Diaboliad   ::   Булгаков Михаил Афанасьевич

Arriving at work extremely late, a crafty Korotkov went straight to his office, so as not to give rise to any false speculation among the lower ranks, and found on his desk a memo from thehead of the Supplies Sub-Section to the head of the Base asking whether the typists were to receive any special clothing. After reading the memo with his right eye, Korotkov picked it up and set off down the corridor to the office of the Base head, Comrade Chekushin.

Right outside the door of the office Korotkov collided with a most peculiar-looking stranger.

The stranger was so short that he only came up to the tall Korotkov's waist. This lack of height was compensated for by the extraordinary breadth of the stranger's shoulders. The squarish torso sat on bandy legs, of which the left one limped. But the most remarkable thing was the head. It was like a huge model of an egg placed horizontally on the neck with the pointed end facing you. It was also bald, like an egg, and so shiny that electric light bulbs shone all the time on the crown. The small face was shaven blue, and the green eyes, small as pin-heads, sat in deep sockets. The stranger's body was enveloped in an unbuttoned army jacket made from a grey blanket, with an embroidered Ukrainian shirt peeping out. The legs were clad in trousers of the same material and the feet in shortish boots with slits like those worn by hussars in the reign of Alexander I.

«Funny-looking chap,» thought Korotkov, making for the door of Chekushin's office and trying to get past the bald man. But suddenly and quite unexpectedly the latter blocked his way.

«What do you want?» the bald man asked Korotkov in a voice that made the sensitive Chief Clerk shudder. It was like the voice of a copper pan and had a timbre that sent prickles down the spine of all who heard it. What's more, the stranger's words seemed to smell of matches. In spite of all this, a short-sighted Korotkov did something one should never do under any circumstances — he took offence.

«Ahem. This is very odd. Here am I trying to deliver a memo. Would you mind telling me who you are…»

«Can't you see what's written on the door?»

Korotkov looked at the door and saw the familiar notice: «Admittance by notification only.»

«Well, this is my notification,» Korotkov joked weakly, pointing at the memo.

The bald square man suddenly got angry. His little eyes flashed with yellowish sparks.

«You, Comrade,» he said, deafening Korotkov with his clatter-pan sounds, «are so immature that you do not understand the meaning of a simple office notice. I'm most surprised that you have stayed here so long. And in general there are lots of funny things going on here. Take all those bandaged eyes, for example.