The Carpenter Kushakov

18 September, 2009 21:57:00

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-- Huh! -- said the carpenter, went off to the chemist's, bought a plaster and stuck the plaster over his nose.

The Dream

Kalugin fell asleep and had a dream that he was sitting in some bushes and a policeman was walking past the bushes.

Kalugin woke up, scratched his mouth and went to sleep again and had another dream that he was walking past some bushes and that a policeman had hidden in the bushes and was sitting there.

Kalugin woke up, put a newspaper under his head, so as not to wet the pillow with his dribblings, and went to sleep again; and again he had a dream that he was sitting in some bushes and a policeman was walking past the bushes.

Kalugin woke up, changed the newspaper, lay down and went to sleep again. He fell asleep and had another dream that he was walking past some bushes and a policeman was sitting in the bushes.

At this point Kalugin woke up and decided not to sleep any more, but he immediately fell asleep and had a dream that he was sitting behind a policeman and some bushes were walking past.

Kalugin let out a yell and tossed about in bed but couldn't wake up.

Kalugin slept straight through for four days and four nights and on the fifth day he awoke so emaciated that he had to tie his boots to his feet with string, so that they didn't fall off. In the bakery where Kalugin always bought wheaten bread, they didn't recognize him and handed him a half-rye loaf.

And a sanitary commission which was going round the apartments, on catching sight of Kalugin, decided that he was unsanitary and no use for anything and instructed the janitors to throw Kalugin out with the rubbish.

Kalugin was folded in two and thrown out as rubbish.

The Trunk

A thin-necked man climbed into a trunk, shut the lid behind him and began gasping for breath.

-- So -- said the thin-necked man, gasping for breath -- I am gasping for breath in this trunk because I've got a thin neck. The lid of the trunk is down and isn't letting any air in. I shall be gasping for breath, but all the same I won't open the lid of the trunk. I shall be gradually dying. I shall see the struggle of life and death. The battle which takes place will be an unnatural one, with the chances equal, because under natural conditions death triumphs, and life, doomed to death, merely struggles in vain with the enemy, clinging until the last minute to a futile hope. But in the struggle which will take place now, life will be cognizant of the means of victory: to achieve this life will have to force my hands to open the lid of the trunk. We shall see who will win! Only there's an awful smell of naphthalene. If life triumphs I shall powder all the things in the trunk with makhorka.* So, it has begun: I can't breathe any more. I'm finished, that's clear. There's no saving me now! And there are no lofty thoughts in my head. I'm suffocating.

-- Hey! What's that then? Something just happened but I can't make out exactly what. I saw something or heard something . . .

-- Hey! Something happened again. My God! There's nothing to breathe. It seems I'm dying . . .

-- And now what's that then? Why am I singing? My neck seems to be hurting . . . But where's the trunk? Why can I see all the things in the room? And I seem to be lying on the floor. But where's the trunk?

The man with the thin neck got up from the floor and looked round. The trunk was nowhere around. On the chairs and on the bed lay things which had been pulled out of the trunk, but the trunk was nowhere around.

The thin-necked man said: -- So, life has triumphed over death by means unknown to me.

The Carpenter Kushakov

Once there was a carpenter. He was called Kushakov.

One day he left his house and went off to the shop to buy some carpenter's glue.

There had been a thaw and it was very slippery on the street.

The carpenter took a few steps, slipped, fell down and cracked his forehead open.

-- Ugh! -- said the carpenter, got up, went off to the chemist's, bought a plaster and stuck it on his forehead.

But when he went out on to the street he again slipped, fell and smashed his nose.

-- Huh! -- said the carpenter, went off to the chemist's, bought a plaster and stuck the plaster over his nose.

Then he went out on to the street again, again slipped, fell and cracked open his cheek.

Once again he had to go off to the chemist's and stick a plaster over his cheek.

-- Well, then -- the chemist said to the carpenter -- you seem to fall and hurt yourself so often, that I would advise you to buy several plasters while you are at it.

-- No -- said the carpenter -- I'm not going to fall any more!

But when he went out on to the street he slipped again, fell and smashed his chin.

-- Damn these icy patches! -- exclaimed the carpenter and again ran off to the chemist's.

-- There you are, you see -- said the chemist. -- You've gone and fallen again.

-- Not at all! -- shouted the carpenter. -- I won't hear another word! Give me a plaster, and hurry up!

The chemist handed over a plaster; the carpenter stuck it on his chin and ran off home.

But at home they didn't recognize him and wouldn't let him into the flat.

-- I'm the carpenter Kushakov! -- the carpenter shouted.

-- Pull the other one! -- was the reply from the flat and they fastened the door, both with the key and with the chain.

The carpenter Kushakov stood on the staircase for a flit, spat and went off down the street.

A Sonnet

A surprising thing happened to me: I suddenly forgot which comes first -- 7 or 8.

I went off to the neighbours and asked them what they thought on the subject.

Just imagine their and my surprise when they suddenly discovered that they too couldn't recall how to count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 and 6 they remembered, but they'd forgotten what followed.

We all went to the overpriced food shop, the Gastronom on the corner of Znamenskaya and Basseynaya street, and put our quandary to the cashier. The cashier smiled sadly, pulled a small hammer out of her mouth and, twitching her nose a bit, said -- I should think seven comes after eight whenever eight comes after seven.

We thanked the cashier and joyfully ran out of the shop. But then, having thought about the cashier's words, we got depressed again, since her words seemed to us to be devoid of any sense.

What were we to do? We went to the Summer Garden and started counting the trees there. But, getting as far as 6, we stopped and began to argue: in the opinion of some, 7 came next, and in the opinion of others -- 8.

We would have argued for ages, but fortunately then some child fell off a park bench and broke both his jaw-bones. This distracted us from our argument.

And then we dispersed homewards.

Daniil Kharms

INCIDENCES (1939)