human doesn´t die! The human turns into a carcass! Muuhhhrrr!“

And Brshleek kept looking into Gozoo’s, Dobos´ and Slavik´s, called Nightingale, eyes more and more to the point where it seemed to him that their eyes were fixed at each other.

“You could´ve died too!“ yelled out Brshleek and pointed at Gozoo.

“You could´ve died too!“ yelled out Brshleek and pointed at Dobos.

“You could´ve died too!“ yelled out Brshleek and pointed at Slavik called Nightingale.

“And you think you couldn´t have!” flared out Slavik, called Nightingale, at Brshleek and stuffed a blue pear into his mouth. “Fuckhead!“

Lumps of clay were banging against the coffin. It sounded like ... actually it sounded as if they were burying the pit with the coffin. People were adding flowers to a big stack of flowers. They were stumbling and rushing away from the flower decorated and buried death in order to get a good spot by the pear-trees.

And Brshleek limped away down the hill. Before leaving the boardinghouse, he met the two a short distance from the monument of Tridafor Clemark. He wanted to fix his eyes at them, but he did not succeed.

“You could´ve died too!“ yelled out Brshleek and pointed at Bednarik.

“You could´ve died too!“ yelled out Brshleek and pointed at Petrek.

Petrek puffed up with pride and roared: “Death doesn´t die! And what about God? Bang!“

Bednarik was laughing and hit Brshleek over the head with the wreath. Bam!

 

III.X. Chapter in which you will find out how easily people can be trained

 

And Brshleek was so hungry he could not see straight. On the multicolored hard ground he noticed a shred of a squared paper

Balance tract cattle 

He ate it. It tasted like a squared paper that had been scribbled on.

 

And under the blue pear-trees there were billions of people laying around. Already for many long hours the pears have been their only source of food. Pear-trees covered by pears promised a long feast. There were so many of them. And there was enough of them for everybody. Forever and ever.

Brshleek took a bite. His tongue turned numb from the acrid taste of unripe pears. They were the same as the ones through which he was struggling to God.

People were smacking their lips. They have already been trained like monkeys.

“You´ll get used to that,“ said Manon. “All pears taste the same.“

Brshleek plunged his face contorted with disgust into a sea of blue grub. He was pushing the pear one after another down his throat. He was not even chewing them.

Manon threw herself around his neck. She was lonely. Full, but lonely. Brshleek, too, was lonely.

Just a short distance from them Bednarik together with Petrek sat down. They found a bottle of wine somewhere. It was an enormous treasure.

“Especially when you think of Rosa, you´ll feel like a mammoth shit,“ Bednarik was consoling Petrek while filling himself with wine.

Petrek finally managed to yank the bottle from his hands. He felt dejected. There was not even one third left for him.

“And especially think of Rosa,“ added Bednarik. By sight he was saying good-bye to the disappearing wine. Also others from the group of people living upstairs were doing the same. They have just arrived.

A black dog came running and peed on the thrown away bottle. A little baby crawled on its four up to the dog. The baby was pushing its tongue into the dog´s mouth.

“What a show,“ hissed out Gozoo. He winced and pointed at the crowd. “I´ve seen Rosa.“

“Rosa died,“ growled Slavik called Nightingale. “He had a funeral a little while ago.“

Gozoo knowingly nodded. “But I saw him. He had a big belly, and he was wearing John Lennon Sunglasses.“

“Rosa died!“ Slavik, called Nightingale, got angry and threw Gozoo on a blue pear-tree. “Power turned vicious, and pretty soon it will kill us too.“

“Well, that´s for sure,“ grimaced Gozoo. “Indeed I´m surprised that I´ve seen him.“

“Finally he got free from the body of death. Chomp! Chomp!“ said Petrek dreamily.

Gozoo started swinging on a branch and pointed at the baby kissing the dog. “What a show. Where is Rosa goofing around so much? He´d be laughing like a horse.“

The dog ran away from the baby, cuddled up to Bednarik and whispered something to him.

And Bednarik jumped up and kicking the dog in the butt he was screaming:

“Rosa, what are you doin´ here?!?“

The black dog was whining. Gozoo was guffawing like crazy. Petrek took a deep breath and nearly said something.

“Rosa, what are you doin´ here?!?“

After a while five billion people under the blue pear-trees were shouting one over another.

 

“Rosa, what are you doin´ here?!?“

 

Like trained monkeys. The humankind liked the new game.

The dog let its ears hang down, and once again it brushed against Bednarik´s trousers saying:

Balance aoo long 

And they were making love under the trees of unripe pears. The rain was coming down from heavens. A special kind of warm drops were drumming on the humankind. There was a smell of beer everywhere.

It was the sort of rain that Brshleek has always longed for. It was the rain that started or ended above his head.

And he jumped off of Manon, and started jumping from the side of the world where it was raining to the other one.

“Dry, wet, dry, wet ... “ she was laughing.

It ceased raining. Drops were evaporating with hiss from Brshleek’s sizzling hot body. He laid her again. “Faster, my little pot-belly,“ whispered Manon.

Brshleek was inhaling the smell of joint sweat and semen, and he happily kept on plugging.

 

 

III.XI. Chapter in which you will find out how the group of people living upstairs used to decide about what to do next

 

Nobody knew what to do, because no one has ever said it to anyone.

“He is no more,“ said Dobos.

“He still is,“ pointed out Slavik called Nightingale. “But he´s dead.“

Bednarik, too, wanted to say something. He said what the black dog had been telling him a while ago:

„A o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o !

 

 

III.XII. Chapter in which you will find out what else that fucked up American nation prepared at the end of the hellish day

 

Manon quickly squeezed Brshleek´s shoulder. The meat grinder was coming back. Brshleek was trembling as if he were sitting in a dancing latrine. Bursting colored blotches started appearing all over his body. A stinky fluid was oozing out of them.

“Until now nothing has been coming out of it,“ said the politicians. “Now we´ll definitely succeed.“ There echoed a wide spread applause full of excitement.

And the meat grinder thundered. The people in front of the boarding house dissolved into atoms. Only blue pears were left.

The blue pears were resistant to nuclear explosions. The blue pears bluened even more after a nuclear explosion. They were getting ripe.

 

 

III.XIII. Chapter in which you will find out what the Lord of the One got into himself

 

A strong draft almost drowned the celestial island. The entire heaven was swaying like a piece of a wooden plank in a wash-machine drum. All were gaping at this new, ever more blue ball.

“I don´t have enough tar sheets to cover it,“ said the Lord of the One. He was distressed.

“Shall we cheer?“ asked the jolly-eyed centaur.

“I´ll play something to it,“ suggested the musician unwillingly. He composed a nice march. He was making humongous squeaking.

“We´re doing fine!“ shouted the Ogrefreaks.

And the Lord of the One said: “Even God would croak from that radiance.“

Then he was plucking the blue pears. He was throwing them into the air and catching them into his mouth. After an hour he would miss only every third pear. The Lord of the One was smacking his lips.

“They´re sweet like honey.“

 

 

III.XIV. Chapter in which you will find out how everything ended up

 

When the meat grinder blew up, snitcher No. 13 fished out a small trench shovel from somewhere. He was building a small one-room anti-nuclear shelter. He could dig into the ground only once.

Bednarik laid down on his belly with his heels facing the epicenter. He covered his ears with hands. He was twenty meters closer to the grinder than Slavik called Nightingale. He was cursing the ungrateful fate because he was twenty meters closer to death.

In this case, however, a meter here and there did not matter.

 

Dobos was skillfully avoiding elements zooming by. The ones that whisked by him, he would hit with the palms of his hands like with a shovel. They could not recover from being stunned anymore.

Inspired by his example, Brshleek tore off a burnt branch from the pear-tree. He played baseball. He was striking the elements into distance way beyond the playground.

And Dobos got tired. He was trembling like a drunk pussycat. He was catching the elements as if by his teeth and tearing them as if into shreds. Then one of them snatched him by its horns.

In admiration Brshleek raised Dobos´ head. “We´ve done a heroic deed.“

“Who can evaluate it? Will you evaluate it?“ asked Dobos. “I haven´t got any more time.“

Dobos’ body got contorted. One foot over the grave and the other on a banana peel.

“The human doesn´t die. The human turns into a carcass!“ shouted Petrek. He was running away.

Nobody was saved. The end.

Under the sweet dark blue pears the humankind dissolved into atoms. Forever and ever.

That is what we’ve got coming.

Bilancna hruska pear 

 


 

 

Big PFFH!

 

 

Life is the goal. The farther away the goal is,

the more sense it makes.

Like every non-sense.

Like the carp Dodo.

 

By the carp Dodo

 

 


 

 

A few days later a new humankind appeared on another Earth-like planet. The humankind was produced by invasion of spermatozoa into eggs.

This is a spermatozoon

Bilancna spermia spermatozoon 

When the spermatozoon enters the egg,

Bilancna jan jin 

life begins. Usually, before the invasion takes place, it is necessary to say something.

Most often it is said:

 

PFFH!

 

 


 

 

And

Then

after

when

 

 

Christianity, not only for its own amusement,

espouses a theory that the dead are alive.

Like the carp Dodo.

 

By Tibor Fedor Clemar

 (a totally dissimilar double of Tridafor Clemark)

 

 


 

...

Author´s note: a chapter skipped:

V.I. Chapter in which you will find nothing else new

 

  

And they lived happily ever after forever.
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Last Updated (Sunday, 01 August 2010 11:21)