What Fun

 My telephone rang. I picked up the receiver.

"Hello! Operator Zhukov speaking. We remind you that you must repay a debt for the international calls you made." (The voice quotes an astronomical figure).

I'm stunned.

"What international calls?" (A thought flashed through my mind. Did I call Patrick in Paris? I did, though very long ago. And what about Jim in the States? I called him too! I was drink on account of my birthday and my soul longed for communication.

In the morning, I got up with a heavy head and a freezing fear of the debt for the outpourings of the heart to the buddy over the ocean. But it was Jim who called from Texas. With a laugh, he told me he realized the condition I was in, and how much I now owe to the telephone people. In this connection he asked me to go to the bank, to pick up some money he had sent me for paying for the long talk and buying something to ease the hangover. My gosh! Really, there are Americans who subtly understand a life of the ordinary Russian.

"Excuse me, but I've paid for all my talks!" I objected.

"Not for all. Last week you called Japan and talked for two hours."(Japan? I do have a good friend there. The mechanic Murata. At one point we worked together. And I had long wanted to call him. But I never did. To start with, it's much too costly. And second, I've long forgotten how to speak Japanese).

"In addition to Japan, you called the Hawaiian Islands and conversed for an hours." The Hawaiian Islands? I haven't got anybody there! But then,a pen pal of mine, Charles of Minnesota, had flown there for a rest. He even sent me a photograph from there. He stands in fancy-colored shorts, embracing a palm, and smiling blissfully. But I didn't call there! Neither drunk, nor sober!

"Also, you put a call through to Canada."

"That's not true! The call came from THERE! (The journalist Steve, a contributor to the Toronto Star, whom I'd met in Abu Dhabi.)

"And then there was a call and a two-hour conversation with a person in Machu Picchu."

"Where's that?"

"That's in Peru."

"Impossible! I don't know anybody there. Actually, it's the first time I hear about the place."

"In case of non-payment we shall disconnect your telephone," says Zhukov coolly. "Meantime your debt will keep growing."

"Listen! It must be a mistake."

"It is NOT a mistake. So our computer shows. And we have a printout to this effect, which is a legal document."

"Mr. Zhukov, it must be some crooks tapping my telephone number. There are a lot of telephone swindlers now. Let's sort it out."

"We have nothing to sort out," says Zhukov. "Our company is a commercial enterprise, not a charitable establishment. We don't want losses. And what we do is in strict accordance with law."

"I too will go to law!" (A thought again: where shall I go? To the legal advice office? Seeking a lawyer? But where shall I get time and money for that? My heart starts to pound fast).

"Mr. Zhukov, may I speak to your superior?"

"Sure."

"What's his name, please?"

"Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin."

"Are you joking?"

"Not at all. This is not a poet. This is our boss. Or are you embarrassed by his name?"

"No. Why should I be? That's a normal Russian name."

(At school in the parallel class there was a boy with a surname of Pushkin. And a footballer named Mozart plays for the Spartacus team. Names can be different).

I hear a voice of another man in the receiver.

"Hello," I say. "Is it Mr. Pushkin? Your customer here. The problem is that......

I start explaining the situation and that's when I hear: "

"You bugger."

"What did you say?"

"I said what you heard." Suddenly, an unrestrained guffaw issues from the receiver. It sounds like a roar of a mature boar at the slaughter stabbed by an inexpert butcher.

"H-h-h-h-a-a-a-a-a-!!!"

From somewhere in the background comes a chorus of grunts.I put down the receiver. What's that? Today is not the first of April when practical jokes, one more foolish than another, are played. What is it, then? And why? To get pleasure?! What from? From the embarrassment, helplessness and defenselessness of the fellow creature? Catching him unawares in order to jeer and laugh at to one's heart's content?

It's like throwing banana peels on a track for watching how people will fall onto it.

"Look, Alec, how that man crashed down! What a classy fall! And how nicely that old woman flopped! She must have gotten the femoral neck fracture! What fun!

Good boys are having a good time.....