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Home Milky Sap and Air Surfer (a selection from the stories) In the Beginning

In the Beginning

by Ivan Rosa and Rastislav Dobos


Change, perpetual motion,

It is only transformation that works here.
                                                       Book of Changes

Tri nasosky

To sum it all up, he has thought all his life that he would not make it. He suddenly realized that he was in some stinky poo house, somewhere, God knows where. Fine. Instead of the Big Bang there was this forgotten chicken coop where he had just got. The academic was choking with anger inside. Life wasted away. And so on. For the first time in his life he really wanted to break something. He flung the machine away. It smashed against the wall like a big bowling glass ball. He was tearing the straps. In a while everything was shred to bits. He roared.

An old gray-haired man was standing by the window and mumbling something to himself. He was looking out of the window and pulling his beard long down to his knees below his knees. But there was nothing to see. It was night.

“Hey, grandpa!“ called out the academic and grabbed a heavy oak chair and beat it into pieces against the table. He was panting, and if that old man had not been so dried up and frail, he would have whacked him a couple of times. The tension was easing off. Slowly he was getting over it.

Phew,“ he sighed. “It’s over,” he thought.

“I´m a well respected man. I still wear a suit,“ he said to the old man. “It´s actually an old tattered vest, but here it can be considered as a suit.“

And he got an idea to have a coffee. He put some more wood into the stove and took a cupful of water from the bucket, which would take forever to heat up. “But it does not matter anymore. Now I have time. An ocean of time,” he pondered.

“Well, grandpa!“ he turned to the old man again. “Who the hell are you looking at out there?“

The man up in his age nervously fidgeted. “I ghreally don´t ghnow if I´m ghlooking at ghsomebody or if I´m ghjust ghlooking,“ he ghmumbled afterwards. But he did not pull away from the window.

“So be it,“ thought the academic. A life full of intrigues only to stay in control of everything, and so that no one would even think of a name other than his after that devil´s machine would be ready. To everyone he was a careerist. But he always wore a suit. But he was concerned about something else - about an endless, omnipresent and ineffable universe. To get to the beginning of all events. Before space and time had existed. To be the first and only one who would finally experience the essence of the universe, the essence of what cannot be expressed by words or conceived by thoughts. The Big Birth.

And above all, he was happy when everyone admired him. That he liked very much.

“So you´ve done it, you son of a gun,“ whispered one of many rivals into his ear. “And that suit sits on you really well.“

“I´ve got myself a brand new one,“ said the academic full of great joy after closing the door behind himself on the machine and sat into an armchair. “Right from the dry cleaner´s.“ He fastened his seat belts in the machine designed to bring everything to a final light. The light of the Big Bang. It was not a circus machine that would move back and forth within a couple of centuries which would be good for dummies wanting to play around with history. Not that.

The machine onerously hissed. PSSST PSSST. He closed his eyes.

“Fare well, boss,“ said someone during the machine´s count-down.

Something smacked. Like a metal cat on a sheet metal pan.

“Hop here, hop there,“ cackled the machine. “It looks to me like we´ve got to the place.“ And it pulled out a bowl of lead gnocchis from its shoulder bag. “There aren´t many of them,“ it noticed immediately. “Therefore there are few of them.“

“So, are we or aren´t we there?!“ screamed the academic.

“How should I know? I´m nuts from this,“ the juicy lead was melting over its wide face. “But the suit sits on you well.“

Otherwise, the machine was a great optimist. Now, however, it finished eating. And face to face with endless time it felt down too. It would much rather tie a rope around its neck. Or better yet two ropes. It pushed the empty plate away and pulled out three ropes.


“I ron´t wan to roo anythin,“ complained the grandpa. Maybe he wanted to stop ghmumbling. “In ris horribre state of being are hirren unexpecred possibiliries. Why onry rmumble? Ler´s say rhe F. Buf I fon´t fant to foo anyfing.“

The academic full of displeasure with everything in this world said: “To hell with it all, grandpa. Let´s have a shot.“ And grandpa pulled out a small flask from a drawer.

They drank. The academic got boozed up and started rambling: “There exists only one essence of things, and it isn´t God.“ He wanted to explain to grandpa the reason why he had come there. Meanwhile, the water for coffee boiled out. “It isn´t God.“

“Buf thaf´s for sure,“ fmumbled grandpa and pulled out another small flask.

“And nobody will ever find out what it is anymore,“ commented the academic and turned around to take a piss on the rest of the machine.

And it seemed that grandpa got sick from drinking. He twanged: “Fhy boffer wif God, Fhee was good to efryone only for laufter.“ He turned around toward the machine and stuck his fingers in the throat. “Buff Fhee alfayz fhill be for laufter.“

“What happened grandpa? Are you sick?“

“Yes, I´m verry srick thar I can´t roo you any good. I awrwayz try to roo good verry haarr. Burr in rhee end I awrwayz turn our onry as a 160-pounr horeshit.“

“But grandpa, don´t take it like that,“ said the academic getting into a happy mood. “Regardless, I still think that you think that I think that you think that the most important thing in the world is the flow of little bottles like these. But that´s the big mistake.“

“At flast you´f cleared if uf,“ said grandpa and reached into the compartment of a shaky chair to pick up another small flask stuck in the yarn. He winked at the academic.

“What are we gonna do when we finish drinking it?“

“Wre wrill rsee whren wre frinish it.”

They finished drinking and grandpa opened a giant old fashioned chest. It was filled with small flasks up to the hilt. “Holy cow!” whistled the academic and replenished the water for coffee. “Now I really have to say that the most important thing in the world is how things follow one after another.“

“Buff offerwise my fson you´re pfrobably rightf. The fsuit fsits on you freally fwell. And fthere is fsomefing to fdrink forefer and efer. The fhell fith the funiverse, fafter all it´s all fjust fwomen´s fjive full of fbull.“

“Of course it´s all fjust fwomen´s fjive full of fbull,“ laughed the academic and started putting together a vixen from the pieces of the broken machine. It was not going well. Both belly laughed a lot. The little bottles were emptied like magic and booze started missing. And the vixen was missing something too. Or she had too much of something. “Grandpa, why are you making her two snatches?“

“Just let them be like that,“ rattled the machine. It was full of optimism again. “And make at least twenty tits. Let it look dandy.”

“Fwe fain´t fgonna fget fanywhere doing it flike thif,“ choked the old man. “Ir must rbe rdone compretly rifferently.” He staggered to the window that was still dark and he pointed an open palm of his hand at it. Now he wanted to shmumble:

“And shlet there be shlight!“



Last Updated (Tuesday, 27 October 2009 16:48)