Paul

 

When I was a student and had been a happy and joyful young man, I had the friend Paul Brovkov.

He was an awfully funny guy. You may consider by yourself: he was a short young fellow about 163 sm in height. His green narrow eyes were of swamp color; his nose was always reddish due to his lovely liking for drinking. And if manners and way of speaking in local specific dialect together with his incredible passion for Asian girls mostly are added to his characteristic features, then his appearance will be shown in all his beauty!

But there were also some positive features in Paul’s resume. Paul was a clever guy from his birth, keen-witted, talkative, cheerful and happy-go-lucky man. And besides, he was very good in English which was strange as it had been compared with all mentioned before.  Those people who did not know Paul could not take him as an English man at all, since they thought and were absolutely right, he was a real Russian rake.

They thought it was thank God Paul had some good character features,  but ,most probably, God had drank some wine himself and made those unpleasant mistakes I have said above.

Frankly saying, as I now remember, Paul was often in difficulty in getting public recognition.

Mostly, girls did not like him and for reasons only they knew.

As for Paul, he adored girls very much and often tried to talk with them on all every topics even considering the most serious and painful sex interconnection.

But as during his fixed monologues girls heard something clinking in his student bag ( Paul held there the glass and small bottle of wine every time) they refused of hearing his scholastic conclusions of early free love between younger generation and asked him to get out from the student hostel.

Paul was not upset somehow and removed to another student housel where girls had not yet heard his speeches of a great sexologist.

 

We both liked in that happy days of our student life to sit for all time at our friends get-together parties where we were laughing, speaking loudly, listening to the music we liked for the best, making noise and behaived ourselves strictly as all young people used to.  And as natural, we drank as much white and red wines we could afford to, proposing silly toasts for never ending youth!

Paul had been splendid himself as the heart and soul of every jolly crowd!

He stood upright for his “napoleon’ height keeping tight the glass of wine in his hand advancing his hit of motto-: “May this glass of wine be not the last one!” And it was impossible not to admire at him at that moment!

All of us jumped up as on command, shouting at the top of our voices that we were absolutely agreed with him and support his historical slogan!  

 

Paul was a very nice and “interesting” guy; I liked him from the very first glance when we met each other right after all of us had gathered in the university classroom for attending our first lecture at the university. I said I liked Paul and we became close friends from scratch.

Here I must do some lyrical remarks anyway it might be not earnest for Paul.

I was a real truant and idler myself, and we both were full-fledged slackers – the original duet of idlers belonging to it’s the most unattractive rank- the intellectual idlers!

We could due to our “inner latent talents” to truant dull and tedious lectures and routine seminars habitually and voluntary but afterwards for one night prepare the missed subject and answer it rather satisfactorily getting a good mark.

We could do it, but our respectable lecturers had been positively disagreed with our passing examination without attending casual lectures and seminars.

Thеrеfore, our innovatory method of studies was not admitted by the sub-department of our faculty.

Certainly, we were not lucky ones in our fight for our method and often failed fully.

 I recollect now, when writing these lines, the time of our studies at the university and to my great adult surprise recognize that it was distressful for me to get up early in the morning to go to lectures.

I remember how I had been annoyed and grinding my teeth because of unwillingness to be given lectures so early in the morning. I considered naively I had already become a clever one since we had already passed the Rubicon after two years of studies at the university.

I must confess it was really hard for me to attend dull lectures in the morning, but nevertheless I had to go to.

I was taking bus not fully getting up and thought with relief that as soon as I got the main entrance of the university I would meet without doubt my classmate Paul who was awaiting me there  as usual.

My feeling depended fully upon the time of the season and I would feel miserable if I would miss a good chance to truant lecture and visit our beloved and, very much popular among the students, coffer bar where me and Paul were frequent customers.

 

We never waste out time to stand any longer at the main entrance of the university and went directly to famous coffer-bar readily.

Usually me, or Paul said lazily and somehow indifferently suggesting to ignore unnecessary, bothered dull seminars and to go and have a good time in the coffer-bar.

There was never objection and, we ran quickly with loud and happy laughter to the pace of our usual entertainment.

 

We were met in the doorways of the coffer-bar by Alyk- barman-immigrant who knew many oriental jokes and proverbs and vulgar funny stories.

The barman Alyk could prank for the whole day of working, slinging the bat language as he had been a

Foreigner arrived in as an immigrant.

Curiously it  was, that Alyk began speaking our language with curse words at first. We realized somebody taught him slang and bad language for the sake of humor but Alyk remembered them for best and used them in situations when they were right and, very often, in cases they were fully senseless. But Alyk eventually had learned that curse words were not to be heard by girls and to our surprise, avoided them.

The barman met us in his coffer-bar by adorable aroma of roasted black coffee he used to cook by the way only he knew well and simultaneously with the sounds of lovely music of love sang by one of the popular singer in our country in oriental melodic voice-“ Sargoshi, am I am am dam I am drank of the love, of the love, of the love- Tara dam dam da dam…

Alyk quickly jumped out of his room of utility carrying the tray with washed clean cups, and there were big tears in his black eyes rolling down his cheeks. The barman was very much sensitive to such songs about unhappy love…

Me and Paul embraced in the manner the Greeks dancing their famous Sirtaki and began circling around the bar counter, singing backup the popular singer-“ We are drank of the love. La la la,of the love, of the love…

Soon we were full of delight of drinking of well done black coffee and the barman was ready to give us our usual morning portion of pleasure -  a cup of hot coffee with small wine glass of Armenian cognac

and a small bar of chocolate- “We re drank of the love/ of the love , of the burning passion of love…

 

Such were the days of our pastime and there was no reason for complain.

But, of course, when examinations were to begin, we were losing a bit our valiant hussar’s valour… and with the third visitation tried to break through the trivial scholastic stereotypes of our respectable lecturers. But I should say we luckily passed the examinations, sometimes managed to do it even with the second visitation.

 

We had many interesting episodes in our student life, many of them have long time disappeared from my memory, but one had strictly and painfully printed in.

 

It so happened, that besides learning foreign languages and western literature which are now our constant occupation, we had to study as an additional subject, the Literature and Poetry of Ancient Greece andRome.

 

We were indignant and irritated very much. Why, we had to go through the hassle of learning sophisticated for understanding ancient verses of bearded Greek and Roman poets, coved with the sands of oblivion.

What on earth, we need to learn those complicated and abstruse lines by heart?

We screwed up our faces, our displeasure was great.  We considered ourselves to be real Anglomaniacs living, as we tried to imitate, the life of British “sybarites”.

We – the guys knowing very well how say love words in the language of footballer Bobby Charleton, we – there were no limits of our annoyance.

 

But it was Paul who made easier our disrespect to antic Roman verses and as for Greek mythology he and many of us were tolerant since the mythology was itself much easier and interesting in the childhood as compared with dull the Roman verses.

Paul cursed abominably in rough and coarse slang, and we all thanked him for he helped us to give way our emotions, having said bad words instead of us!

 

Though funny it was, but at first Greek and Latin literature everybody of students- free-thinkers were present.

I didn’t remember why, but I was there too. Paul was witting next to me smiling, talking and shinning like a spring rose.

He talked every time with his classmates, to girls in particular, to whom he felt never-ending passion, especially to those with black cherry liked eyes.

Probably, every student including me hoped to see a new venerable, hoary with age, lecturer, either man or woman that was not much important.

Everybody thought of a new lecturer to be the cleverest in the world as far as Greek and Latin poetry were concerned!

There was a joyful and cheerful atmosphere in the classroom despite of serious subject of study. That was simply explained by our young age when nobody thought about his future.

As soon as we saw in the doorways of the classroom the newcomer, all of us were shocked by what we had seen.

The New Greek and Latin literature lecturer had the very nice exotic appearance, which stroke us with her colorful degeneracy.

We saw the short, fat, native madam with weepy eyes, not every southern American boa had.

She glanced at us with dimmed gloomy eyes of marabou stork, shortly after it laid an egg successfully.

The big potato liked nose was a remarkable decoration attributed to her rare sex appeal.

And when that  a piece of nature work roared in low soprano her name which I in coming roar of students laughter, was not able to make out ( I managed to hear something sounding CHE ) and when that masterpiece of nature creation added she would teach us lines of complicated variants of Roman subtle style of verse, all of us went into ecstasies of laughter.

To our great surprise Che responded rather peacefully speaking to us in a good Russian pigeon language which increased our strange revelry.

 

-What’s up- Che pronounced as a good diligent Indian schoolgirl, torturing Russian language very much- Whyyy are youuu  laughing at? Why are youuuu so joyful at language courses?

 

We were not seen at that moment, because we were under our chairs.

I actually buried my eyes in my palms to escape of observing herHollywood’s movie star attraction.

 

-Wow, Hauo, Maou- Che began uttering strange for our ears sounds- Stooop yourrr laughterrr! Whyy youu were amazed by myyy name?- Che a roman intellectual  was surprised very much.

 

Gradually, with big efforts, we came to ourselves, and looked at Che with interest of her next actions.

Unfortunately, there were not any other eccentric tricks followed by, instead, what followed further, was of much trivial one.

When there was a bit of strained silence in the classroom.  Che attempted calling over the roll.

There were not class-journal of groups of students, as usual, and Che began calling roll by row of students.

 

Paul was a happy one sitting close to the desk of Che.

There was such a broad smile dancing on his cunning face that I thought he was the happiest man in our city enjoying this splendid performance of the introduction of a new lecturer.

 

-Wow, Howww, Maouu- Chew with her, probably casual way of meeting, addressed to Paul amicably – Stand up boy ( the classroom  uttered a groan of raising laughter thinking about the second part of the performance; stand up boy was excellent/ especially as far as it  was given to the “qualified sexologist” as Paul had been). 

- Stand up boy- Che repeated calmly again-What’ youuu nammmee?

Paul, after being ”returned” by Che into his already distant childhood, jump upright and suddenly all of us saw a cunning smile in his swamp color merry eyes.

He gallantly turned his head aside and uttered solemnly in a loud voice- My name is Padre Vaticano/ I am an Italian boy!

If I said everything was good in the classroom after Paul’s words I would be a lier.

We were paralyzed and looked at Che.

However, she reacted to the name of Italian boy calmly and without poor emotion, instead, she happily exclaimed – Wow! Maou, Paou- Howww interrresting – and wrote down Paul’s new stage name into her small notebook and went to the next student.

 

Next to Italian Paul was a pretty girl, many of our guys wanted to have her as girlfriend but failed. The pretty one preferred men elder than we were, and we often saw her in restaurants in the company of adult guys.

The girls stood up and said in a low beautiful voice that her name was Elizabeth Monroe and that she was a French girl.

What a comedy we saw!

However Che did not mention her foreign citizenship and wrote her down into her notorious notebook.

Then, after it, one Armenian, in born idler, introduced himself as Hussein  Aly Baba- an Iranian from the city ofMeshed.

We saw the monkey face of lecturer lighted up with satisfaction since Muslim religion was close to her-

-Very good! It is nice to meet you, dear Hussein!

Further, the avalanche of foreign names followed- Valery…. Sirano de Bradshaw and so on and forth….

 

When my turn began, I stood up at my desk and cordially introduced myself with sheer gallantry as guy from Toscana a neighbor and close friend of mister Padre Vaticano.

 

The rolling call had been marvelous one anyhow!

 

Our new Latin and Greek mythology lecturer had written down all foreign names of students into her scruffy notebook, reacting to foreign citizenship with a speed of tortoise.

 

But even the sweetest performance has its end! The bell rang and the comedy was over.

 

- Well – Paul grunted on the way to coffer-bar- I never seen such a lovely lesson in my life!

 

But what we met at the second round of our Greek and Roman adventure was not funny at all.

The Roman native lady flu into in the classroom in a wild rage as a mad donkey someone gave the injection of turpentine deeply into its anus.

She looked at us, sitting at our desks, with hatred and screamed sharply- Wow, Mou, Hou!

-Are youuu all pressenttt now!  I will showwww you all your foreign namessss- she shouted in a rage- I will give you all your foreign names! Everybody will be dancing when passing the examination!

 

- What is your real name- shouted Che goggling at Paul who was sitting unfortunately, at the first desk, anticipating with pleasure the continuation of the performance..

Paul did not expect such rough and brute attention to him and was scared with surprise!

He jump up to his short height and mattered shamefully- I am Brovkov/

-         Gaou/ Wouo-  Che yelled piercingly – What was the name you heel goat, told meee?  You told me your name was Padra Vaginata- Che was about to strike poor Paul against his head.

-No- Paul mumbled shamefully- I am Brovkov/ my father was Brovrov/ my grand father and grand grand….

-Shut up- Che jumped at him as a good karateka what was so much surprising taking into account her fat, low-profile bum.

- Go to the blackboard- Che was ready to kill poor Paul- You will be the first my victim. Tell me, you, ugly short  wether ram  what was happened during the second exile of Ovid to coast of far sea, you frustrated idiot!

 

Paul never heard before about that joyful Roman guy at all and it was natural, he said nothing standing as a silly swain near Che.

-         Get lost, you ignoramus idler- Che was on the verge of beating him - Bugger off to your shameful desk you, I don’t want to see you here a log ground squirrel  

 

Paul lowered his head, fearing of catching a kick into his ass, headed downcast for his desk.

 

Everyone had been at that blackboard that day, including me, and everyone had got his unsatisfactory mark!

All of us got that day second names as wretched rotten idlers.

 

 

-Wow- shouted Paul on our way to our coffee-bar,- I am afraid of we won’t not be able to skip through the claws of that native shark.

I was outraged shouting at him to shut up and cease of being a prophet. But it was late since I suddenly felt an icy coldness of Paul’s prophecy rolled down from the top of my head to my tailbone.

 

Roman lecturer Che made us to be silly monkeys.

 

She called us to go to the blackboard every lesson where she humbled us asking us about far forgotten verses of Roman poets.

Che was especially rude upon Paul and me, whereas the others felt a bit easier, since there were only two the most hatred victims of Roman native lady Che.

 

She put us unsatisfactory marks and seemed was proud very much of humiliating us. She did not want to hear our excuses in that she deliberately put us difficult questions and sometimes I catch myself on a thought whether she knew the subject herself. It seemed to me she was reading everything in study books herself. Though, I might be mistaken.

 

Time was passing by, but we were still unable to improve the situation in our favor.

Che passed near us in the corridor of the university as if we both had been nothing for her.

 

Thus, we could not improve our unsatisfactory marks in Greek and Roman literature.

We had already watched for numerous time the films of The Trojan wars and The Odyssey in the domain of darkness and antic heroes had already become our dear friends but not Roman poets who were absolutely unknown for us.

 

Due to our collapse with Roman poetry, we were deprived from university scholarship which aggravated our time drastically, since we had to go in unloading open freight cars with potatoes for we had to earn money to support our “sybarite British days”.

 

So we had no time to sit over the study books for Roman verses, and if we did that, then we would not have enough good time of drinking Arabica coffee in our famous coffee-bar.

 

Every time we were in bad mood, we rare smiled at our friends. More awful, we stopped courting girls and that was a dangerous sign of coming degradation.

 

Look- Paus exclaimed, sipping the cup of the coffee- What a rotten bitch Che  is!

Then he added the most curse words and dialectological phrases cursing Che by slang bad words.

I was in the state of   deep depression and spiritual despair, but nevertheless, found the forces to write down Paul’s new aphorism in order to enlarge my notion of the slang for future.

 

The failed examination had sagged over our heads like a big block of ice.

 

We, having lost the pride of “British sybarites” had to chase after Che and losing our pride actually begging of getting satisfactory marks as the two wretched homeless dogs asking for bare bone in the streets.                                     

 

But as for Che, she raised up to sky her hands like Siberian shamans and wrinkled her ugly spotty face we were ready to take for the divine image of goddess Artemis having Che got us the cherished long-suffering satisfactory mark for Roman verses, reprimanding cruelly- You two, both get lost/ I hate you very much. You go to the reading hall to learn Roman verses. You are full idlerssss Wow. Mow. Pauu.

 

What kind of sharp rebuff could we do? We were about to kill her…

 

And we had to faced our misfortune already after the forth visitation to Che.

 

She bared her yellow teeth in sarcastic killing smile telling us to visit again the reading hall in the university

 

Wow,Pau, Mau- these were not her exclamations but already ours.

We had already learnt Greek antic films by heart, but where we could find Roman verses?  Where we could find that dull scholastic study books?  All books were big and fat and we shuddered of the thought to open them and to sit all days in the stuffy reading rooms was beyond our strength.   

 

We had been in bad state of dismal mood and we saw no end of that bitter time of our hopelessness.

There was no happiness and unstrained revelry at out traditional coffee-bar parties.

The beloved cafe-bar became gloomy and not home-house for us. 

 

The unstrained mood was aggravated deeply by sad songs by Flora Kerimova the barman Alyk used to listen to regularly in the morning and the shinning sun in the window-glasses of the coffee-bar was not  able to stop our gloomy state of mind.

 

We felt distinctly that Life was not an easy thing!

 

We drank much wine and cursed both the dull and painful turns of the life. We had understood really all hassles of our days.

There was not any improvement in the state of things and each new day started resembling the past one.

 

We proposed one and the same toast cursing that rotten Wow, Auo,Paucreature that had made our young “ British sybarite” life unbearable.

“Oh Lord, please punish that rotten fat short legs Wow-Mau-Pau!

Lord, dear give us our long-awaited satisfactory mark!

 

But most probably, Lord was absent on some his business trip or may be He did not exist in the universe at all. That was proved by the medieval scientist Gallileo Galliley many centuries ago and Che had been actually a child of the Infusoria bacteria not a man!

 

Very often I watched Che in my nightmares. Che came to me in the long robe of the judge of peers and mercilessly passed me a death sentence or send me to galleys. I got up sweating and crying of horror and realized that nothing had changed for the better and felt spasms in my throat with choking cough.

Sometimes, but very seldom I had more happy dreams where Che, after distressful torturing, put me eventually my satisfactory mark.

 

The execution as it had been mentioned earlier lasted for a long period of time.

 

The new examinations which were to be decisive for admitting to the next course of studies at the university were approaching with the speed of express train.

 

Thus, if we would not pass that notorious Greek and Roman antic examination, we both, would not be permitted for the change examinations for removing to the next course of studies.

That might be a sheer catastrophe for us.

 

I can not recollect now but probably we both were the very miserable creatures to look at.

Many other friends and especially girls-friends did not understand what was happening with me and Paul. We ignored all but sitting for the whole days and evenings in the coffee-bar muttering and mumbling curious and strange prayers.

 

The burden of moral, physical and spiritual discomfort was aggravated drastically by the Tatar and Mongol terrible words by Che.

She had suddenly, contrary to all international rules of wars, declared us not to run after her in the corridors of the university and that she herself would tell us that happy day when she would give her consent to test our knowledge of her subject.

She “ killed us” once and for all!

For that last period of time I got thin strongly and was about to visit the madhouse for” serious consultations’”.

As for Paul, he had the appearance of a mummy and became much shorter than he had been.

 

 

  I asked my poor friend – Paul, what will we do? My glance was directed to nowhere into the coffee-bar.

- I don’t know – that was Paul’s reply. There were traces of shameful tears in our “ British syborate” eyes.

 

 But suddenly in one happy day, Che herself , stopped us in the long and dark corridor of the university and looking at us both, declared with utmost contempt that she was ready to test us but only for the last time.

 

We shouted “ Phuff! Wow< pau< Mauu and ran  quickly to the reading hall of our university library to inquire if they had any other study books to give us understanding of those rotten Greek and Roman antic verses.

 

 There were about thirty poor “student idlers”, as they were branded by Che, of some groups of our course of studies.

The lecturer asked us to sit down all at the last desks, whereas that, which was to pass the examination was to go to her table to answer her questions.

 

That was buried the last attempt to prompt to a miserable one appeared before her.

Che took out of her bag a cup and put it on the table near her, then she poured some tea into it out of kettle putting vapor of boiling and sipped the tea.

After this, she smiled sinister and said to us- I don’t care of your principle subjects you are to learn in your faculty/ but you should know  my Greek and Roman poetry by heart!

She never stopped sipping her tea and there was a grave silence in the classroom.

 

Everybody sat at his desk as if he was sitting on pins and needles.

All “ student idlers” listed the pages of the study books and looked through summary notes they got from other “diligent” students.

However Che as compared with us was in a very good mood, sipping her hot tea and looking at us with a sadist delight.

-         Wow,Pau, Mau- she shouted her ritual beginning – Who will be the first one to go to the blackboard?

 

Nobody wanted to be the first to test his last chance and there was still grave silence in the classroom.

 

Che noticed me and Paul among the others and “ attacked us shouting loudly- Hey You two! Why are you sitting in silence? I remember you were so noisy at my first coming by the way!

 

Dear readers, I believe you will understand me and Paul mood after such friendly greeting!

 

-Wow>Pau, Mau- Che was not going to stop teasing us – Well you thought about you as being men. Why are sitting now like country hens? Are you cowards?

Che was gravely teasing us- Who will go and retell meee, pau, mau the content of antic Odyssey?

 

Despite of being in the state as boxers say- the state of knockdown, I for all that realized that if I would not go and retell that sadist the content of my lovely movie, I would be a self-killer for after the Greek mythology Roman disgusting verses, were to follow, which to my mind were unknown not only for all of us, but probably for that Che herself.

May I- I did not say that- I simply muttered it but enough for Che to hear it.

-          

Che was surprised a bit and waved me with her hand.

 

I ran up to the blackboard to started to retell quickly the content of the movie I loved for the best.

 

Che was astonished at my right knowledge indeed, and turned to me in great surprise-Pau, May Wow- It seems to me you know some of antic mythology irrespective of your foreign citizenship. I can not now recollect who were you at my first lessons?

I was standing near her keeping dismal silence, my knees were trembling, I had  tachipnoe.

 

However, to my great relief, Che forgot the name of foreign country from which I came to her first Greek and Roman Poetry lesson and there was a monkey grimace of surprise on her face.

 

Che suddenly shouted again at me-Pau, Mau,  If you- idler know how I am personally tired of you/ To hell to you! I will put you satisfactory mark and get lost out of my sight for ever!

 

With these scornful insulting but sweet to hear words, she put me satisfactory mark into the journal of knowledge rating and turned her antic face away of me.

 

I ran back to my desk feeling a deep relief as if I had been fully recovered from a hard and dangerous mental disease I had ever had.

 

A sense of complete happiness filled my heart.  I was about to dance of relief.

 

Poor guy Paul was still living in the debris of dark Hell.  Poor fellow was sitting at the desk listing the study book, his swamp green eyes shinning wildly, he was howling quietly.

 

The next question in the list of questions made by sadist Che was the question about The Iliad.

 

I quickly whispered at Paul’s ear- Be quick/ Hurry up, we had watched the film about The Trojan Horse!

Go you fool or anyway somebody will pass ahead of you!!!

 

Paul jumped up and rushed as if scalded towards the blackboard without being invited by Che.

 

 It must be said that Che awaiting him with the gloating delight of ancient pterodactyl seeing the fresh meat

- Wow/Pau-she screamed in the classroom- Whom I see! The famous idler in the world! Mister Padra Vaginato as a visiting professor!

-No, no. no- Paul was mumbling quietly- I am Brovrov/ Brovrov…

 

- Are you really Brovrov? -  Che  tried to tease him in mocking tone- What are going to tell me now?

 

Paul paled and exited very much suddenly shouted in a loud voice- About the Iliad!

 

-No- Che screamed in response as if they wanted to contest in loud shouting – This is easy question/ You, pleaseee… pau, mau,  tell me what you know about the Ciceronian letters in the later period when Roman Poet Ovid was living far away fromRome?

 

I felt at my desk that ceiling crushed upon my head

 

- Ha, ha, ha – Paul shouted in unknown language even doesn’t distantly resemble his native speech!

Most probably, he wanted to reproduce the word “Yes”, but suddenly had resorted to the language of some small tribe living in the deep jungle of western coast ofAfrica.

 

- Oh!, yes, but I am not sure- Paul after he felt quick shock remembered his native words- It seems to me you are right teacher- he added, his face was as pale as a chalk.

-”

-Oh? no, It is not what you wanted to have- Che shouted hysterically and with quick reaction any oriental mullah attempting of doing circumcision would be proud of – This is the very easy task!  I know it- her eyes were as two gloomy eyes of a wild monitor lizard- You poor Russian old fox and good for nothing! You will now retell me about the vivid and prolific literary works of the great Roman poet Ovidl! 

 

 

 I was sitting at my desk, far from the place of execution and buried my face in my hands in horror.

 

- Wow- poor Paul screamed loudly and began stammering, his lips were trembling- Who-ooo?- he began whirling around  the Che’s table imitating child playing hide- and- seek-  Who is he?

” Che was furious- Why you don’t know him? If you will now not remember him I will kick your ass out of the room!

- Stop circling around me, wretched blockhead idler!

 

Sinister silence came into the room. We heard distinctly a fly buzzing near the ceiling.

 

I sat being prostrated very much and watched Paul’s running tricks in despair.

 

-Sit down- Che screamed resonantly at Paul pointing him a chair across her.

 

Poor Paul plopped into the chair, his back was directed to us.

I watched desperately the Paul’s stooped back.

 

- What was written in the letters of Ciceron- Che stared at Paul impatiently, forgot about Ovid.

 

Just after this yell, Paul suddenly, sharply, turned back to me sitting far away in “Alaska”.

 

“-Oh, my Lord! What were his eyes!”

 

 I saw naturally the whole field of horror in them as if the shears of a headman were already close to his balls

I realized him perished and guessed he tried to send me a distress call “Save Our Souls”.

 

But how could I help  him?

 

 There was a great distance between us, and Roman brilliant antic poet Ovid and a notorious Ciceron had been as dark for me as the moonless night and I was not sure if Che knew them both personally!

 

Che was filled with indignation shouting at Paul- Mau/ Wau!  Why you idler are turning your short bum to those who do no know at all !

 

They do not know Ovid themselves I am sure there are only sexy games in their heads.

 

“Wow”- I was surprised where she knew that latent desires many of us had in mind but not now at the execution by Greek and Roman poets.

 

- Hey – you  Brovkov former Padra Vaginato Che could say his pseudo name in a right way.

If you will not stop your shameful turning back every time I ask you, I’ll kick you off the room. Is it clear for you?

 

Poor Paul shuddering and stammering turned his face to his headman and began muttering something to my surprise, answering her questions.

Che furiously put one question after the other and the last was harder the previous one.

 

After each question poor Paul turned back to me , al the time, irrespective to be sent away off the classroom.

 

-I am telling you for the last timeeeee- pau mau, wau- Che stared at Paul with the wild eyes of a desert monitor lizard- Stop circling around your back and answer me….

 

The situation began to be the tragic one!

 

Poor Paul desperately hanged on for his dear life using his strong will and fragments of knowledge of Roman poetry which was surprising for very much for I personally hadn’t any idea of Ovid.

 

It  wasn’t a sport there but “murdering”.  

 

Suddenly, I felt the attack of Homeric laughter on me.

Such symptoms are broadly described in medical literature.

The people have however, more distinct determination:” as his nerves were ruined by strained situation and he lost control over him completely”.

I was fun with the panorama of Paul’s turning back after every question neglecting of being kicked into his ass.

I began already chuckling loudly in the classroom and could not stop it.

 

Che noticed my nervous fits and shouted at me ordering to leave the classroom quickly.

 

I was lucky for passing the last examination and that was the definition of my behavior.

 Of course, I took pity for Paul but I could not stop my hysteric laughter.

It was a terrible reaction on my own rescue.  

 

 I ran out the classroom in to the corridor. I fell down the chairs suffocating of a wild laughter. The people around me thought I got mad.

 

Soon the door of the classroom was opened and Paul came into the corridor of university as if he left his burial tomb.

Having seen him I stopped my silly laughter but was still coughing and hiccupping.

-         Why are laughing so wildly- grunted Paul gloomily and unfriendly.

What made you so fun- he said with the indignation.

I was scared to see him and asked him with agitation- Have you passed through her?

Paul gave me a long and serious glance under which I felt some coldness in my body and screamed furiously into the corridor- Yes, yes – I have passed that rotten native ugly, round faced bitch.

The people jumped up into the corridor out of neighboring rooms to see what was the noise and shouts in the corridor.

Paul paid no attention to them in wild oriental dancing, shouting loudly- I have passed that examination/ It is my victory now/

 

I saw his eyes of the British Syborate again.

 

-I have passed through the darkness debris of that rotten Roman Poetry.

These were his solemn words in the university corridor

 

We embraced and kissed each other tight and ran as fast as our legs could carry us to our beloved coffee-bar.

 

And now in the streets, Paul himself was screaming loudly sharing with the friends we met with his deserved happiness!

When we were already approached the doors of the coffee-bar, he stopped for a while and exclaimed joyfully- Hey haven’t you noticed that Che had an attractive oriental face- he made a mysterious pause then added- It was strange we hadn’t seen that before!

I said to him readily- Dear Paul, I agree with you fully. We were lucky ones to have a chance to watch a real copy of Aphrodite.

And with that victorious laughter we came in.

P/S:

How could Paul pass the Greek and Roman Poetry examination was left as his own secret?

 I did not insist on him to disclose me that and Paul himself was keeping silence.

But there was my suspicion on him that he, at deep nights, had stealthily had read the study book of Roman Poetry without informing me.  That was his little betrayal to our “British Syborites Life” principles.

And I remembered a situation at wars I read in one military book- “lower your head close to the ground and bullets would exactly fly high above your body!

Let it be laid heavily on conscious of Paul and that native Roman lecturer Che.

 Oh, Wow.Pau, Mau!

 

After the successful graduation from the university we had different roads in life.

Being quite an adult man, I left our lovely sunny land and removed to live to the northern cold country and lost all connection with Paul.

Some years ago I by a mere chance learned about his death. That bad news pressed me in a deep sorrow for him because I loved very much.

Poor Paul, may you on the heavens have all you want, and I will be remembering you until being alive.

Dear Paul- my best friend in my youth- a remarkable Padre Vaticano!

 

Gregory Trigger, 2003.Moscow.

 

 

 

                                                                Paul

 

When I was a student and had been a happy and joyful young man, I had the friend Paul Brovkov.

He was an awfully funny guy. You may consider by yourself: he was a short young fellow about 163 sm in height. His green narrow eyes were of swamp color; his nose was always reddish due to his lovely liking for drinking. And if manners and way of speaking in local specific dialect together with his incredible passion for Asian girls mostly are added to his characteristic features, then his appearance will be shown in all his beauty!

But there were also some positive features in Paul’s resume. Paul was a clever guy from his birth, keen-witted, talkative, cheerful and happy-go-lucky man. And besides, he was very good in English which was strange as it had been compared with all mentioned before.  Those people who did not know Paul could not take him as an English man at all, since they thought and were absolutely right, he was a real Russian rake.

They thought it was thank God Paul had some good character features,  but ,most probably, God had drank some wine himself and made those unpleasant mistakes I have said above.

Frankly saying, as I now remember, Paul was often in difficulty in getting public recognition.

Mostly, girls did not like him and for reasons only they knew.

As for Paul, he adored girls very much and often tried to talk with them on all every topics even considering the most serious and painful sex interconnection.

But as during his fixed monologues girls heard something clinking in his student bag ( Paul held there the glass and small bottle of wine every time) they refused of hearing his scholastic conclusions of early free love between younger generation and asked him to get out from the student hostel.

Paul was not upset somehow and removed to another student housel where girls had not yet heard his speeches of a great sexologist.

 

We both liked in that happy days of our student life to sit for all time at our friends get-together parties where we were laughing, speaking loudly, listening to the music we liked for the best, making noise and behaved ourselves strictly as all young people used to.  And as natural, we drank as much white and red wines we could afford to, proposing silly toasts for never ending youth!

Paul had been splendid himself as the heart and soul of every jolly crowd!

He stood upright for his “napoleon’ height keeping tight the glass of wine in his hand advancing his hit of motto-: “May this glass of wine be not the last one!” And it was impossible not to admire at him at that moment!

All of us jumped up as on command, shouting at the top of our voices that we were absolutely agreed with him and support his historical slogan!  

 

Paul was a very nice and “interesting” guy; I liked him from the very first glance when we met each other right after all of us had gathered in the university classroom for attending our first lecture at the university. I said I liked Paul and we became close friends from scratch.

Here I must do some lyrical remarks anyway it might be not earnest for Paul.

I was a real truant and idler myself, and we both were full-fledged slackers – the original duet of idlers belonging to it’s the most unattractive rank- the intellectual idlers!

We could due to our “inner latent talents” to truant dull and tedious lectures and routine seminars habitually and voluntary but afterwards for one night prepare the missed subject and answer it rather satisfactorily getting a good mark.

We could do it, but our respectable lecturers had been positively disagreed with our passing examination without attending casual lectures and seminars.

Thrеrеfore, our innovatory method of studies was not admitted by the sub-department of our faculty.

Certainly, we were not lucky ones in our fight for our method and often failed fully.

 I recollect now, when writing these lines, the time of our studies at the university and to my great adult surprise recognize that it was distressful for me to get up early in the morning to go to lectures.

I remember how I had been annoyed and grinding my teeth because of unwillingness to be given lectures so early in the morning. I considered naively I had already become a clever one since we had already passed the Rubicon after two years of studies at the university.

I must confess it was really hard for me to attend dull lectures in the morning, but nevertheless I had to go to.

I was taking bus not fully getting up and thought with relief that as soon as I got the main entrance of the university I would meet without doubt my classmate Paul who was awaiting me there  as usual.

My feeling depended fully upon the time of the season and I would feel miserable if I would miss a good chance to truant lecture and visit our beloved and, very much popular among the students, coffer bar where me and Paul were frequent customers.

 

We never waste out time to stand any longer at the main entrance of the university and went directly to famous coffer-bar readily.

Usually me, or Paul said lazily and somehow indifferently suggesting to ignore unnecessary, bothered dull seminars and to go and have a good time in the coffer-bar.

There was never objection and, we ran quickly with loud and happy laughter to the pace of our usual entertainment.

 

We were met in the doorways of the coffer-bar by Alyk- barman-immigrant who knew many oriental jokes and proverbs and vulgar funny stories.

The barman Alyk could prank for the whole day of working, slinging the bat language as he had been a

Foreigner arrived in as an immigrant.

Curiously it  was, that Alyk began speaking our language with curse words at first. We realized somebody taught him slang and bad language for the sake of humor but Alyk remembered them for best and used them in situations when they were right and, very often, in cases they were fully senseless. But Alyk eventually had learned that curse words were not to be heard by girls and to our surprise, avoided them.

The barman met us in his coffer-bar by adorable aroma of roasted black coffee he used to cook by the way only he knew well and simultaneously with the sounds of lovely music of love sang by one of the popular singer in our country in oriental melodic voice-“ Sargoshi, am I am am dam I am drank of the love, of the love, of the love- Tara dam dam da dam…

Alyk quickly jumped out of his room of utility carrying the tray with washed clean cups, and there were big tears in his black eyes rolling down his cheeks. The barman was very much sensitive to such songs about unhappy love…

Me and Paul embraced in the manner the Greeks dancing their famous Sirtaki and began circling around the bar counter, singing backup the popular singer-“ We are drank of the love. La la la,of the love, of the love…

Soon we were full of delight of drinking of well done black coffee and the barman was ready to give us our usual morning portion of pleasure -  a cup of hot coffee with small wine glass of Armenian cognac

and a small bar of chocolate- “We re drank of the love/ of the love , of the burning passion of love…

 

Such were the days of our pastime and there was no reason for complain.

But, of course, when examinations were to begin, we were losing a bit our valiant hussar’s valour… and with the third visitation tried to break through the trivial scholastic stereotypes of our respectable lecturers. But I should say we luckily passed the examinations, sometimes managed to do it even with the second visitation.

 

We had many interesting episodes in our student life, many of them have long time disappeared from my memory, but one had strictly and painfully printed in.

 

It so happened, that besides learning foreign languages and western literature which are now our constant occupation, we had to study as an additional subject, the Literature and Poetry of Ancient Greece andRome.

 

We were indignant and irritated very much. Why, we had to go through the hassle of learning sophisticated for understanding ancient verses of bearded Greek and Roman poets, coved with the sands of oblivion.

What on earth, we need to learn those complicated and abstruse lines by heart?

We screwed up our faces, our displeasure was great.  We considered ourselves to be real Anglomaniacs living, as we tried to imitate, the life of British “sybarites”.

We – the guys knowing very well how say love words in the language of footballer Bobby Charleton, we – there were no limits of our annoyance.

 

But it was Paul who made easier our disrespect to antic Roman verses and as for Greek mythology he and many of us were tolerant since the mythology was itself much easier and interesting in the childhood as compared with dull the Roman verses.

Paul cursed abominably in rough and coarse slang, and we all thanked him for he helped us to give way our emotions, having said bad words instead of us!

 

Though funny it was, but at first Greek and Latin literature everybody of students- free-thinkers were present.

I didn’t remember why, but I was there too. Paul was witting next to me smiling, talking and shinning like a spring rose.

He talked every time with his classmates, to girls in particular, to whom he felt never-ending passion, especially to those with black cherry liked eyes.

Probably, every student including me hoped to see a new venerable, hoary with age, lecturer, either man or woman that was not much important.

Everybody thought of a new lecturer to be the cleverest in the world as far as Greek and Latin poetry were concerned!

There was a joyful and cheerful atmosphere in the classroom despite of serious subject of study. That was simply explained by our young age when nobody thought about his future.

As soon as we saw in the doorways of the classroom the newcomer, all of us were shocked by what we had seen.

The New Greek and Latin literature lecturer had the very nice exotic appearance, which stroke us with her colorful degeneracy.

We saw the short, fat, native madam with weepy eyes, not every southern American boa had.

She glanced at us with dimmed gloomy eyes of marabou stork, shortly after it laid an egg successfully.

The big potato liked nose was a remarkable decoration attributed to her rare sex appeal.

And when that  a piece of nature work roared in low soprano her name which I in coming roar of students laughter, was not able to make out ( I managed to hear something sounding CHE ) and when that masterpiece of nature creation added she would teach us lines of complicated variants of Roman subtle style of verse, all of us went into ecstasies of laughter.

To our great surprise Che responded rather peacefully speaking to us in a good Russian pigeon language which increased our strange revelry.

 

-What’s up- Che pronounced as a good diligent Indian schoolgirl, torturing Russian language very much- Whyyy are youuu  laughing at? Why are youuuu so joyful at language courses?

 

We were not seen at that moment, because we were under our chairs.

I actually buried my eyes in my palms to escape of observing herHollywood’s movie star attraction.

 

-Wow, Hauo, Maou- Che began uttering strange for our ears sounds- Stooop yourrr laughterrr! Whyy youu were amazed by myyy name?- Che a roman intellectual  was surprised very much.

 

Gradually, with big efforts, we came to ourselves, and looked at Che with interest of her next actions.

Unfortunately, there were not any other eccentric tricks followed by, instead, what followed further, was of much trivial one.

When there was a bit of strained silence in the classroom.  Che attempted calling over the roll.

There were not class-journal of groups of students, as usual, and Che began calling roll by row of students.

 

Paul was a happy one sitting close to the desk of Che.

There was such a broad smile dancing on his cunning face that I thought he was the happiest man in our city enjoying this splendid performance of the introduction of a new lecturer.

 

-Wow, Howww, Maouu- Chew with her, probably casual way of meeting, addressed to Paul amicably – Stand up boy ( the classroom  uttered a groan of raising laughter thinking about the second part of the performance; stand up boy was excellent/ especially as far as it  was given to the “qualified sexologist” as Paul had been). 

- Stand up boy- Che repeated calmly again-What’ youuu nammmee?

Paul, after being ”returned” by Che into his already distant childhood, jump upright and suddenly all of us saw a cunning smile in his swamp color merry eyes.

He gallantly turned his head aside and uttered solemnly in a loud voice- My name is Padre Vaticano/ I am an Italian boy!

If I said everything was good in the classroom after Paul’s words I would be a lier.

We were paralyzed and looked at Che.

However, she reacted to the name of Italian boy calmly and without poor emotion, instead, she happily exclaimed – Wow! Maou, Paou- Howww interrresting – and wrote down Paul’s new stage name into her small notebook and went to the next student.

 

Next to Italian Paul was a pretty girl, many of our guys wanted to have her as girlfriend but failed. The pretty one preferred men elder than we were, and we often saw her in restaurants in the company of adult guys.

The girls stood up and said in a low beautiful voice that her name was Elizabeth Monroe and that she was a French girl.

What a comedy we saw!

However Che did not mention her foreign citizenship and wrote her down into her notorious notebook.

Then, after it, one Armenian, in born idler, introduced himself as Hussein  Aly Baba- an Iranian from the city ofMeshed.

We saw the monkey face of lecturer lighted up with satisfaction since Muslim religion was close to her-

-Very good! It is nice to meet you, dear Hussein!

Further, the avalanche of foreign names followed- Valery…. Sirano de Bradshaw and so on and forth….

 

When my turn began, I stood up at my desk and cordially introduced myself with sheer gallantry as guy from Toscana a neighbor and close friend of mister Padre Vaticano.

 

The rolling call had been marvelous one anyhow!

 

Our new Latin and Greek mythology lecturer had written down all foreign names of students into her scruffy notebook, reacting to foreign citizenship with a speed of tortoise.

 

But even the sweetest performance has its end! The bell rang and the comedy was over.

 

- Well – Paul grunted on the way to coffer-bar- I never seen such a lovely lesson in my life!

 

But what we met at the second round of our Greek and Roman adventure was not funny at all.

The Roman native lady flu into in the classroom in a wild rage as a mad donkey someone gave the injection of turpentine deeply into its anus.

She looked at us, sitting at our desks, with hatred and screamed sharply- Wow, Mou, Hou!

-Are youuu all pressenttt now!  I will showwww you all your foreign namessss- she shouted in a rage- I will give you all your foreign names! Everybody will be dancing when passing the examination!

 

- What is your real name- shouted Che goggling at Paul who was sitting unfortunately, at the first desk, anticipating with pleasure the continuation of the performance..

Paul did not expect such rough and brute attention to him and was scared with surprise!

He jump up to his short height and mattered shamefully- I am Brovkov/

-         Gaou/ Wouo-  Che yelled piercingly – What was the name you heel goat, told meee?  You told me your name was Padra Vaginata- Che was about to strike poor Paul against his head.

-No- Paul mumbled shamefully- I am Brovkov/ my father was Brovrov/ my grand father and grand grand….

-Shut up- Che jumped at him as a good karateka what was so much surprising taking into account her fat, low-profile bum.

- Go to the blackboard- Che was ready to kill poor Paul- You will be the first my victim. Tell me, you, ugly short  wether ram  what was happened during the second exile of Ovid to coast of far sea, you frustrated idiot!

 

Paul never heard before about that joyful Roman guy at all and it was natural, he said nothing standing as a silly swain near Che.

-         Get lost, you ignoramus idler- Che was on the verge of beating him - Bugger off to your shameful desk you, I don’t want to see you here a log ground squirrel  

 

Paul lowered his head, fearing of catching a kick into his ass, headed downcast for his desk.

 

Everyone had been at that blackboard that day, including me, and everyone had got his unsatisfactory mark!

All of us got that day second names as wretched rotten idlers.

 

 

-Wow- shouted Paul on our way to our coffee-bar,- I am afraid of we won’t not be able to skip through the claws of that native shark.

I was outraged shouting at him to shut up and cease of being a prophet. But it was late since I suddenly felt an icy coldness of Paul’s prophecy rolled down from the top of my head to my tailbone.

 

Roman lecturer Che made us to be silly monkeys.

 

She called us to go to the blackboard every lesson where she humbled us asking us about far forgotten verses of Roman poets.

Che was especially rude upon Paul and me, whereas the others felt a bit easier, since there were only two the most hatred victims of Roman native lady Che.

 

She put us unsatisfactory marks and seemed was proud very much of humiliating us. She did not want to hear our excuses in that she deliberately put us difficult questions and sometimes I catch myself on a thought whether she knew the subject herself. It seemed to me she was reading everything in study books herself. Though, I might be mistaken.

 

Time was passing by, but we were still unable to improve the situation in our favor.

Che passed near us in the corridor of the university as if we both had been nothing for her.

 

Thus, we could not improve our unsatisfactory marks in Greek and Roman literature.

We had already watched for numerous time the films of The Trojan wars and The Odyssey in the domain of darkness and antic heroes had already become our dear friends but not Roman poets who were absolutely unknown for us.

 

Due to our collapse with Roman poetry, we were deprived from university scholarship which aggravated our time drastically, since we had to go in unloading open freight cars with potatoes for we had to earn money to support our “sybarite British days”.

 

So we had no time to sit over the study books for Roman verses, and if we did that, then we would not have enough good time of drinking Arabica coffee in our famous coffee-bar.

 

Every time we were in bad mood, we rare smiled at our friends. More awful, we stopped courting girls and that was a dangerous sign of coming degradation.

 

Look- Paus exclaimed, sipping the cup of the coffee- What a rotten bitch Che  is!

Then he added the most curse words and dialectological phrases cursing Che by slang bad words.

I was in the state of   deep depression and spiritual despair, but nevertheless, found the forces to write down Paul’s new aphorism in order to enlarge my notion of the slang for future.

 

The failed examination had sagged over our heads like a big block of ice.

 

We, having lost the pride of “British sybarites” had to chase after Che and losing our pride actually begging of getting satisfactory marks as the two wretched homeless dogs asking for bare bone in the streets.                                     

 

But as for Che, she raised up to sky her hands like Siberian shamans and wrinkled her ugly spotty face we were ready to take for the divine image of goddess Artemis having Che got us the cherished long-suffering satisfactory mark for Roman verses, reprimanding cruelly- You two, both get lost/ I hate you very much. You go to the reading hall to learn Roman verses. You are full idlerssss Wow. Mow. Pauu.

 

What kind of sharp rebuff could we do? We were about to kill her…

 

And we had to faced our misfortune already after the forth visitation to Che.

 

She bared her yellow teeth in sarcastic killing smile telling us to visit again the reading hall in the university

 

Wow,Pau, Mau- these were not her exclamations but already ours.

We had already learnt Greek antic films by heart, but where we could find Roman verses?  Where we could find that dull scholastic study books?  All books were big and fat and we shuddered of the thought to open them and to sit all days in the stuffy reading rooms was beyond our strength.   

 

We had been in bad state of dismal mood and we saw no end of that bitter time of our hopelessness.

There was no happiness and unstrained revelry at out traditional coffee-bar parties.

The beloved cafe-bar became gloomy and not home-house for us. 

 

The unstrained mood was aggravated deeply by sad songs by Flora Kerimova the barman Alyk used to listen to regularly in the morning and the shinning sun in the window-glasses of the coffee-bar was not  able to stop our gloomy state of mind.

 

We felt distinctly that Life was not an easy thing!

 

We drank much wine and cursed both the dull and painful turns of the life. We had understood really all hassles of our days.

There was not any improvement in the state of things and each new day started resembling the past one.

 

We proposed one and the same toast cursing that rotten Wow, Auo,Paucreature that had made our young “ British sybarite” life unbearable.

“Oh Lord, please punish that rotten fat short legs Wow-Mau-Pau!

Lord, dear give us our long-awaited satisfactory mark!

 

But most probably, Lord was absent on some his business trip or may be He did not exist in the universe at all. That was proved by the medieval scientist Gallileo Galliley many centuries ago and Che had been actually a child of the Infusoria bacteria not a man!

 

Very often I watched Che in my nightmares. Che came to me in the long robe of the judge of peers and mercilessly passed me a death sentence or send me to galleys. I got up sweating and crying of horror and realized that nothing had changed for the better and felt spasms in my throat with choking cough.

Sometimes, but very seldom I had more happy dreams where Che, after distressful torturing, put me eventually my satisfactory mark.

 

The execution as it had been mentioned earlier lasted for a long period of time.

 

The new examinations which were to be decisive for admitting to the next course of studies at the university were approaching with the speed of express train.

 

Thus, if we would not pass that notorious Greek and Roman antic examination, we both, would not be permitted for the change examinations for removing to the next course of studies.

That might be a sheer catastrophe for us.

 

I can not recollect now but probably we both were the very miserable creatures to look at.

Many other friends and especially girls-friends did not understand what was happening with me and Paul. We ignored all but sitting for the whole days and evenings in the coffee-bar muttering and mumbling curious and strange prayers.

 

The burden of moral, physical and spiritual discomfort was aggravated drastically by the Tatar and Mongol terrible words by Che.

She had suddenly, contrary to all international rules of wars, declared us not to run after her in the corridors of the university and that she herself would tell us that happy day when she would give her consent to test our knowledge of her subject.

She “ killed us” once and for all!

For that last period of time I got thin strongly and was about to visit the madhouse for” serious consultations’”.

As for Paul, he had the appearance of a mummy and became much shorter than he had been.

 

 

  I asked my poor friend – Paul, what will we do? My glance was directed to nowhere into the coffee-bar.

- I don’t know – that was Paul’s reply. There were traces of shameful tears in our “ British syborate” eyes.

 

 But suddenly in one happy day, Che herself , stopped us in the long and dark corridor of the university and looking at us both, declared with utmost contempt that she was ready to test us but only for the last time.

 

We shouted “ Phuff! Wow< pau< Mauu and ran  quickly to the reading hall of our university library to inquire if they had any other study books to give us understanding of those rotten Greek and Roman antic verses.

 

 There were about thirty poor “student idlers”, as they were branded by Che, of some groups of our course of studies.

The lecturer asked us to sit down all at the last desks, whereas that, which was to pass the examination was to go to her table to answer her questions.

 

That was buried the last attempt to prompt to a miserable one appeared before her.

Che took out of her bag a cup and put it on the table near her, then she poured some tea into it out of kettle putting vapor of boiling and sipped the tea.

After this, she smiled sinister and said to us- I don’t care of your principle subjects you are to learn in your faculty/ but you should know  my Greek and Roman poetry by heart!

She never stopped sipping her tea and there was a grave silence in the classroom.

 

Everybody sat at his desk as if he was sitting on pins and needles.

All “ student idlers” listed the pages of the study books and looked through summary notes they got from other “diligent” students.

However Che as compared with us was in a very good mood, sipping her hot tea and looking at us with a sadist delight.

-         Wow,Pau, Mau- she shouted her ritual beginning – Who will be the first one to go to the blackboard?

 

Nobody wanted to be the first to test his last chance and there was still grave silence in the classroom.

 

Che noticed me and Paul among the others and “ attacked us shouting loudly- Hey You two! Why are you sitting in silence? I remember you were so noisy at my first coming by the way!

 

Dear readers, I believe you will understand me and Paul mood after such friendly greeting!

 

-Wow>Pau, Mau- Che was not going to stop teasing us – Well you thought about you as being men. Why are sitting now like country hens? Are you cowards?

Che was gravely teasing us- Who will go and retell meee, pau, mau the content of antic Odyssey?

 

Despite of being in the state as boxers say- the state of knockdown, I for all that realized that if I would not go and retell that sadist the content of my lovely movie, I would be a self-killer for after the Greek mythology Roman disgusting verses, were to follow, which to my mind were unknown not only for all of us, but probably for that Che herself.

May I- I did not say that- I simply muttered it but enough for Che to hear it.

-          

Che was surprised a bit and waved me with her hand.

 

I ran up to the blackboard to started to retell quickly the content of the movie I loved for the best.

 

Che was astonished at my right knowledge indeed, and turned to me in great surprise-Pau, May Wow- It seems to me you know some of antic mythology irrespective of your foreign citizenship. I can not now recollect who were you at my first lessons?

I was standing near her keeping dismal silence, my knees were trembling, I had  tachipnoe.

 

However, to my great relief, Che forgot the name of foreign country from which I came to her first Greek and Roman Poetry lesson and there was a monkey grimace of surprise on her face.

 

Che suddenly shouted again at me-Pau, Mau,  If you- idler know how I am personally tired of you/ To hell to you! I will put you satisfactory mark and get lost out of my sight for ever!

 

With these scornful insulting but sweet to hear words, she put me satisfactory mark into the journal of knowledge rating and turned her antic face away of me.

 

I ran back to my desk feeling a deep relief as if I had been fully recovered from a hard and dangerous mental disease I had ever had.

 

A sense of complete happiness filled my heart.  I was about to dance of relief.

 

Poor guy Paul was still living in the debris of dark Hell.  Poor fellow was sitting at the desk listing the study book, his swamp green eyes shinning wildly, he was howling quietly.

 

The next question in the list of questions made by sadist Che was the question about The Iliad.

 

I quickly whispered at Paul’s ear- Be quick/ Hurry up, we had watched the film about The Trojan Horse!

Go you fool or anyway somebody will pass ahead of you!!!

 

Paul jumped up and rushed as if scalded towards the blackboard without being invited by Che.

 

 It must be said that Che awaiting him with the gloating delight of ancient pterodactyl seeing the fresh meat

- Wow/Pau-she screamed in the classroom- Whom I see! The famous idler in the world! Mister Padra Vaginato as a visiting professor!

-No, no. no- Paul was mumbling quietly- I am Brovrov/ Brovrov…

 

- Are you really Brovrov? -  Che  tried to tease him in mocking tone- What are going to tell me now?

 

Paul paled and exited very much suddenly shouted in a loud voice- About the Iliad!

 

-No- Che screamed in response as if they wanted to contest in loud shouting – This is easy question/ You, pleaseee… pau, mau,  tell me what you know about the Ciceronian letters in the later period when Roman Poet Ovid was living far away fromRome?

 

I felt at my desk that ceiling crushed upon my head

 

- Ha, ha, ha – Paul shouted in unknown language even doesn’t distantly resemble his native speech!

Most probably, he wanted to reproduce the word “Yes”, but suddenly had resorted to the language of some small tribe living in the deep jungle of western coast ofAfrica.

 

- Oh!, yes, but I am not sure- Paul after he felt quick shock remembered his native words- It seems to me you are right teacher- he added, his face was as pale as a chalk.

-”

-Oh? no, It is not what you wanted to have- Che shouted hysterically and with quick reaction any oriental mullah attempting of doing circumcision would be proud of – This is the very easy task!  I know it- her eyes were as two gloomy eyes of a wild monitor lizard- You poor Russian old fox and good for nothing! You will now retell me about the vivid and prolific literary works of the great Roman poet Ovidl! 

 

 

 I was sitting at my desk, far from the place of execution and buried my face in my hands in horror.

 

- Wow- poor Paul screamed loudly and began stammering, his lips were trembling- Who-ooo?- he began whirling around  the Che’s table imitating child playing hide- and- seek-  Who is he?

” Che was furious- Why you don’t know him? If you will now not remember him I will kick your ass out of the room!

- Stop circling around me, wretched blockhead idler!

 

Sinister silence came into the room. We heard distinctly a fly buzzing near the ceiling.

 

I sat being prostrated very much and watched Paul’s running tricks in despair.

 

-Sit down- Che screamed resonantly at Paul pointing him a chair across her.

 

Poor Paul plopped into the chair, his back was directed to us.

I watched desperately the Paul’s stooped back.

 

- What was written in the letters of Ciceron- Che stared at Paul impatiently, forgot about Ovid.

 

Just after this yell, Paul suddenly, sharply, turned back to me sitting far away in “Alaska”.

 

“-Oh, my Lord! What were his eyes!”

 

 I saw naturally the whole field of horror in them as if the shears of a headman were already close to his balls

I realized him perished and guessed he tried to send me a distress call “Save Our Souls”.

 

But how could I help  him?

 

 There was a great distance between us, and Roman brilliant antic poet Ovid and a notorious Ciceron had been as dark for me as the moonless night and I was not sure if Che knew them both personally!

 

Che was filled with indignation shouting at Paul- Mau/ Wau!  Why you idler are turning your short bum to those who do no know at all !

 

They do not know Ovid themselves I am sure there are only sexy games in their heads.

 

“Wow”- I was surprised where she knew that latent desires many of us had in mind but not now at the execution by Greek and Roman poets.

 

- Hey – you  Brovkov former Padra Vaginato Che could say his pseudo name in a right way.

If you will not stop your shameful turning back every time I ask you, I’ll kick you off the room. Is it clear for you?

 

Poor Paul shuddering and stammering turned his face to his headman and began muttering something to my surprise, answering her questions.

Che furiously put one question after the other and the last was harder the previous one.

 

After each question poor Paul turned back to me , al the time, irrespective to be sent away off the classroom.

 

-I am telling you for the last timeeeee- pau mau, wau- Che stared at Paul with the wild eyes of a desert monitor lizard- Stop circling around your back and answer me….

 

The situation began to be the tragic one!

 

Poor Paul desperately hanged on for his dear life using his strong will and fragments of knowledge of Roman poetry which was surprising for very much for I personally hadn’t any idea of Ovid.

 

It  wasn’t a sport there but “murdering”.  

 

Suddenly, I felt the attack of Homeric laughter on me.

Such symptoms are broadly described in medical literature.

The people have however, more distinct determination:” as his nerves were ruined by strained situation and he lost control over him completely”.

I was fun with the panorama of Paul’s turning back after every question neglecting of being kicked into his ass.

I began already chuckling loudly in the classroom and could not stop it.

 

Che noticed my nervous fits and shouted at me ordering to leave the classroom quickly.

 

I was lucky for passing the last examination and that was the definition of my behavior.

 Of course, I took pity for Paul but I could not stop my hysteric laughter.

It was a terrible reaction on my own rescue.  

 

 I ran out the classroom in to the corridor. I fell down the chairs suffocating of a wild laughter. The people around me thought I got mad.

 

Soon the door of the classroom was opened and Paul came into the corridor of university as if he left his burial tomb.

Having seen him I stopped my silly laughter but was still coughing and hiccupping.

-         Why are laughing so wildly- grunted Paul gloomily and unfriendly.

What made you so fun- he said with the indignation.

I was scared to see him and asked him with agitation- Have you passed through her?

Paul gave me a long and serious glance under which I felt some coldness in my body and screamed furiously into the corridor- Yes, yes – I have passed that rotten native ugly, round faced bitch.

The people jumped up into the corridor out of neighboring rooms to see what was the noise and shouts in the corridor.

Paul paid no attention to them in wild oriental dancing, shouting loudly- I have passed that examination/ It is my victory now/

 

I saw his eyes of the British Syborate again.

 

-I have passed through the darkness debris of that rotten Roman Poetry.

These were his solemn words in the university corridor

 

We embraced and kissed each other tight and ran as fast as our legs could carry us to our beloved coffee-bar.

 

And now in the streets, Paul himself was screaming loudly sharing with the friends we met with his deserved happiness!

When we were already approached the doors of the coffee-bar, he stopped for a while and exclaimed joyfully- Hey haven’t you noticed that Che had an attractive oriental face- he made a mysterious pause then added- It was strange we hadn’t seen that before!

I said to him readily- Dear Paul, I agree with you fully. We were lucky ones to have a chance to watch a real copy of Aphrodite.

And with that victorious laughter we came in.

P/S:

How could Paul pass the Greek and Roman Poetry examination was left as his own secret?

 I did not insist on him to disclose me that and Paul himself was keeping silence.

But there was my suspicion on him that he, at deep nights, had stealthily had read the study book of Roman Poetry without informing me.  That was his little betrayal to our “British Syborites Life” principles.

And I remembered a situation at wars I read in one military book- “lower your head close to the ground and bullets would exactly fly high above your body!

Let it be laid heavily on conscious of Paul and that native Roman lecturer Che.

 Oh, Wow.Pau, Mau!

 

After the successful graduation from the university we had different roads in life.

Being quite an adult man, I left our lovely sunny land and removed to live to the northern cold country and lost all connection with Paul.

Some years ago I by a mere chance learned about his death. That bad news pressed me in a deep sorrow for him because I loved very much.

Poor Paul, may you on the heavens have all you want, and I will be remembering you until being alive.

Dear Paul- my best friend in my youth- a remarkable Padre Vaticano!

 

Gregory Trigger, 2003.Moscow.

 

 

 

                                                                Paul

 

When I was a student and had been a happy and joyful young man, I had the friend Paul Brovkov.

He was an awfully funny guy. You may consider by yourself: he was a short young fellow about 163 sm in height. His green narrow eyes were of swamp color; his nose was always reddish due to his lovely liking for drinking. And if manners and way of speaking in local specific dialect together with his incredible passion for Asian girls mostly are added to his characteristic features, then his appearance will be shown in all his beauty!

But there were also some positive features in Paul’s resume. Paul was a clever guy from his birth, keen-witted, talkative, cheerful and happy-go-lucky man. And besides, he was very good in English which was strange as it had been compared with all mentioned before.  Those people who did not know Paul could not take him as an English man at all, since they thought and were absolutely right, he was a real Russian rake.

They thought it was thank God Paul had some good character features,  but ,most probably, God had drank some wine himself and made those unpleasant mistakes I have said above.

Frankly saying, as I now remember, Paul was often in difficulty in getting public recognition.

Mostly, girls did not like him and for reasons only they knew.

As for Paul, he adored girls very much and often tried to talk with them on all every topics even considering the most serious and painful sex interconnection.

But as during his fixed monologues girls heard something clinking in his student bag ( Paul held there the glass and small bottle of wine every time) they refused of hearing his scholastic conclusions of early free love between younger generation and asked him to get out from the student hostel.

Paul was not upset somehow and removed to another student housel where girls had not yet heard his speeches of a great sexologist.

 

We both liked in that happy days of our student life to sit for all time at our friends get-together parties where we were laughing, speaking loudly, listening to the music we liked for the best, making noise and behaved ourselves strictly as all young people used to.  And as natural, we drank as much white and red wines we could afford to, proposing silly toasts for never ending youth!

Paul had been splendid himself as the heart and soul of every jolly crowd!

He stood upright for his “napoleon’ height keeping tight the glass of wine in his hand advancing his hit of motto-: “May this glass of wine be not the last one!” And it was impossible not to admire at him at that moment!

All of us jumped up as on command, shouting at the top of our voices that we were absolutely agreed with him and support his historical slogan!  

 

Paul was a very nice and “interesting” guy; I liked him from the very first glance when we met each other right after all of us had gathered in the university classroom for attending our first lecture at the university. I said I liked Paul and we became close friends from scratch.

Here I must do some lyrical remarks anyway it might be not earnest for Paul.

I was a real truant and idler myself, and we both were full-fledged slackers – the original duet of idlers belonging to it’s the most unattractive rank- the intellectual idlers!

We could due to our “inner latent talents” to truant dull and tedious lectures and routine seminars habitually and voluntary but afterwards for one night prepare the missed subject and answer it rather satisfactorily getting a good mark.

We could do it, but our respectable lecturers had been positively disagreed with our passing examination without attending casual lectures and seminars.

Thrеrеfore, our innovatory method of studies was not admitted by the sub-department of our faculty.

Certainly, we were not lucky ones in our fight for our method and often failed fully.

 I recollect now, when writing these lines, the time of our studies at the university and to my great adult surprise recognize that it was distressful for me to get up early in the morning to go to lectures.

I remember how I had been annoyed and grinding my teeth because of unwillingness to be given lectures so early in the morning. I considered naively I had already become a clever one since we had already passed the Rubicon after two years of studies at the university.

I must confess it was really hard for me to attend dull lectures in the morning, but nevertheless I had to go to.

I was taking bus not fully getting up and thought with relief that as soon as I got the main entrance of the university I would meet without doubt my classmate Paul who was awaiting me there  as usual.

My feeling depended fully upon the time of the season and I would feel miserable if I would miss a good chance to truant lecture and visit our beloved and, very much popular among the students, coffer bar where me and Paul were frequent customers.

 

We never waste out time to stand any longer at the main entrance of the university and went directly to famous coffer-bar readily.

Usually me, or Paul said lazily and somehow indifferently suggesting to ignore unnecessary, bothered dull seminars and to go and have a good time in the coffer-bar.

There was never objection and, we ran quickly with loud and happy laughter to the pace of our usual entertainment.

 

We were met in the doorways of the coffer-bar by Alyk- barman-immigrant who knew many oriental jokes and proverbs and vulgar funny stories.

The barman Alyk could prank for the whole day of working, slinging the bat language as he had been a

Foreigner arrived in as an immigrant.

Curiously it  was, that Alyk began speaking our language with curse words at first. We realized somebody taught him slang and bad language for the sake of humor but Alyk remembered them for best and used them in situations when they were right and, very often, in cases they were fully senseless. But Alyk eventually had learned that curse words were not to be heard by girls and to our surprise, avoided them.

The barman met us in his coffer-bar by adorable aroma of roasted black coffee he used to cook by the way only he knew well and simultaneously with the sounds of lovely music of love sang by one of the popular singer in our country in oriental melodic voice-“ Sargoshi, am I am am dam I am drank of the love, of the love, of the love- Tara dam dam da dam…

Alyk quickly jumped out of his room of utility carrying the tray with washed clean cups, and there were big tears in his black eyes rolling down his cheeks. The barman was very much sensitive to such songs about unhappy love…

Me and Paul embraced in the manner the Greeks dancing their famous Sirtaki and began circling around the bar counter, singing backup the popular singer-“ We are drank of the love. La la la,of the love, of the love…

Soon we were full of delight of drinking of well done black coffee and the barman was ready to give us our usual morning portion of pleasure -  a cup of hot coffee with small wine glass of Armenian cognac

and a small bar of chocolate- “We re drank of the love/ of the love , of the burning passion of love…

 

Such were the days of our pastime and there was no reason for complain.

But, of course, when examinations were to begin, we were losing a bit our valiant hussar’s valour… and with the third visitation tried to break through the trivial scholastic stereotypes of our respectable lecturers. But I should say we luckily passed the examinations, sometimes managed to do it even with the second visitation.

 

We had many interesting episodes in our student life, many of them have long time disappeared from my memory, but one had strictly and painfully printed in.

 

It so happened, that besides learning foreign languages and western literature which are now our constant occupation, we had to study as an additional subject, the Literature and Poetry of Ancient Greece andRome.

 

We were indignant and irritated very much. Why, we had to go through the hassle of learning sophisticated for understanding ancient verses of bearded Greek and Roman poets, coved with the sands of oblivion.

What on earth, we need to learn those complicated and abstruse lines by heart?

We screwed up our faces, our displeasure was great.  We considered ourselves to be real Anglomaniacs living, as we tried to imitate, the life of British “sybarites”.

We – the guys knowing very well how say love words in the language of footballer Bobby Charleton, we – there were no limits of our annoyance.

 

But it was Paul who made easier our disrespect to antic Roman verses and as for Greek mythology he and many of us were tolerant since the mythology was itself much easier and interesting in the childhood as compared with dull the Roman verses.

Paul cursed abominably in rough and coarse slang, and we all thanked him for he helped us to give way our emotions, having said bad words instead of us!

 

Though funny it was, but at first Greek and Latin literature everybody of students- free-thinkers were present.

I didn’t remember why, but I was there too. Paul was witting next to me smiling, talking and shinning like a spring rose.

He talked every time with his classmates, to girls in particular, to whom he felt never-ending passion, especially to those with black cherry liked eyes.

Probably, every student including me hoped to see a new venerable, hoary with age, lecturer, either man or woman that was not much important.

Everybody thought of a new lecturer to be the cleverest in the world as far as Greek and Latin poetry were concerned!

There was a joyful and cheerful atmosphere in the classroom despite of serious subject of study. That was simply explained by our young age when nobody thought about his future.

As soon as we saw in the doorways of the classroom the newcomer, all of us were shocked by what we had seen.

The New Greek and Latin literature lecturer had the very nice exotic appearance, which stroke us with her colorful degeneracy.

We saw the short, fat, native madam with weepy eyes, not every southern American boa had.

She glanced at us with dimmed gloomy eyes of marabou stork, shortly after it laid an egg successfully.

The big potato liked nose was a remarkable decoration attributed to her rare sex appeal.

And when that  a piece of nature work roared in low soprano her name which I in coming roar of students laughter, was not able to make out ( I managed to hear something sounding CHE ) and when that masterpiece of nature creation added she would teach us lines of complicated variants of Roman subtle style of verse, all of us went into ecstasies of laughter.

To our great surprise Che responded rather peacefully speaking to us in a good Russian pigeon language which increased our strange revelry.

 

-What’s up- Che pronounced as a good diligent Indian schoolgirl, torturing Russian language very much- Whyyy are youuu  laughing at? Why are youuuu so joyful at language courses?

 

We were not seen at that moment, because we were under our chairs.

I actually buried my eyes in my palms to escape of observing herHollywood’s movie star attraction.

 

-Wow, Hauo, Maou- Che began uttering strange for our ears sounds- Stooop yourrr laughterrr! Whyy youu were amazed by myyy name?- Che a roman intellectual  was surprised very much.

 

Gradually, with big efforts, we came to ourselves, and looked at Che with interest of her next actions.

Unfortunately, there were not any other eccentric tricks followed by, instead, what followed further, was of much trivial one.

When there was a bit of strained silence in the classroom.  Che attempted calling over the roll.

There were not class-journal of groups of students, as usual, and Che began calling roll by row of students.

 

Paul was a happy one sitting close to the desk of Che.

There was such a broad smile dancing on his cunning face that I thought he was the happiest man in our city enjoying this splendid performance of the introduction of a new lecturer.

 

-Wow, Howww, Maouu- Chew with her, probably casual way of meeting, addressed to Paul amicably – Stand up boy ( the classroom  uttered a groan of raising laughter thinking about the second part of the performance; stand up boy was excellent/ especially as far as it  was given to the “qualified sexologist” as Paul had been). 

- Stand up boy- Che repeated calmly again-What’ youuu nammmee?

Paul, after being ”returned” by Che into his already distant childhood, jump upright and suddenly all of us saw a cunning smile in his swamp color merry eyes.

He gallantly turned his head aside and uttered solemnly in a loud voice- My name is Padre Vaticano/ I am an Italian boy!

If I said everything was good in the classroom after Paul’s words I would be a lier.

We were paralyzed and looked at Che.

However, she reacted to the name of Italian boy calmly and without poor emotion, instead, she happily exclaimed – Wow! Maou, Paou- Howww interrresting – and wrote down Paul’s new stage name into her small notebook and went to the next student.

 

Next to Italian Paul was a pretty girl, many of our guys wanted to have her as girlfriend but failed. The pretty one preferred men elder than we were, and we often saw her in restaurants in the company of adult guys.

The girls stood up and said in a low beautiful voice that her name was Elizabeth Monroe and that she was a French girl.

What a comedy we saw!

However Che did not mention her foreign citizenship and wrote her down into her notorious notebook.

Then, after it, one Armenian, in born idler, introduced himself as Hussein  Aly Baba- an Iranian from the city ofMeshed.

We saw the monkey face of lecturer lighted up with satisfaction since Muslim religion was close to her-

-Very good! It is nice to meet you, dear Hussein!

Further, the avalanche of foreign names followed- Valery…. Sirano de Bradshaw and so on and forth….

 

When my turn began, I stood up at my desk and cordially introduced myself with sheer gallantry as guy from Toscana a neighbor and close friend of mister Padre Vaticano.

 

The rolling call had been marvelous one anyhow!

 

Our new Latin and Greek mythology lecturer had written down all foreign names of students into her scruffy notebook, reacting to foreign citizenship with a speed of tortoise.

 

But even the sweetest performance has its end! The bell rang and the comedy was over.

 

- Well – Paul grunted on the way to coffer-bar- I never seen such a lovely lesson in my life!

 

But what we met at the second round of our Greek and Roman adventure was not funny at all.

The Roman native lady flu into in the classroom in a wild rage as a mad donkey someone gave the injection of turpentine deeply into its anus.

She looked at us, sitting at our desks, with hatred and screamed sharply- Wow, Mou, Hou!

-Are youuu all pressenttt now!  I will showwww you all your foreign namessss- she shouted in a rage- I will give you all your foreign names! Everybody will be dancing when passing the examination!

 

- What is your real name- shouted Che goggling at Paul who was sitting unfortunately, at the first desk, anticipating with pleasure the continuation of the performance..

Paul did not expect such rough and brute attention to him and was scared with surprise!

He jump up to his short height and mattered shamefully- I am Brovkov/

-         Gaou/ Wouo-  Che yelled piercingly – What was the name you heel goat, told meee?  You told me your name was Padra Vaginata- Che was about to strike poor Paul against his head.

-No- Paul mumbled shamefully- I am Brovkov/ my father was Brovrov/ my grand father and grand grand….

-Shut up- Che jumped at him as a good karateka what was so much surprising taking into account her fat, low-profile bum.

- Go to the blackboard- Che was ready to kill poor Paul- You will be the first my victim. Tell me, you, ugly short  wether ram  what was happened during the second exile of Ovid to coast of far sea, you frustrated idiot!

 

Paul never heard before about that joyful Roman guy at all and it was natural, he said nothing standing as a silly swain near Che.

-         Get lost, you ignoramus idler- Che was on the verge of beating him - Bugger off to your shameful desk you, I don’t want to see you here a log ground squirrel  

 

Paul lowered his head, fearing of catching a kick into his ass, headed downcast for his desk.

 

Everyone had been at that blackboard that day, including me, and everyone had got his unsatisfactory mark!

All of us got that day second names as wretched rotten idlers.

 

 

-Wow- shouted Paul on our way to our coffee-bar,- I am afraid of we won’t not be able to skip through the claws of that native shark.

I was outraged shouting at him to shut up and cease of being a prophet. But it was late since I suddenly felt an icy coldness of Paul’s prophecy rolled down from the top of my head to my tailbone.

 

Roman lecturer Che made us to be silly monkeys.

 

She called us to go to the blackboard every lesson where she humbled us asking us about far forgotten verses of Roman poets.

Che was especially rude upon Paul and me, whereas the others felt a bit easier, since there were only two the most hatred victims of Roman native lady Che.

 

She put us unsatisfactory marks and seemed was proud very much of humiliating us. She did not want to hear our excuses in that she deliberately put us difficult questions and sometimes I catch myself on a thought whether she knew the subject herself. It seemed to me she was reading everything in study books herself. Though, I might be mistaken.

 

Time was passing by, but we were still unable to improve the situation in our favor.

Che passed near us in the corridor of the university as if we both had been nothing for her.

 

Thus, we could not improve our unsatisfactory marks in Greek and Roman literature.

We had already watched for numerous time the films of The Trojan wars and The Odyssey in the domain of darkness and antic heroes had already become our dear friends but not Roman poets who were absolutely unknown for us.

 

Due to our collapse with Roman poetry, we were deprived from university scholarship which aggravated our time drastically, since we had to go in unloading open freight cars with potatoes for we had to earn money to support our “sybarite British days”.

 

So we had no time to sit over the study books for Roman verses, and if we did that, then we would not have enough good time of drinking Arabica coffee in our famous coffee-bar.

 

Every time we were in bad mood, we rare smiled at our friends. More awful, we stopped courting girls and that was a dangerous sign of coming degradation.

 

Look- Paus exclaimed, sipping the cup of the coffee- What a rotten bitch Che  is!

Then he added the most curse words and dialectological phrases cursing Che by slang bad words.

I was in the state of   deep depression and spiritual despair, but nevertheless, found the forces to write down Paul’s new aphorism in order to enlarge my notion of the slang for future.

 

The failed examination had sagged over our heads like a big block of ice.

 

We, having lost the pride of “British sybarites” had to chase after Che and losing our pride actually begging of getting satisfactory marks as the two wretched homeless dogs asking for bare bone in the streets.                                     

 

But as for Che, she raised up to sky her hands like Siberian shamans and wrinkled her ugly spotty face we were ready to take for the divine image of goddess Artemis having Che got us the cherished long-suffering satisfactory mark for Roman verses, reprimanding cruelly- You two, both get lost/ I hate you very much. You go to the reading hall to learn Roman verses. You are full idlerssss Wow. Mow. Pauu.

 

What kind of sharp rebuff could we do? We were about to kill her…

 

And we had to faced our misfortune already after the forth visitation to Che.

 

She bared her yellow teeth in sarcastic killing smile telling us to visit again the reading hall in the university

 

Wow,Pau, Mau- these were not her exclamations but already ours.

We had already learnt Greek antic films by heart, but where we could find Roman verses?  Where we could find that dull scholastic study books?  All books were big and fat and we shuddered of the thought to open them and to sit all days in the stuffy reading rooms was beyond our strength.   

 

We had been in bad state of dismal mood and we saw no end of that bitter time of our hopelessness.

There was no happiness and unstrained revelry at out traditional coffee-bar parties.

The beloved cafe-bar became gloomy and not home-house for us. 

 

The unstrained mood was aggravated deeply by sad songs by Flora Kerimova the barman Alyk used to listen to regularly in the morning and the shinning sun in the window-glasses of the coffee-bar was not  able to stop our gloomy state of mind.

 

We felt distinctly that Life was not an easy thing!

 

We drank much wine and cursed both the dull and painful turns of the life. We had understood really all hassles of our days.

There was not any improvement in the state of things and each new day started resembling the past one.

 

We proposed one and the same toast cursing that rotten Wow, Auo,Paucreature that had made our young “ British sybarite” life unbearable.

“Oh Lord, please punish that rotten fat short legs Wow-Mau-Pau!

Lord, dear give us our long-awaited satisfactory mark!

 

But most probably, Lord was absent on some his business trip or may be He did not exist in the universe at all. That was proved by the medieval scientist Gallileo Galliley many centuries ago and Che had been actually a child of the Infusoria bacteria not a man!

 

Very often I watched Che in my nightmares. Che came to me in the long robe of the judge of peers and mercilessly passed me a death sentence or send me to galleys. I got up sweating and crying of horror and realized that nothing had changed for the better and felt spasms in my throat with choking cough.

Sometimes, but very seldom I had more happy dreams where Che, after distressful torturing, put me eventually my satisfactory mark.

 

The execution as it had been mentioned earlier lasted for a long period of time.

 

The new examinations which were to be decisive for admitting to the next course of studies at the university were approaching with the speed of express train.

 

Thus, if we would not pass that notorious Greek and Roman antic examination, we both, would not be permitted for the change examinations for removing to the next course of studies.

That might be a sheer catastrophe for us.

 

I can not recollect now but probably we both were the very miserable creatures to look at.

Many other friends and especially girls-friends did not understand what was happening with me and Paul. We ignored all but sitting for the whole days and evenings in the coffee-bar muttering and mumbling curious and strange prayers.

 

The burden of moral, physical and spiritual discomfort was aggravated drastically by the Tatar and Mongol terrible words by Che.

She had suddenly, contrary to all international rules of wars, declared us not to run after her in the corridors of the university and that she herself would tell us that happy day when she would give her consent to test our knowledge of her subject.

She “ killed us” once and for all!

For that last period of time I got thin strongly and was about to visit the madhouse for” serious consultations’”.

As for Paul, he had the appearance of a mummy and became much shorter than he had been.

 

 

  I asked my poor friend – Paul, what will we do? My glance was directed to nowhere into the coffee-bar.

- I don’t know – that was Paul’s reply. There were traces of shameful tears in our “ British syborate” eyes.

 

 But suddenly in one happy day, Che herself , stopped us in the long and dark corridor of the university and looking at us both, declared with utmost contempt that she was ready to test us but only for the last time.

 

We shouted “ Phuff! Wow< pau< Mauu and ran  quickly to the reading hall of our university library to inquire if they had any other study books to give us understanding of those rotten Greek and Roman antic verses.

 

 There were about thirty poor “student idlers”, as they were branded by Che, of some groups of our course of studies.

The lecturer asked us to sit down all at the last desks, whereas that, which was to pass the examination was to go to her table to answer her questions.

 

That was buried the last attempt to prompt to a miserable one appeared before her.

Che took out of her bag a cup and put it on the table near her, then she poured some tea into it out of kettle putting vapor of boiling and sipped the tea.

After this, she smiled sinister and said to us- I don’t care of your principle subjects you are to learn in your faculty/ but you should know  my Greek and Roman poetry by heart!

She never stopped sipping her tea and there was a grave silence in the classroom.

 

Everybody sat at his desk as if he was sitting on pins and needles.

All “ student idlers” listed the pages of the study books and looked through summary notes they got from other “diligent” students.

However Che as compared with us was in a very good mood, sipping her hot tea and looking at us with a sadist delight.

-         Wow,Pau, Mau- she shouted her ritual beginning – Who will be the first one to go to the blackboard?

 

Nobody wanted to be the first to test his last chance and there was still grave silence in the classroom.

 

Che noticed me and Paul among the others and “ attacked us shouting loudly- Hey You two! Why are you sitting in silence? I remember you were so noisy at my first coming by the way!

 

Dear readers, I believe you will understand me and Paul mood after such friendly greeting!

 

-Wow>Pau, Mau- Che was not going to stop teasing us – Well you thought about you as being men. Why are sitting now like country hens? Are you cowards?

Che was gravely teasing us- Who will go and retell meee, pau, mau the content of antic Odyssey?

 

Despite of being in the state as boxers say- the state of knockdown, I for all that realized that if I would not go and retell that sadist the content of my lovely movie, I would be a self-killer for after the Greek mythology Roman disgusting verses, were to follow, which to my mind were unknown not only for all of us, but probably for that Che herself.

May I- I did not say that- I simply muttered it but enough for Che to hear it.

-          

Che was surprised a bit and waved me with her hand.

 

I ran up to the blackboard to started to retell quickly the content of the movie I loved for the best.

 

Che was astonished at my right knowledge indeed, and turned to me in great surprise-Pau, May Wow- It seems to me you know some of antic mythology irrespective of your foreign citizenship. I can not now recollect who were you at my first lessons?

I was standing near her keeping dismal silence, my knees were trembling, I had  tachipnoe.

 

However, to my great relief, Che forgot the name of foreign country from which I came to her first Greek and Roman Poetry lesson and there was a monkey grimace of surprise on her face.

 

Che suddenly shouted again at me-Pau, Mau,  If you- idler know how I am personally tired of you/ To hell to you! I will put you satisfactory mark and get lost out of my sight for ever!

 

With these scornful insulting but sweet to hear words, she put me satisfactory mark into the journal of knowledge rating and turned her antic face away of me.

 

I ran back to my desk feeling a deep relief as if I had been fully recovered from a hard and dangerous mental disease I had ever had.

 

A sense of complete happiness filled my heart.  I was about to dance of relief.

 

Poor guy Paul was still living in the debris of dark Hell.  Poor fellow was sitting at the desk listing the study book, his swamp green eyes shinning wildly, he was howling quietly.

 

The next question in the list of questions made by sadist Che was the question about The Iliad.

 

I quickly whispered at Paul’s ear- Be quick/ Hurry up, we had watched the film about The Trojan Horse!

Go you fool or anyway somebody will pass ahead of you!!!

 

Paul jumped up and rushed as if scalded towards the blackboard without being invited by Che.

 

 It must be said that Che awaiting him with the gloating delight of ancient pterodactyl seeing the fresh meat

- Wow/Pau-she screamed in the classroom- Whom I see! The famous idler in the world! Mister Padra Vaginato as a visiting professor!

-No, no. no- Paul was mumbling quietly- I am Brovrov/ Brovrov…

 

- Are you really Brovrov? -  Che  tried to tease him in mocking tone- What are going to tell me now?

 

Paul paled and exited very much suddenly shouted in a loud voice- About the Iliad!

 

-No- Che screamed in response as if they wanted to contest in loud shouting – This is easy question/ You, pleaseee… pau, mau,  tell me what you know about the Ciceronian letters in the later period when Roman Poet Ovid was living far away fromRome?

 

I felt at my desk that ceiling crushed upon my head

 

- Ha, ha, ha – Paul shouted in unknown language even doesn’t distantly resemble his native speech!

Most probably, he wanted to reproduce the word “Yes”, but suddenly had resorted to the language of some small tribe living in the deep jungle of western coast ofAfrica.

 

- Oh!, yes, but I am not sure- Paul after he felt quick shock remembered his native words- It seems to me you are right teacher- he added, his face was as pale as a chalk.

-”

-Oh? no, It is not what you wanted to have- Che shouted hysterically and with quick reaction any oriental mullah attempting of doing circumcision would be proud of – This is the very easy task!  I know it- her eyes were as two gloomy eyes of a wild monitor lizard- You poor Russian old fox and good for nothing! You will now retell me about the vivid and prolific literary works of the great Roman poet Ovidl! 

 

 

 I was sitting at my desk, far from the place of execution and buried my face in my hands in horror.

 

- Wow- poor Paul screamed loudly and began stammering, his lips were trembling- Who-ooo?- he began whirling around  the Che’s table imitating child playing hide- and- seek-  Who is he?

” Che was furious- Why you don’t know him? If you will now not remember him I will kick your ass out of the room!

- Stop circling around me, wretched blockhead idler!

 

Sinister silence came into the room. We heard distinctly a fly buzzing near the ceiling.

 

I sat being prostrated very much and watched Paul’s running tricks in despair.

 

-Sit down- Che screamed resonantly at Paul pointing him a chair across her.

 

Poor Paul plopped into the chair, his back was directed to us.

I watched desperately the Paul’s stooped back.

 

- What was written in the letters of Ciceron- Che stared at Paul impatiently, forgot about Ovid.

 

Just after this yell, Paul suddenly, sharply, turned back to me sitting far away in “Alaska”.

 

“-Oh, my Lord! What were his eyes!”

 

 I saw naturally the whole field of horror in them as if the shears of a headman were already close to his balls

I realized him perished and guessed he tried to send me a distress call “Save Our Souls”.

 

But how could I help  him?

 

 There was a great distance between us, and Roman brilliant antic poet Ovid and a notorious Ciceron had been as dark for me as the moonless night and I was not sure if Che knew them both personally!

 

Che was filled with indignation shouting at Paul- Mau/ Wau!  Why you idler are turning your short bum to those who do no know at all !

 

They do not know Ovid themselves I am sure there are only sexy games in their heads.

 

“Wow”- I was surprised where she knew that latent desires many of us had in mind but not now at the execution by Greek and Roman poets.

 

- Hey – you  Brovkov former Padra Vaginato Che could say his pseudo name in a right way.

If you will not stop your shameful turning back every time I ask you, I’ll kick you off the room. Is it clear for you?

 

Poor Paul shuddering and stammering turned his face to his headman and began muttering something to my surprise, answering her questions.

Che furiously put one question after the other and the last was harder the previous one.

 

After each question poor Paul turned back to me , al the time, irrespective to be sent away off the classroom.

 

-I am telling you for the last timeeeee- pau mau, wau- Che stared at Paul with the wild eyes of a desert monitor lizard- Stop circling around your back and answer me….

 

The situation began to be the tragic one!

 

Poor Paul desperately hanged on for his dear life using his strong will and fragments of knowledge of Roman poetry which was surprising for very much for I personally hadn’t any idea of Ovid.

 

It  wasn’t a sport there but “murdering”.  

 

Suddenly, I felt the attack of Homeric laughter on me.

Such symptoms are broadly described in medical literature.

The people have however, more distinct determination:” as his nerves were ruined by strained situation and he lost control over him completely”.

I was fun with the panorama of Paul’s turning back after every question neglecting of being kicked into his ass.

I began already chuckling loudly in the classroom and could not stop it.

 

Che noticed my nervous fits and shouted at me ordering to leave the classroom quickly.

 

I was lucky for passing the last examination and that was the definition of my behavior.

 Of course, I took pity for Paul but I could not stop my hysteric laughter.

It was a terrible reaction on my own rescue.  

 

 I ran out the classroom in to the corridor. I fell down the chairs suffocating of a wild laughter. The people around me thought I got mad.

 

Soon the door of the classroom was opened and Paul came into the corridor of university as if he left his burial tomb.

Having seen him I stopped my silly laughter but was still coughing and hiccupping.

-         Why are laughing so wildly- grunted Paul gloomily and unfriendly.

What made you so fun- he said with the indignation.

I was scared to see him and asked him with agitation- Have you passed through her?

Paul gave me a long and serious glance under which I felt some coldness in my body and screamed furiously into the corridor- Yes, yes – I have passed that rotten native ugly, round faced bitch.

The people jumped up into the corridor out of neighboring rooms to see what was the noise and shouts in the corridor.

Paul paid no attention to them in wild oriental dancing, shouting loudly- I have passed that examination/ It is my victory now/

 

I saw his eyes of the British Syborate again.

 

-I have passed through the darkness debris of that rotten Roman Poetry.

These were his solemn words in the university corridor

 

We embraced and kissed each other tight and ran as fast as our legs could carry us to our beloved coffee-bar.

 

And now in the streets, Paul himself was screaming loudly sharing with the friends we met with his deserved happiness!

When we were already approached the doors of the coffee-bar, he stopped for a while and exclaimed joyfully- Hey haven’t you noticed that Che had an attractive oriental face- he made a mysterious pause then added- It was strange we hadn’t seen that before!

I said to him readily- Dear Paul, I agree with you fully. We were lucky ones to have a chance to watch a real copy of Aphrodite.

And with that victorious laughter we came in.

P/S:

How could Paul pass the Greek and Roman Poetry examination was left as his own secret?

 I did not insist on him to disclose me that and Paul himself was keeping silence.

But there was my suspicion on him that he, at deep nights, had stealthily had read the study book of Roman Poetry without informing me.  That was his little betrayal to our “British Syborites Life” principles.

And I remembered a situation at wars I read in one military book- “lower your head close to the ground and bullets would exactly fly high above your body!

Let it be laid heavily on conscious of Paul and that native Roman lecturer Che.

 Oh, Wow.Pau, Mau!

 

After the successful graduation from the university we had different roads in life.

Being quite an adult man, I left our lovely sunny land and removed to live to the northern cold country and lost all connection with Paul.

Some years ago I by a mere chance learned about his death. That bad news pressed me in a deep sorrow for him because I loved very much.

Poor Paul, may you on the heavens have all you want, and I will be remembering you until being alive.

Dear Paul- my best friend in my youth- a remarkable Padre Vaticano!

 

Gregory Trigger, 2003.Moscow.

 

 

 

                                                                Paul

 

When I was a student and had been a happy and joyful young man, I had the friend Paul Brovkov.

He was an awfully funny guy. You may consider by yourself: he was a short young fellow about 163 sm in height. His green narrow eyes were of swamp color; his nose was always reddish due to his lovely liking for drinking. And if manners and way of speaking in local specific dialect together with his incredible passion for Asian girls mostly are added to his characteristic features, then his appearance will be shown in all his beauty!

But there were also some positive features in Paul’s resume. Paul was a clever guy from his birth, keen-witted, talkative, cheerful and happy-go-lucky man. And besides, he was very good in English which was strange as it had been compared with all mentioned before.  Those people who did not know Paul could not take him as an English man at all, since they thought and were absolutely right, he was a real Russian rake.

They thought it was thank God Paul had some good character features,  but ,most probably, God had drank some wine himself and made those unpleasant mistakes I have said above.

Frankly saying, as I now remember, Paul was often in difficulty in getting public recognition.

Mostly, girls did not like him and for reasons only they knew.

As for Paul, he adored girls very much and often tried to talk with them on all every topics even considering the most serious and painful sex interconnection.

But as during his fixed monologues girls heard something clinking in his student bag ( Paul held there the glass and small bottle of wine every time) they refused of hearing his scholastic conclusions of early free love between younger generation and asked him to get out from the student hostel.

Paul was not upset somehow and removed to another student housel where girls had not yet heard his speeches of a great sexologist.

 

We both liked in that happy days of our student life to sit for all time at our friends get-together parties where we were laughing, speaking loudly, listening to the music we liked for the best, making noise and behaved ourselves strictly as all young people used to.  And as natural, we drank as much white and red wines we could afford to, proposing silly toasts for never ending youth!

Paul had been splendid himself as the heart and soul of every jolly crowd!

He stood upright for his “napoleon’ height keeping tight the glass of wine in his hand advancing his hit of motto-: “May this glass of wine be not the last one!” And it was impossible not to admire at him at that moment!

All of us jumped up as on command, shouting at the top of our voices that we were absolutely agreed with him and support his historical slogan!  

 

Paul was a very nice and “interesting” guy; I liked him from the very first glance when we met each other right after all of us had gathered in the university classroom for attending our first lecture at the university. I said I liked Paul and we became close friends from scratch.

Here I must do some lyrical remarks anyway it might be not earnest for Paul.

I was a real truant and idler myself, and we both were full-fledged slackers – the original duet of idlers belonging to it’s the most unattractive rank- the intellectual idlers!

We could due to our “inner latent talents” to truant dull and tedious lectures and routine seminars habitually and voluntary but afterwards for one night prepare the missed subject and answer it rather satisfactorily getting a good mark.

We could do it, but our respectable lecturers had been positively disagreed with our passing examination without attending casual lectures and seminars.

Thrеrеfore, our innovatory method of studies was not admitted by the sub-department of our faculty.

Certainly, we were not lucky ones in our fight for our method and often failed fully.

 I recollect now, when writing these lines, the time of our studies at the university and to my great adult surprise recognize that it was distressful for me to get up early in the morning to go to lectures.

I remember how I had been annoyed and grinding my teeth because of unwillingness to be given lectures so early in the morning. I considered naively I had already become a clever one since we had already passed the Rubicon after two years of studies at the university.

I must confess it was really hard for me to attend dull lectures in the morning, but nevertheless I had to go to.

I was taking bus not fully getting up and thought with relief that as soon as I got the main entrance of the university I would meet without doubt my classmate Paul who was awaiting me there  as usual.

My feeling depended fully upon the time of the season and I would feel miserable if I would miss a good chance to truant lecture and visit our beloved and, very much popular among the students, coffer bar where me and Paul were frequent customers.

 

We never waste out time to stand any longer at the main entrance of the university and went directly to famous coffer-bar readily.

Usually me, or Paul said lazily and somehow indifferently suggesting to ignore unnecessary, bothered dull seminars and to go and have a good time in the coffer-bar.

There was never objection and, we ran quickly with loud and happy laughter to the pace of our usual entertainment.

 

We were met in the doorways of the coffer-bar by Alyk- barman-immigrant who knew many oriental jokes and proverbs and vulgar funny stories.

The barman Alyk could prank for the whole day of working, slinging the bat language as he had been a

Foreigner arrived in as an immigrant.

Curiously it  was, that Alyk began speaking our language with curse words at first. We realized somebody taught him slang and bad language for the sake of humor but Alyk remembered them for best and used them in situations when they were right and, very often, in cases they were fully senseless. But Alyk eventually had learned that curse words were not to be heard by girls and to our surprise, avoided them.

The barman met us in his coffer-bar by adorable aroma of roasted black coffee he used to cook by the way only he knew well and simultaneously with the sounds of lovely music of love sang by one of the popular singer in our country in oriental melodic voice-“ Sargoshi, am I am am dam I am drank of the love, of the love, of the love- Tara dam dam da dam…

Alyk quickly jumped out of his room of utility carrying the tray with washed clean cups, and there were big tears in his black eyes rolling down his cheeks. The barman was very much sensitive to such songs about unhappy love…

Me and Paul embraced in the manner the Greeks dancing their famous Sirtaki and began circling around the bar counter, singing backup the popular singer-“ We are drank of the love. La la la,of the love, of the love…

Soon we were full of delight of drinking of well done black coffee and the barman was ready to give us our usual morning portion of pleasure -  a cup of hot coffee with small wine glass of Armenian cognac

and a small bar of chocolate- “We re drank of the love/ of the love , of the burning passion of love…

 

Such were the days of our pastime and there was no reason for complain.

But, of course, when examinations were to begin, we were losing a bit our valiant hussar’s valour… and with the third visitation tried to break through the trivial scholastic stereotypes of our respectable lecturers. But I should say we luckily passed the examinations, sometimes managed to do it even with the second visitation.

 

We had many interesting episodes in our student life, many of them have long time disappeared from my memory, but one had strictly and painfully printed in.

 

It so happened, that besides learning foreign languages and western literature which are now our constant occupation, we had to study as an additional subject, the Literature and Poetry of Ancient Greece andRome.

 

We were indignant and irritated very much. Why, we had to go through the hassle of learning sophisticated for understanding ancient verses of bearded Greek and Roman poets, coved with the sands of oblivion.

What on earth, we need to learn those complicated and abstruse lines by heart?

We screwed up our faces, our displeasure was great.  We considered ourselves to be real Anglomaniacs living, as we tried to imitate, the life of British “sybarites”.

We – the guys knowing very well how say love words in the language of footballer Bobby Charleton, we – there were no limits of our annoyance.

 

But it was Paul who made easier our disrespect to antic Roman verses and as for Greek mythology he and many of us were tolerant since the mythology was itself much easier and interesting in the childhood as compared with dull the Roman verses.

Paul cursed abominably in rough and coarse slang, and we all thanked him for he helped us to give way our emotions, having said bad words instead of us!

 

Though funny it was, but at first Greek and Latin literature everybody of students- free-thinkers were present.

I didn’t remember why, but I was there too. Paul was witting next to me smiling, talking and shinning like a spring rose.

He talked every time with his classmates, to girls in particular, to whom he felt never-ending passion, especially to those with black cherry liked eyes.

Probably, every student including me hoped to see a new venerable, hoary with age, lecturer, either man or woman that was not much important.

Everybody thought of a new lecturer to be the cleverest in the world as far as Greek and Latin poetry were concerned!

There was a joyful and cheerful atmosphere in the classroom despite of serious subject of study. That was simply explained by our young age when nobody thought about his future.

As soon as we saw in the doorways of the classroom the newcomer, all of us were shocked by what we had seen.

The New Greek and Latin literature lecturer had the very nice exotic appearance, which stroke us with her colorful degeneracy.

We saw the short, fat, native madam with weepy eyes, not every southern American boa had.

She glanced at us with dimmed gloomy eyes of marabou stork, shortly after it laid an egg successfully.

The big potato liked nose was a remarkable decoration attributed to her rare sex appeal.

And when that  a piece of nature work roared in low soprano her name which I in coming roar of students laughter, was not able to make out ( I managed to hear something sounding CHE ) and when that masterpiece of nature creation added she would teach us lines of complicated variants of Roman subtle style of verse, all of us went into ecstasies of laughter.

To our great surprise Che responded rather peacefully speaking to us in a good Russian pigeon language which increased our strange revelry.

 

-What’s up- Che pronounced as a good diligent Indian schoolgirl, torturing Russian language very much- Whyyy are youuu  laughing at? Why are youuuu so joyful at language courses?

 

We were not seen at that moment, because we were under our chairs.

I actually buried my eyes in my palms to escape of observing herHollywood’s movie star attraction.

 

-Wow, Hauo, Maou- Che began uttering strange for our ears sounds- Stooop yourrr laughterrr! Whyy youu were amazed by myyy name?- Che a roman intellectual  was surprised very much.

 

Gradually, with big efforts, we came to ourselves, and looked at Che with interest of her next actions.

Unfortunately, there were not any other eccentric tricks followed by, instead, what followed further, was of much trivial one.

When there was a bit of strained silence in the classroom.  Che attempted calling over the roll.

There were not class-journal of groups of students, as usual, and Che began calling roll by row of students.

 

Paul was a happy one sitting close to the desk of Che.

There was such a broad smile dancing on his cunning face that I thought he was the happiest man in our city enjoying this splendid performance of the introduction of a new lecturer.

 

-Wow, Howww, Maouu- Chew with her, probably casual way of meeting, addressed to Paul amicably – Stand up boy ( the classroom  uttered a groan of raising laughter thinking about the second part of the performance; stand up boy was excellent/ especially as far as it  was given to the “qualified sexologist” as Paul had been). 

- Stand up boy- Che repeated calmly again-What’ youuu nammmee?

Paul, after being ”returned” by Che into his already distant childhood, jump upright and suddenly all of us saw a cunning smile in his swamp color merry eyes.

He gallantly turned his head aside and uttered solemnly in a loud voice- My name is Padre Vaticano/ I am an Italian boy!

If I said everything was good in the classroom after Paul’s words I would be a lier.

We were paralyzed and looked at Che.

However, she reacted to the name of Italian boy calmly and without poor emotion, instead, she happily exclaimed – Wow! Maou, Paou- Howww interrresting – and wrote down Paul’s new stage name into her small notebook and went to the next student.

 

Next to Italian Paul was a pretty girl, many of our guys wanted to have her as girlfriend but failed. The pretty one preferred men elder than we were, and we often saw her in restaurants in the company of adult guys.

The girls stood up and said in a low beautiful voice that her name was Elizabeth Monroe and that she was a French girl.

What a comedy we saw!

However Che did not mention her foreign citizenship and wrote her down into her notorious notebook.

Then, after it, one Armenian, in born idler, introduced himself as Hussein  Aly Baba- an Iranian from the city ofMeshed.

We saw the monkey face of lecturer lighted up with satisfaction since Muslim religion was close to her-

-Very good! It is nice to meet you, dear Hussein!

Further, the avalanche of foreign names followed- Valery…. Sirano de Bradshaw and so on and forth….

 

When my turn began, I stood up at my desk and cordially introduced myself with sheer gallantry as guy from Toscana a neighbor and close friend of mister Padre Vaticano.

 

The rolling call had been marvelous one anyhow!

 

Our new Latin and Greek mythology lecturer had written down all foreign names of students into her scruffy notebook, reacting to foreign citizenship with a speed of tortoise.

 

But even the sweetest performance has its end! The bell rang and the comedy was over.

 

- Well – Paul grunted on the way to coffer-bar- I never seen such a lovely lesson in my life!

 

But what we met at the second round of our Greek and Roman adventure was not funny at all.

The Roman native lady flu into in the classroom in a wild rage as a mad donkey someone gave the injection of turpentine deeply into its anus.

She looked at us, sitting at our desks, with hatred and screamed sharply- Wow, Mou, Hou!

-Are youuu all pressenttt now!  I will showwww you all your foreign namessss- she shouted in a rage- I will give you all your foreign names! Everybody will be dancing when passing the examination!

 

- What is your real name- shouted Che goggling at Paul who was sitting unfortunately, at the first desk, anticipating with pleasure the continuation of the performance..

Paul did not expect such rough and brute attention to him and was scared with surprise!

He jump up to his short height and mattered shamefully- I am Brovkov/

-         Gaou/ Wouo-  Che yelled piercingly – What was the name you heel goat, told meee?  You told me your name was Padra Vaginata- Che was about to strike poor Paul against his head.

-No- Paul mumbled shamefully- I am Brovkov/ my father was Brovrov/ my grand father and grand grand….

-Shut up- Che jumped at him as a good karateka what was so much surprising taking into account her fat, low-profile bum.

- Go to the blackboard- Che was ready to kill poor Paul- You will be the first my victim. Tell me, you, ugly short  wether ram  what was happened during the second exile of Ovid to coast of far sea, you frustrated idiot!

 

Paul never heard before about that joyful Roman guy at all and it was natural, he said nothing standing as a silly swain near Che.

-         Get lost, you ignoramus idler- Che was on the verge of beating him - Bugger off to your shameful desk you, I don’t want to see you here a log ground squirrel  

 

Paul lowered his head, fearing of catching a kick into his ass, headed downcast for his desk.

 

Everyone had been at that blackboard that day, including me, and everyone had got his unsatisfactory mark!

All of us got that day second names as wretched rotten idlers.

 

 

-Wow- shouted Paul on our way to our coffee-bar,- I am afraid of we won’t not be able to skip through the claws of that native shark.

I was outraged shouting at him to shut up and cease of being a prophet. But it was late since I suddenly felt an icy coldness of Paul’s prophecy rolled down from the top of my head to my tailbone.

 

Roman lecturer Che made us to be silly monkeys.

 

She called us to go to the blackboard every lesson where she humbled us asking us about far forgotten verses of Roman poets.

Che was especially rude upon Paul and me, whereas the others felt a bit easier, since there were only two the most hatred victims of Roman native lady Che.

 

She put us unsatisfactory marks and seemed was proud very much of humiliating us. She did not want to hear our excuses in that she deliberately put us difficult questions and sometimes I catch myself on a thought whether she knew the subject herself. It seemed to me she was reading everything in study books herself. Though, I might be mistaken.

 

Time was passing by, but we were still unable to improve the situation in our favor.

Che passed near us in the corridor of the university as if we both had been nothing for her.

 

Thus, we could not improve our unsatisfactory marks in Greek and Roman literature.

We had already watched for numerous time the films of The Trojan wars and The Odyssey in the domain of darkness and antic heroes had already become our dear friends but not Roman poets who were absolutely unknown for us.

 

Due to our collapse with Roman poetry, we were deprived from university scholarship which aggravated our time drastically, since we had to go in unloading open freight cars with potatoes for we had to earn money to support our “sybarite British days”.

 

So we had no time to sit over the study books for Roman verses, and if we did that, then we would not have enough good time of drinking Arabica coffee in our famous coffee-bar.

 

Every time we were in bad mood, we rare smiled at our friends. More awful, we stopped courting girls and that was a dangerous sign of coming degradation.

 

Look- Paus exclaimed, sipping the cup of the coffee- What a rotten bitch Che  is!

Then he added the most curse words and dialectological phrases cursing Che by slang bad words.

I was in the state of   deep depression and spiritual despair, but nevertheless, found the forces to write down Paul’s new aphorism in order to enlarge my notion of the slang for future.

 

The failed examination had sagged over our heads like a big block of ice.

 

We, having lost the pride of “British sybarites” had to chase after Che and losing our pride actually begging of getting satisfactory marks as the two wretched homeless dogs asking for bare bone in the streets.                                     

 

But as for Che, she raised up to sky her hands like Siberian shamans and wrinkled her ugly spotty face we were ready to take for the divine image of goddess Artemis having Che got us the cherished long-suffering satisfactory mark for Roman verses, reprimanding cruelly- You two, both get lost/ I hate you very much. You go to the reading hall to learn Roman verses. You are full idlerssss Wow. Mow. Pauu.

 

What kind of sharp rebuff could we do? We were about to kill her…

 

And we had to faced our misfortune already after the forth visitation to Che.

 

She bared her yellow teeth in sarcastic killing smile telling us to visit again the reading hall in the university

 

Wow,Pau, Mau- these were not her exclamations but already ours.

We had already learnt Greek antic films by heart, but where we could find Roman verses?  Where we could find that dull scholastic study books?  All books were big and fat and we shuddered of the thought to open them and to sit all days in the stuffy reading rooms was beyond our strength.   

 

We had been in bad state of dismal mood and we saw no end of that bitter time of our hopelessness.

There was no happiness and unstrained revelry at out traditional coffee-bar parties.

The beloved cafe-bar became gloomy and not home-house for us. 

 

The unstrained mood was aggravated deeply by sad songs by Flora Kerimova the barman Alyk used to listen to regularly in the morning and the shinning sun in the window-glasses of the coffee-bar was not  able to stop our gloomy state of mind.

 

We felt distinctly that Life was not an easy thing!

 

We drank much wine and cursed both the dull and painful turns of the life. We had understood really all hassles of our days.

There was not any improvement in the state of things and each new day started resembling the past one.

 

We proposed one and the same toast cursing that rotten Wow, Auo,Paucreature that had made our young “ British sybarite” life unbearable.

“Oh Lord, please punish that rotten fat short legs Wow-Mau-Pau!

Lord, dear give us our long-awaited satisfactory mark!

 

But most probably, Lord was absent on some his business trip or may be He did not exist in the universe at all. That was proved by the medieval scientist Gallileo Galliley many centuries ago and Che had been actually a child of the Infusoria bacteria not a man!

 

Very often I watched Che in my nightmares. Che came to me in the long robe of the judge of peers and mercilessly passed me a death sentence or send me to galleys. I got up sweating and crying of horror and realized that nothing had changed for the better and felt spasms in my throat with choking cough.

Sometimes, but very seldom I had more happy dreams where Che, after distressful torturing, put me eventually my satisfactory mark.

 

The execution as it had been mentioned earlier lasted for a long period of time.

 

The new examinations which were to be decisive for admitting to the next course of studies at the university were approaching with the speed of express train.

 

Thus, if we would not pass that notorious Greek and Roman antic examination, we both, would not be permitted for the change examinations for removing to the next course of studies.

That might be a sheer catastrophe for us.

 

I can not recollect now but probably we both were the very miserable creatures to look at.

Many other friends and especially girls-friends did not understand what was happening with me and Paul. We ignored all but sitting for the whole days and evenings in the coffee-bar muttering and mumbling curious and strange prayers.

 

The burden of moral, physical and spiritual discomfort was aggravated drastically by the Tatar and Mongol terrible words by Che.

She had suddenly, contrary to all international rules of wars, declared us not to run after her in the corridors of the university and that she herself would tell us that happy day when she would give her consent to test our knowledge of her subject.

She “ killed us” once and for all!

For that last period of time I got thin strongly and was about to visit the madhouse for” serious consultations’”.

As for Paul, he had the appearance of a mummy and became much shorter than he had been.

 

 

  I asked my poor friend – Paul, what will we do? My glance was directed to nowhere into the coffee-bar.

- I don’t know – that was Paul’s reply. There were traces of shameful tears in our “ British syborate” eyes.

 

 But suddenly in one happy day, Che herself , stopped us in the long and dark corridor of the university and looking at us both, declared with utmost contempt that she was ready to test us but only for the last time.

 

We shouted “ Phuff! Wow< pau< Mauu and ran  quickly to the reading hall of our university library to inquire if they had any other study books to give us understanding of those rotten Greek and Roman antic verses.

 

 There were about thirty poor “student idlers”, as they were branded by Che, of some groups of our course of studies.

The lecturer asked us to sit down all at the last desks, whereas that, which was to pass the examination was to go to her table to answer her questions.

 

That was buried the last attempt to prompt to a miserable one appeared before her.

Che took out of her bag a cup and put it on the table near her, then she poured some tea into it out of kettle putting vapor of boiling and sipped the tea.

After this, she smiled sinister and said to us- I don’t care of your principle subjects you are to learn in your faculty/ but you should know  my Greek and Roman poetry by heart!

She never stopped sipping her tea and there was a grave silence in the classroom.

 

Everybody sat at his desk as if he was sitting on pins and needles.

All “ student idlers” listed the pages of the study books and looked through summary notes they got from other “diligent” students.

However Che as compared with us was in a very good mood, sipping her hot tea and looking at us with a sadist delight.

-         Wow,Pau, Mau- she shouted her ritual beginning – Who will be the first one to go to the blackboard?

 

Nobody wanted to be the first to test his last chance and there was still grave silence in the classroom.

 

Che noticed me and Paul among the others and “ attacked us shouting loudly- Hey You two! Why are you sitting in silence? I remember you were so noisy at my first coming by the way!

 

Dear readers, I believe you will understand me and Paul mood after such friendly greeting!

 

-Wow>Pau, Mau- Che was not going to stop teasing us – Well you thought about you as being men. Why are sitting now like country hens? Are you cowards?

Che was gravely teasing us- Who will go and retell meee, pau, mau the content of antic Odyssey?

 

Despite of being in the state as boxers say- the state of knockdown, I for all that realized that if I would not go and retell that sadist the content of my lovely movie, I would be a self-killer for after the Greek mythology Roman disgusting verses, were to follow, which to my mind were unknown not only for all of us, but probably for that Che herself.

May I- I did not say that- I simply muttered it but enough for Che to hear it.

-          

Che was surprised a bit and waved me with her hand.

 

I ran up to the blackboard to started to retell quickly the content of the movie I loved for the best.

 

Che was astonished at my right knowledge indeed, and turned to me in great surprise-Pau, May Wow- It seems to me you know some of antic mythology irrespective of your foreign citizenship. I can not now recollect who were you at my first lessons?

I was standing near her keeping dismal silence, my knees were trembling, I had  tachipnoe.

 

However, to my great relief, Che forgot the name of foreign country from which I came to her first Greek and Roman Poetry lesson and there was a monkey grimace of surprise on her face.

 

Che suddenly shouted again at me-Pau, Mau,  If you- idler know how I am personally tired of you/ To hell to you! I will put you satisfactory mark and get lost out of my sight for ever!

 

With these scornful insulting but sweet to hear words, she put me satisfactory mark into the journal of knowledge rating and turned her antic face away of me.

 

I ran back to my desk feeling a deep relief as if I had been fully recovered from a hard and dangerous mental disease I had ever had.

 

A sense of complete happiness filled my heart.  I was about to dance of relief.

 

Poor guy Paul was still living in the debris of dark Hell.  Poor fellow was sitting at the desk listing the study book, his swamp green eyes shinning wildly, he was howling quietly.

 

The next question in the list of questions made by sadist Che was the question about The Iliad.

 

I quickly whispered at Paul’s ear- Be quick/ Hurry up, we had watched the film about The Trojan Horse!

Go you fool or anyway somebody will pass ahead of you!!!

 

Paul jumped up and rushed as if scalded towards the blackboard without being invited by Che.

 

 It must be said that Che awaiting him with the gloating delight of ancient pterodactyl seeing the fresh meat

- Wow/Pau-she screamed in the classroom- Whom I see! The famous idler in the world! Mister Padra Vaginato as a visiting professor!

-No, no. no- Paul was mumbling quietly- I am Brovrov/ Brovrov…

 

- Are you really Brovrov? -  Che  tried to tease him in mocking tone- What are going to tell me now?

 

Paul paled and exited very much suddenly shouted in a loud voice- About the Iliad!

 

-No- Che screamed in response as if they wanted to contest in loud shouting – This is easy question/ You, pleaseee… pau, mau,  tell me what you know about the Ciceronian letters in the later period when Roman Poet Ovid was living far away fromRome?

 

I felt at my desk that ceiling crushed upon my head

 

- Ha, ha, ha – Paul shouted in unknown language even doesn’t distantly resemble his native speech!

Most probably, he wanted to reproduce the word “Yes”, but suddenly had resorted to the language of some small tribe living in the deep jungle of western coast ofAfrica.

 

- Oh!, yes, but I am not sure- Paul after he felt quick shock remembered his native words- It seems to me you are right teacher- he added, his face was as pale as a chalk.

-”

-Oh? no, It is not what you wanted to have- Che shouted hysterically and with quick reaction any oriental mullah attempting of doing circumcision would be proud of – This is the very easy task!  I know it- her eyes were as two gloomy eyes of a wild monitor lizard- You poor Russian old fox and good for nothing! You will now retell me about the vivid and prolific literary works of the great Roman poet Ovidl! 

 

 

 I was sitting at my desk, far from the place of execution and buried my face in my hands in horror.

 

- Wow- poor Paul screamed loudly and began stammering, his lips were trembling- Who-ooo?- he began whirling around  the Che’s table imitating child playing hide- and- seek-  Who is he?

” Che was furious- Why you don’t know him? If you will now not remember him I will kick your ass out of the room!

- Stop circling around me, wretched blockhead idler!

 

Sinister silence came into the room. We heard distinctly a fly buzzing near the ceiling.

 

I sat being prostrated very much and watched Paul’s running tricks in despair.

 

-Sit down- Che screamed resonantly at Paul pointing him a chair across her.

 

Poor Paul plopped into the chair, his back was directed to us.

I watched desperately the Paul’s stooped back.

 

- What was written in the letters of Ciceron- Che stared at Paul impatiently, forgot about Ovid.

 

Just after this yell, Paul suddenly, sharply, turned back to me sitting far away in “Alaska”.

 

“-Oh, my Lord! What were his eyes!”

 

 I saw naturally the whole field of horror in them as if the shears of a headman were already close to his balls

I realized him perished and guessed he tried to send me a distress call “Save Our Souls”.

 

But how could I help  him?

 

 There was a great distance between us, and Roman brilliant antic poet Ovid and a notorious Ciceron had been as dark for me as the moonless night and I was not sure if Che knew them both personally!

 

Che was filled with indignation shouting at Paul- Mau/ Wau!  Why you idler are turning your short bum to those who do no know at all !

 

They do not know Ovid themselves I am sure there are only sexy games in their heads.

 

“Wow”- I was surprised where she knew that latent desires many of us had in mind but not now at the execution by Greek and Roman poets.

 

- Hey – you  Brovkov former Padra Vaginato Che could say his pseudo name in a right way.

If you will not stop your shameful turning back every time I ask you, I’ll kick you off the room. Is it clear for you?

 

Poor Paul shuddering and stammering turned his face to his headman and began muttering something to my surprise, answering her questions.

Che furiously put one question after the other and the last was harder the previous one.

 

After each question poor Paul turned back to me , al the time, irrespective to be sent away off the classroom.

 

-I am telling you for the last timeeeee- pau mau, wau- Che stared at Paul with the wild eyes of a desert monitor lizard- Stop circling around your back and answer me….

 

The situation began to be the tragic one!

 

Poor Paul desperately hanged on for his dear life using his strong will and fragments of knowledge of Roman poetry which was surprising for very much for I personally hadn’t any idea of Ovid.

 

It  wasn’t a sport there but “murdering”.  

 

Suddenly, I felt the attack of Homeric laughter on me.

Such symptoms are broadly described in medical literature.

The people have however, more distinct determination:” as his nerves were ruined by strained situation and he lost control over him completely”.

I was fun with the panorama of Paul’s turning back after every question neglecting of being kicked into his ass.

I began already chuckling loudly in the classroom and could not stop it.

 

Che noticed my nervous fits and shouted at me ordering to leave the classroom quickly.

 

I was lucky for passing the last examination and that was the definition of my behavior.

 Of course, I took pity for Paul but I could not stop my hysteric laughter.

It was a terrible reaction on my own rescue.  

 

 I ran out the classroom in to the corridor. I fell down the chairs suffocating of a wild laughter. The people around me thought I got mad.

 

Soon the door of the classroom was opened and Paul came into the corridor of university as if he left his burial tomb.

Having seen him I stopped my silly laughter but was still coughing and hiccupping.

-         Why are laughing so wildly- grunted Paul gloomily and unfriendly.

What made you so fun- he said with the indignation.

I was scared to see him and asked him with agitation- Have you passed through her?

Paul gave me a long and serious glance under which I felt some coldness in my body and screamed furiously into the corridor- Yes, yes – I have passed that rotten native ugly, round faced bitch.

The people jumped up into the corridor out of neighboring rooms to see what was the noise and shouts in the corridor.

Paul paid no attention to them in wild oriental dancing, shouting loudly- I have passed that examination/ It is my victory now/

 

I saw his eyes of the British Syborate again.

 

-I have passed through the darkness debris of that rotten Roman Poetry.

These were his solemn words in the university corridor

 

We embraced and kissed each other tight and ran as fast as our legs could carry us to our beloved coffee-bar.

 

And now in the streets, Paul himself was screaming loudly sharing with the friends we met with his deserved happiness!

When we already approached the doors of the coffee-bar, he stopped for a while and exclaimed joyfully- Hey haven’t you noticed that Che had an attractive oriental face- he made a mysterious pause then added- It was strange we hadn’t seen that before!

I said to him readily- Dear Paul, I agree with you fully. We were lucky ones to have a chance to watch a real copy of Aphrodite.

And with that victorious laughter we came in.

P/S:

How could Paul pass the Greek and Roman Poetry examination was left as his own secret?

 I did not insist on him to disclose me that and Paul himself was keeping silence.

But there was my suspicion on him that he, at deep nights, had stealthily had read the study book of Roman Poetry without informing me.  That was his little betrayal to our “British Syborites Life” principles.

And I remembered a situation at wars I read in one military book- “lower your head close to the ground and bullets would exactly fly high above your body!

Let it be laid heavily on conscious of Paul and that native Roman lecturer Che.

 Oh, Wow.Pau, Mau!

 

After the successful graduation from the university we had different roads in life.

Being quite an adult man, I left our lovely sunny land and removed to live to the northern cold country and lost all connection with Paul.

Some years ago I by a mere chance learned about his death. That bad news pressed me in a deep sorrow for him because I loved very much.

Poor Paul, may you on the heavens have all you want, and I will be remembering you until being alive.

Dear Paul- my best friend in my youth- a remarkable Padre Vaticano!

 

Gregory Trigger, 2003.Moscow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Сконвертировано и опубликовано на http://SamoLit.com/