Skvernyy anekdot (A Bad Joke) Page #3

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Why am I not leaving?

What am I trying to achieve?

Why

don't people dare to kill themselves?

What keeps them from doing it?

Two things.

Only two reasons.

One of them is very small.

Other one is very big.

But even the small one is also

very big.

It is

pain.

And the big one

is

God.

Do you know

what God is?

God

is pain in the fear

of death.

But that doesn't matter.

My friend,

I got off the ground and started moving.

Where I was moving - this I don't know.

The only thing I know for sure

is that I was moving.

Champagne, gentlemen!

At first, it seemed to me

that before that there

could have been a lot.

But then I realized

that even before

there was nothing as well.

It only

seemed that way.

Little by little,

I came to know...

And to the left.

...that never

nowhere and nothing

will be.

Then

I stopped being angry.

My dear

good friends.

Of course, His Excellency thought that

as a gentleman he is on

equal footing with them

and he needs no special signs whatsoever.

But at the right moment he will remind

that between him and them

there is a difference.

Like heaven and earth.

Because he is father

and they are children.

Yes, gentlemen, he is father

and they are children.

Yes, I'm a funny man.

They now call me

insane.

But it's

a promotion

in rank.

I think it was very good,

and pretty scary too.

I bequeath my skin for a drum.

I will get what I want by sincerity.

I will reveal everything to them.

I will amaze them.

Please, help yourself.

They will fill their glasses to the brim

and drink for my health with a cry.

Yes, Your Excellency!

I am an officer.

I am sure about it.

He will break his glass with a spur.

One could even

cry "Hurrah!"

Hurrah!

Even if

they wanted to chair me

like hussars do, I wouldn't object to that.

It would be absolutely fine with me.

But

they don't

have this

high-society lustre,

they don't have this,

as it were, cordial delicacy.

But I...

I will tell them...

I will tell them about

the destiny of modern Russia.

I will also mention the agricultural issue.

And...

And they will all

love me.

They already love me.

And I will

be famous...

Why do you stick cotton into your ears?

Are you hard on hearing?

On the contrary, I like silence.

I already told...

Gentlemen, I already told

Akim Petrovich just now

that Russia...

Russia, only Russia

at the moment

is going through...

Only Russia...

Gentlemen!

To cut the long story short,

you know what I mean.

...is going through, I am deeply

convinced in that,

a period of humanity.

And what if

I spoil their shoes

to get to know

how people

feel about me,

and what facial expressions

they have up there.

What if I stay here?

What if

I'll never get out of here?

Despite

shame and disgrace,

I'll sleep right here.

Gentlemen! Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

Your Excellency!

All our lives all we do

is respect you unconditionally.

We say this on the part

of the whole community.

Thank you.

Music!

Humanity...

Love of fellow men...

To return the man to himself...

To revive, as it were,

one's sense of dignity.

And then,

with the material ready

at hand, get to work.

Gentlemen! Let's take a syllogism.

All night I dreamt of a monkey.

And only in the morning I dreamt of a rope.

Quite a significant dream.

I've decided to bequeath my skeleton

to the Academy, but only on condition

that on its forehead

there will forever...

Humanity...

...be stuck a label.

Recently...

Recently, I've already said...

Recently...

...that humanity,

as it were, the revival of things...

Your Excellency!

Your Excellency!

What do you want?

Nothing at all, Your Excellency. Go on.

...as it were, the revival of things...

Stop shouting! Or I'll have you thrown out.

Just like that... Do go on.

I'm listening to you. And I

couldn't agree more. It's laudable.

They are just drunken boys.

I can see they are drunk.

It's a conspiracy to bring

disgrace on the wedding.

Your Excellency, I've just been

talking about one lieutenant

who used to add "It's laudable"

to every word of his superiors.

Anyway, he's trying to imitate him now.

They wanted to bring him to court,

but then noticed he was insane.

They proved it medically, Your Excellency.

So they conducted an autopsy?

He was absolutely alive.

Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

I...

I:

totally

understand that they don't dissect

a live person.

I just assumed that in his insanity

he wasn't alive anymore.

I mean, he died.

Porfiri, I...

I see that

all of you...

I'm asking all of you,

what have I done to abase myself?

Your Excellency!

Have mercy!

Porfiri!

Porfiri, I'm asking...

I'm asking you, tell me...

I've come to the wedding...

It's an honour.

I've come to the wedding

and I had an aim.

I wanted to morally restore...

I wanted you to feel...

I'm asking everybody...

Have I abased myself

in your eyes or not?

Yes!

Yes!

You have.

Yes, your are a retrograde!

Young man,

come to your senses!

Who do you think you are talking to?

I'm talking to you!

And besides,

I'm not a young man.

You've come here to put on airs

and seek popularity.

Yes, you've come to boast your humanity.

I suspect that

you are one of those bosses

who are lustful for young brides

of their subordinates.

Pseldonimov, what's going on?

You are not a general, you are nothing!

Pseldonimov!

One moment, Your Excellency! Don't worry!

Bastards!

Scoundrels!

Creatures made for ridicule!

Bastards!

I'm grateful, but independent!

Bastards!

It's servility, gentlemen!

How spectacular, gentlemen.

Even risky. And what did you expect?

For the malignant employee of a satirical

column was partly even a romantic.

But that's the snag, gentlemen.

The main characteristic of

the romantic of our contry

is undoubtedly denying everything,

reconciling oneself to nothing

but also yielding to and evading

everything, treating everyone politicly,

never losing sight of a useful

practical purpose, namely

government housing, pension,

rewards and medals,

seeing this practical purpose through

all the enthusiasm and lyrical poetry.

Our romantic is the first

cheater of all cheaters.

Numerous romantics with time

get promoted to the highest ranks.

Rascals.

They suddenly manifest

such a flair for reality

that astounded superiors and public

are left gaping at them

with their mouths open.

Your Excellency!

I'm ruined.

Your Excellency!

I wanted, as it were, to christen...

Your Excellency!

And now it's over...

Stop laughing!

Wait! Listen!

Vanya, wait!

We need a doctor, Vanya!

Forget about a doctor!

Quick!

Go get a cab.

I bequeath my skin for a drum.

...and those to whomsoever

the Son shall reveal.

Come unto Me all ye that labour

and are heavy laden,

and I will give you rest.

Take my yoke upon you,

and learn of me;

for I am meek

and lowly in heart:

and ye shall find rest unto your souls.

For my yoke is excellent,

and my burden is light.

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