JК
Diaboliad :: Булгаков Михаил Афанасьевич
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«Put them on!» Blondyroared in the mist.
«Aaah,» whimpered Korotkov and began banging his head against the corner of Blondy's desk. His head felt better for a moment, and Korotkov caught a glimpse of a tear-stained face.
«Valerian drops!» cried someone on the ceiling.
The cloak obscured the light, like a black bird, and the old man whispered in alarm:
«Our only hope now is Dyrkin in section five. Hurry up! Hurry up!»
There was a smell of ether, and Korotkov was carried gently into the semi-dark corridor. The cloak enveloped him and swept him along, whispering and giggling: «I've done them a good turn alright. That stuff I threw on their desks will get each of them at least five years with loss of civil rights on the field of battle. Hurry up! Hurry up!»
The cloak fluttered to one side, and a damp gust of air wafted from the lift shaft plunging into the abyss.
X
DYRKIN THE DREAD
The mirrored cabin began to sink down, and two Korotkovs sank with it. The second Korotkov was forgotten in the mirror of the lift by the first and main one, who walked out alone into the cool vestibule. A very fat and pink gent in a top hat greeted Korotkov with the words:
«That's wonderful. I'm going to arrest you.»
«You can't do that,» Korotkov replied with a satanic laugh, «because nobody knows who I am. Of course not. You can't arrest me or marry me. And I'm not going to Poltava either.»
The fat man quaked with terror, looked into Korotkov's eyes and began to sink backwards.
«Arrest me,» Korotkov squealed and stuck out a pale quivering tongue smelling of Valerian drops at the fat man. «How can you arrest me if instead of documents I've got sweet fanny adams? Perhaps I'm a Hohenzollern.»
«Jesus Christ,» said the fat man, crossing himself with a trembling hand and turning from pink to yellow.
«Longjohn turned up?» Korotkov asked abruptly, looking round. «Answer me, Fatty.»
«Oh, no,» the fat man replied, his pink complexion changing to grey.
«Well, what shall I do now then? Eh?»
«Go and see Dyrkin himself,» the fat man babbled. «That's the best thing. Only he's a real terror! Don't get too close. He sent two people flying. And today he broke a phone.»
«Alright then,» Korotkov replied with a devil-may-care spit. «We've nothing to lose now. Lift me up!»
«Don't hurt your leg, Comrade Delegate,» said the fat man tenderly, helping Korotkov into the lift.
«Put them on!» Blondyroared in the mist.
«Aaah,» whimpered Korotkov and began banging his head against the corner of Blondy's desk. His head felt better for a moment, and Korotkov caught a glimpse of a tear-stained face.
«Valerian drops!» cried someone on the ceiling.
The cloak obscured the light, like a black bird, and the old man whispered in alarm:
«Our only hope now is Dyrkin in section five. Hurry up! Hurry up!»
There was a smell of ether, and Korotkov was carried gently into the semi-dark corridor. The cloak enveloped him and swept him along, whispering and giggling: «I've done them a good turn alright. That stuff I threw on their desks will get each of them at least five years with loss of civil rights on the field of battle. Hurry up! Hurry up!»
The cloak fluttered to one side, and a damp gust of air wafted from the lift shaft plunging into the abyss.
X
DYRKIN THE DREAD
The mirrored cabin began to sink down, and two Korotkovs sank with it. The second Korotkov was forgotten in the mirror of the lift by the first and main one, who walked out alone into the cool vestibule. A very fat and pink gent in a top hat greeted Korotkov with the words:
«That's wonderful. I'm going to arrest you.»
«You can't do that,» Korotkov replied with a satanic laugh, «because nobody knows who I am. Of course not. You can't arrest me or marry me. And I'm not going to Poltava either.»
The fat man quaked with terror, looked into Korotkov's eyes and began to sink backwards.
«Arrest me,» Korotkov squealed and stuck out a pale quivering tongue smelling of Valerian drops at the fat man. «How can you arrest me if instead of documents I've got sweet fanny adams? Perhaps I'm a Hohenzollern.»
«Jesus Christ,» said the fat man, crossing himself with a trembling hand and turning from pink to yellow.
«Longjohn turned up?» Korotkov asked abruptly, looking round. «Answer me, Fatty.»
«Oh, no,» the fat man replied, his pink complexion changing to grey.
«Well, what shall I do now then? Eh?»
«Go and see Dyrkin himself,» the fat man babbled. «That's the best thing. Only he's a real terror! Don't get too close. He sent two people flying. And today he broke a phone.»
«Alright then,» Korotkov replied with a devil-may-care spit. «We've nothing to lose now. Lift me up!»
«Don't hurt your leg, Comrade Delegate,» said the fat man tenderly, helping Korotkov into the lift.