The Curse of Hermes Trismegistus. Вадим Иванович Кучеренко

way like a scared doggy… I was afraid that I might lose him and remain alone. Do you know how frightening loneliness is?

      Myshevskiy. My father had seven children. I have five. Beside two sons there are three daughters. How should I know what loneliness is like? Sometimes, I am longing to become alone. But fortunately, this desire leaves me quickly.

      Golyshkin. I can only say that you are a happy man Mr. …

      Myshevskiy. Myshevskiy. Andrey Myshevskiy. I called you yesterday, Stalver Udarpyatovich and asked for an appointment. You invited me at your place.

      Golyshkin. Oh, sure! I remember, dear Andrey… Excuse me, what is your patronymic name?

      Myshevskiy. My father’s name was Sigizmund, so I am Andrey Sigizmundovich. One can’t pronounce it in one breath. So, if it’s difficult for you…

      Golyshkin. Why should it be difficult for me? My father’s name was also not a simple one – Udarpyat. It is a short form of a word, standing for “shock worker of a five-year state plan”. There was such time: mass enthusiasm, peoples’ creativity boom and all that stuff…

      Myshevskiy. You are right. There was cool time!

      Golyshkin. So, my father Udarpyat Rodionovich without evasion gave me a name of Stalver. It is a short form standing for “I trust Stalin». So, how should I react to all this?

      Myshevskiy. Philosophically.

      Golyshkin. You are right. Perhaps, only thanks to my name I received a PhD in Philosophy.

      Myshevskiy. Following your theory, Stalver Udarpyatovich I became a businessman only thanks to my patronymic name Sigizmundovich?

      Golyshkin. Mm-m… Anyway, I managed to break this vicious circle. To my son I gave a name in honor of my grandfather, a peasant from a Tambov province. Actually, it was him with his rich imagination and deep trust to the Soviet power who initiated all that. His name was Rodion. Such a beautiful and simple Russian name. But I see, it’s not interesting for you…

      Myshevskiy. Well…

      Golyshkin. Excuse me, the old man, I was carried away with my reflections! As far as I remember, your visit is related to my new book?

      Myshevskiy. Yes, you are right, Stalver Udarpyatovich. I got very interested in your “Theosophical System of Nature Levels and Existence of Endless Variety of Matter Forms in the Light of Spiritualism”. Is it this book you are holding now?

      Golyshkin. Hm-m… I would put you an “excellent” mark if you took my exam, Mr. Myshevsky. You pronounced a title of my book without a single stumbling. It’s not common, I tell you.

      Myshevskiy. No wonder, professor. I have thought a lot about it. You claim that all material phenomena might be turned eventually into spiritual ones…

      Golyshkin. Well, it’s not me who claims that. I mean I am not the first and the only…

      Myshevskiy. Perhaps, it is true professor. But I read about this idea from your book.

      Golyshkin. It’s nice to hear that, Andrey Sigizmundovich. By the way, which direction of spiritualism does appeal to you more – absolute or relative? Do you prefer to follow Berkley or the old Aristotle?

      Myshevskiy. It’s hard for me to answer your question, professor. Actually, I have rather vague idea about spiritualism. I told you, I am a businessman. I came here not to discuss controversial issues of theosophy but with a specific goal.

      Golyshkin. What goal?

      Myshevskiy. To turn your abilities into money, Stalver Udarpyatovich. You are my golden mine, professor.

      Golyshkin. Excuse me, but me and money are two incompatible things. Haven’t you read my book? Perhaps, you noticed that it’s too far from materialism. Yes, I admit that a human body requires its special living conditions. However, I consider the body to be a product of spiritual activity of a human being. I doubt that one can make money out of it.

      Myshevskiy. What if you are mistaken, professor?

      Golyshkin. Then do persuade me, Mr. Myshevsky! I would be even glad. But before taking this Sisyphean labor… would you like a cup of tea?

      Myshevskiy. I would prefer black coffee with no sugar, no milk.

      Golyshkin. As for me, I prefer green tea with jasmine. It smells marvelous!

      Myshevskiy. I heard that jasmine has a smell of disease. And black coffee smells like revenge.

      Golyshkin. Oh, I would never think of that! Okay, let it be your way, Mr. Myshevsky. Drink your coffee enjoying the idea of revenge. Meanwhile I will be diving into disease. Then you will tell me what brought you here.

      The doorbell is ringing at the entrance hall. Rodion having changed his pajamas for jeans and shirt opens the door. Olga comes in with a medical case in her hands. She comes up to the mirror patting her hair. The young lady is dressed modestly wearing a cheap skirt and a blouse.

      Rodion. Hello Olenka! Wow! Hotcha! You look more and more irresistible each day!

      Olga. Oh, here you are, Rodion… How is Stalver Sigizmundovich doing? Don’t see me off, I know the way to his room.

      Rodion. Olga Alekseevna! Maybe I am goofy but I can’t understand what is my fault.

      Olga. How should I know? Ask your father about it.

      Rodion. I can’t. He is talking to a very cool buddy now. They are bouncing off some cool stuff. So, Olenka, you will have to wait. There is vodka and coca-cola… Would you like a cocktail of Jim Morrison?

      Olga. Listen, Rodion, it looks like you have nothing to do, is that right? Are you hanging around doing nothing or is it your work?

      Rodion. What are you talking about Olga Alekseevna? Please, do explain for me, stupid guy!

      Olga. Each time when I come to see Stalver Udarpyatovich I see you at home. So, my conclusion is that you are either an absolute idler living on your father’s means or a sheik.

      Rodion. Actually, I am like pants without a shirt. I am living free life with no responsibility.

      Olga. Don’t waste your time then. I don’t care about men of such type.

      Rodion. Whatever… what machos do you care about?

      Olga. Speaking your slang I like hot and pricy machos.

      Rodion. Oh, such a pain…

      Olga. All women are like that! Why would I be an exception? Am I a fright? Am I stupid?

      Rodion. Oh no, Olenka! You are a pussy cat. Sweet pussy cat!

      Olga. That’s it, my little boy!

      Rodion. Oh shucks! I am not a little boy. If I have no bucks it’s not the reason to call me sucker.

      Olga. Take it easy, cowboy! Only boiled eggs are harder than you and only stars are higher. However, I call a boy any man not capable to fulfill my dream.

      Rodion. What’s that shit? Don’t make pickle-puss, tell me! Olya! Please tell me!

      Olga. Well… That shit as you, dude, called it are the Iguazu Waterfalls.

      Rodion. Holy cow! Where is it?

      Olga. It’s in Brazil. Nothing in the world could be as beautiful as the Iguazu Waterfalls. Just imagine: more than three hundreds flows are simultaneously cascading from the towering height. And there is an internal rainbow created by a billion of water drops and the sun. I saw it on TV.

      Rodion. I thought that all pussy cats dream of Paris.

      Olga. You mean to see Paris and die at the top of the Eiffel Tower? This is really a bullshit!

      Rodion. But Brazil is too far! I guess the antipode people must live there…

      Olga. That’s right, smart cookie! When it is winter at our country they are enjoying summer. When we are crying they are singing. Is that enough or should I go on?

      Rodion. Enough.

      Olga.