Love and Death Page #5

perhaps join the church.

I will lead a righteous life.

Devote myself, as I did in my childhood,

to my singing.

He's got a great voice, hasn't he?

I should have shot him.

And so, Sonja and I married.

I now pronounce you man and wife.

I'm so happy. Look at the kid.

She's so happy, she's speechless.

He missed. He missed... He missed.

I know you're worried whether

you'll be stimulating enough for me.

Whether it's possible to live up to

the chores and obligations of married life.

It's gonna be a cinch, I promise.

I have no bad habits at all.

I grant that I have a few eccentricities.

I won't eat any food that begins

with the letter F. Like chicken.

Boris, I just don't love you.

- Oh, Sonja.

- I love you. But I'm not in love with you.

Sonja, do you even know

what love means?

There are many

different kinds of love, Boris.

There's love between

a man and a woman.

Love between a mother and a son.

Two women. Let's not forget my favourite.

- And the love I've always dreamed of.

- Yeah?

The love between

two extraordinary individuals.

- Sonja.

- Oh, don't, Boris. Please.

Sex without love is an empty experience.

Yes, but as empty experiences go,

it's one of the best.

At fiirst, things were

a little tense between us.

But aftera while, she relaxed.

Don't. Not here.

Soon, Sonja got more used to me.

Sometimes, she actually had fun.

Like the time she baked her fiirst souffl.

Money was scarce, and Sonja learned

to make wonderful dishes out ofsnow.

- Sweetheart, it looks a little rare to me.

- I baked it for an hour and a half.

Did you? Cos it looks...

What's for dessert?

- A surprise, Boris.

- Yes? What?

- A nice big bowl of sleet!

- Oh, sleet! My favourite! That's wonderful.

Evenings, we played music together.

And as time passed, I won herheart.

Oh, Boris. I've never been so happy

in my entire life.

I love you, Boris, in a deeper way

than I ever thought was possible.

Really?

I wanna have children with you.

- What kind?

- Little children.

Of course.

The big ones are mentally slower.

- I wanna have three children.

- One of each.

Oh, Boris.

I'm actually happy.

Well, I hate to say I told you so, but

some men have it and some men don't.

Fortunately, I have so much of it.

Those next months

were the happiest time ofmy life.

Then one day, at the height

ofmy sense ofwellbeing,

I suddenly,

and forno apparent reason,

was seized with an urge

to commit suicide.

You're healthy, you have a beautiful wife,

your work is going well.

I know, but something's missing.

- What?

- I feel a void at the centre of my being.

- What kind of void?

- Well, an empty void.

An empty void?

I felt the full void a month ago,

but it was something I ate.

Maybe what you have

is a sickness of the soul.

- Look, there's Death.

- What? Who?

Death!

He's got Krapotkin, the wine merchant.

- Really?

- Yeah, and a woman.

- Ooh, it's not Mrs Krapotkin.

- You're kidding.

No. I always knew Krapotkin

was diddling somebody else.

- Where are you taking Krapotkin?

- Away! For ever!

Listen, if you run into my wife,

tell her I'm with you!

Goodbye, Krapotkin.

If you get a chance, write.

Father Andre,

holiest of holies, aged and wise,

you are the most wrinkled man

in the entire country.

Get off my beard, you little jerk.

Rise, my child. Rise.

- I'm standing.

- My eyesight is poor.

Everyone says you're senile with age,

but you're the only one that can help me.

I don't think you're senile.

Where did you say the fish was caught?

- What fish?

- Didn't you say something about fish?

Father, Boris is trying to commit suicide.

Last week he contemplated killing

himself by inhaling next to an Armenian.

Tell Boris this.

I have lived many years

and, after many trials and tribulations,

I have come to the conclusion

that the best thing is...

Yes?

..blonde, 12-year-old girls.

Father!

Two of them, whenever possible.

Father, I counted on you.

I forgive you. I forgive you.

Thank you, Your Grubbiness.

As I dangled at the rope's end,

I was suddenly seized

with an urge to live.

All I could think ofwas Sonja.

I wanted to hold her close to me,

weep tears on hershoulder,

and engage in oral sex.

It was then that I made

the decision to live,

to live and become a greatpoet.

I should have been

a pair of ragged claws

scuttling across the floors

of silent seas.

Too sentimental.

That winter

Sonja and I had a wonderful time.

We found a new friend,

Berdykov, the village idiot.

Berdykov would sit smiling for days

and stroke a little piece ofvelvet.

Sonja would make him happy

by feeding him cookies.

We looked forward to the spring,

when we could have a child ofour own.

Little did we know...

War! Napoleon

has invaded Russia! It's war!

Oh, what about all our plans?

We were gonna be parents this year!

There's gonna be a slight change.

Instead, we're gonna be refugees.

- That's terrible!

- We have to take everything and flee.

I'm very good at that. I was the men's

freestyle fleeing champion for two years.

We have to burn the food so the French

don't get it. But it's tough to light borscht.

- Boris, I have an idea.

- What?

Let's assassinate Napoleon.

Yeah. Interesting.

Do you want to start knitting dinner?

- I'm serious.

- What do you mean?

I mean, let's you and I kill Napoleon.

You been drinking from

the glass we use for the village idiot?

- It's the answer to our problems.

- It's not the answer. It's an answer.

And it's the wrong answer.

The correct answer is flee. F-L-E-A. Flee.

- The French occupy Moscow. He's there.

- Sonja!

Two innocent-looking types like us

could get in and shoot him.

We'd never get near him,

and if we did, we'd miss.

He's a tough target. He's very small.

Boris, it's our chance

to perform a truly heroic act.

Since when is murder a heroic act?

Violence is justified

in the service of mankind.

- Who said that?

- Attila the Hun.

You're quoting a Hun to me?

Don't you know

that murder carries with it

a moral imperative that transcends

any notion of inherent universal free will?

That is incredibly jejune.

- That's jejune?

- Jejune!

You have the temerity to say that

I'm talking to you out ofjejunosity?

I am one of the most june people

in all of the Russias.

I have lvan's old pistol.

Sonja!

Political assassination doesn't work.

Violence leads to violence. He who

lives by the sword dies by the sword.

Well, I'm out of clichs now.

- Are you suggesting passive resistance?

- No, I'm suggesting active fleeing.

- You can't run away all your life.

- I know, but murder.

The most foul of all crimes.

And not abstract murder like shooting

an unknown enemy on the battlefield,

but standing in a closed room

with a live human being

and pulling the trigger, face to face.

And a famous human being, a successful

one, one who earns more than I do.

My God, you figure Napoleon has gotta

be good for 10,000 francs a week.

That's minimum. That's without tips

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