Intro.. ...Back
Draw... ..Along
Poems.. ...More
He opened a thin white book: an old natural history textbook: lying in a cardboard suitcase:
next to the yellowish shirts and newspapers eaten by mice along the edges - and shook with it a
little: to snow out the thirty years old dust.
The tiny grains immediately came to life: and in the slow waves: they slowly disappeared
into the shadows: behind several sunbeams shining obliquely between the roof tiles - so that for a
moment one could see even more clearly and in detail the usually terribly inconspicuous work of the
sun with its fingers.
Some of the dust fell back into large black paragraphs: and a narrow picture of a smirking
female skeleton: what she was standing in the book with all her human bones at guard: and she
looked Marosh straight in the eye: by which: she probably wanted to threaten him ridiculously: and
warn him: that in addition to the respect: which he now feels in front of this dark place - he
should also pay close attention to: what he is touching here.
There were several muscular men on the other sides: completely stripped of skin: and other
colorful bloody images of the liver: lungs: and many meters of twisted wavy coarse: and small
intestines: which he could not imagine in his little belly at all. On the other hand: with the
lungs and kidneys: it could really be somehow so similar: and with the heart - he agreed
completely.
But most of all: he was still interested: how is it with girlish pussies: because also
according to the words of the boys from the school: and from the neighbors: his time has come for
it a long time ago.
But nowhere inside could he find anything: that even remotely resembled the halved: what
is drawn under the girlish panties: when they change clothes for a gym class - and also nothing:
what would resemble the dark: what shines through the female wet swimsuits: it was nowhere to be
seen there - even though he looked at the whole book twice: to the last page.
Therefore he quickly flipped through it again: found in it six brown crumbs from a pencil -
a few pages in the middle have been glued together: and in several white places it was written
Zuzana: or heart and Zuza pierced by an arrow: and whereas: the second half of the attic already
called him very urgently and someone could return home at any moment and detect him here - he
postponed it all for later.
He put the book behind his back: to the old folding knife: which did not go to open: and
took another careful duck step forward: very quietly: so as not to wake uncle Dushan: who was just
sleeping right under his feet.
Next to the trunk was a mirror with a small shelf: there were white wheels from soap: and in
the upper right corner was a red beer sticker with ragged edges - as someone wanted to put it down:
but he failed.
Marosh's sweaty face looked behind a gray mist and in the midst of the surrounding half-
light - wild and alien: and if it wasn't a shame: he'd admit: he's lightly scared.
He took two more cautious duck steps: put the mouth of dusty jute sack on his knee: and
first with his nails: and then: with his teeth: he tried to get inside through the gray twine.
It was useless.
So he returned for the knife: which did not open again. The ugly taste of rust and stale
hemp remained in his mouth: so he wiped his tongue on the other side of his T-shirt: and most
quietly: he moved back to the sack.
For a while: he jerked with the greasy knot to the right and left: and up and down - to
loosen it: then perhaps it will be possible to pull the twine from above: and when he was really
beginning to get angry - at the back of the sack - something spilled loudly.
After about four absolutely detailed minutes: Marosh finally dared to move.
There was still silence downstairs.
He placed the sack on its entrails: he wiped the sweat from his eyes and only one look was
enough to be sure that it was worth that mess: and it would certainly be worth other painful
consequences too.
On top of the gaily colored mound were: like marzipan leaves: scattered joker cards with
cartoon women. All had large breasts and wide hips which sticked out them: to the one: or to both
sides: depending on whether they sat: lay: or stood: combed themself: bathed in a tub: bent over
for something: or otherwise showed off to look as beautiful as possible.
One of them was looking at him from behind her pink back: and black knee socks stuck out
from under her classy ass. She was really beautiful and rightly the queen of hearts.
Below the cards were all sorts of postcards: mostly from people: whose names Marosh did not
know: several unsharpen ink pencils drew on them ugly blue blots. Sometimes an old coin rolled out
of nowhere or military coat button: and between Easter and Christmas greetings one strange photo
was tucked: with fully naked women - there was a big number in each corner.
The One Hundred: Marosh whispered to his knee: and with his chin: he wrote another circle
on it: as always when he was crouched somewhere over something: but at the same time he was
completely far away and in vast gone.
When the phone rang for the first time: Marosh just followed the line: which have women
along the belly: and on the back: as if it was pointing down there into the black: a nd because it
was immediately clear: that everything is completely fucked up: he wasn't very scared.
In a moment there was a slow rustling quite close by.
It was Uncle Dushan: who was slowly getting up (shaggy: in white shorts and swollen eyes)
and opening the door to his room.
The phone was in the hallway opposite the bathroom: about three long manlike steps from the
back room: Uncle took eight small ones and said: please: no: no Baby: I just got up: okay: I will
come: me too: and hang up.
It looked like he was packing up soon and going out.
It wasn't completely hopeless and Marosh began to think quietly: and carefully plan the
descent.
He had two options.
Wait for the uncle to leave - that could take a long time: and in the meantime the grand-
parents could return from the garden.
Or he could use the moment when Dushan is in the bathroom: slip into the corridor and then
into the yard and this was a bigger risk.
He decided to wait: because he had to carry a lot of things to the base camp: and he still
didn't know exactly: how to take them. And when he remember Beata - what is her like: reassured
himself: that uncle will definitely be in a hurry - the call: it must have been her - Marosh could
not think of anyone else for whom his uncle would get out of bed so humbly.
Two or three minutes after waking up: his uncle was a rude insidious man - anyone could
learn from him: that he is an idiot.. But otherwise it was mostly fun with him: and especially:
when his girlfriend was nearby: in that time: he was really flawless: everyone around him laughed
divinely.
Now the electric buzz was heard from below: uncle was shaving around the moustache and
thick red lips: and along the fat cheeks to the temples: where his bald hair ended - Marosh always
liked to look at this: and actually everything: what uncle did was fine.
He didn't understand at all - why it should be strange that women were clinging to him.
Sometimes grandma used to say it and other people too. Marosh even liked the way he spat in the
sink a while ago - but at this moment: he was enemy number one: and he was showing off quite
unnecessarily.
In another awful few minutes: uncle came out of the bathroom: and began: incredibly slowly:
to get dressed.
He opened the closet: unfolded hangers with shirts: picked socks and hung pants on chair:
which rang thinly with a buckle on its belt: then he left the room: walked past the front door:
tripped over the creaking kitchen door and opened the fridge.
Marosh meanwhile took off his T-shirt as quietly as he could: and put in it the most
beautiful postcards: playing cards: knife and book: and somehow knotted it: so it could be carried
in one hand - and even quieter as was possible crawled around the bottles: suitcases: sacks and
wasp's nests: above the heavy trapdoor: under which were the stairs and freedom.
If he knew: what Dushan does in the kitchen: whether he is stuffing with something: or
drinking: or just stares on salami in fridge: he could risk it and come down - but he knew
nothing: and if his uncle had just come out of the kitchen: he would have noticed him: because
from the front door you could see straight to the stairs to the attic.
Minutes were running.
Marosh was still squating up and stretching his ears: he knew: that uncle was still in the
kitchen: but he didn't hear much from there: the sweat ran down on his forehead: back and calves
and his eyes were biting from dust. He wiped them - and then - the handle quickly clicked: and
mother said: Hi: and this was really too much.
Marosh wrinkled his dirty greasy forehead: because he was starting to cry - just today she
had to come back so soon - otherwise - she sits there with Eve all fucking days..
Of course: uncle finally started to put on his shoes: and he chewed something: when he
said: that the young man will probably be out there somewhere.
Rough shit! He is sitting right above your bald spot! - a desperate voice swore in Marosh's
head.
Mom turned on the radio: and was banging with something in the kitchen: she could run to
the bathroom at any time: or out to the yard: or directly below the attic stairs: where was the
pantry: but Marosh still told himself: Now or never! - he leaned against the door superhumanly
carefully and managed not to slam and to close quietly behind himself.
It was really extremely difficult: because he had to stand on his fingertips from the
second step: so to reach the door: which he had to leave lying on sack: and then he had to slammed
it voicelessly over himself like a coffin - he placed the door on his neck and was crouching
slowly - he was crouching inside himself completely: until the rusty latch ended it all with a
faint ringing..
Marosh was now wet: as if he descended down from the water: to another dry world at the
bottom: and he was smiling faintly.
He felt a good ending in his bones - in spite of all the stupid bad luck this will be his
big happy day very probably.
He inhaled: and by three long steps and by several other leopard jumps: he flew lightly to
the door: and as a vapor: slipped through the thinnest possible gap out.
The next two sweet hours: he sat behind the garage on the ground: he felt great: and
admired his divine possessions.
Several times he packed it back into his t-shirt - to take it to show the boys: but he
always changed his mind - he was probably afraid that something would disappear from it and he was
enjoying the sight again: he looked closely at each card and followed the line that the naked
women had on their stomachs.
The old book was really smelly and had very yellow pages: and besides the name Zuza: there
was also Helena and some Dita - in hearts: in clouds: or just in bold writing.
The glued pages in the middle could not be separated in any way: neither by nails: nor by
the pocket knife - which he finally managed to open: it didn't work - it only made them even more
dirty.
But: what he was looking for: it was between them certainly: since on the page before was a
large picture of a bent pecker: also with two eggs: and all sorts of hoses and wheels inside.
When rubbing the pages between his fingers: to loosen them: he noticed: there was a dark
spot in the middle.
He held the book in front of his eyes: so that it was straight between the sun and its face:
and recognized the four-leaf clover by its outline.
Marosh has never managed to find a four-leaf clover in his life: and a few times: he really
long sought it: and therefore: he began to worried about it.
He didn't want: that his own desire for knowledge would somehow mess it: and then came to
his mind: that it could be separable in vapor: as the postage stamps: so it will be better to leave :
it: anyway it is now only his book sovereignly.
For one moment more: he didn't want to break away from the cards: he made flushes and
triplets: and dirty flushes with a joker: and was closing game right from his hand: for minus two
hundred points: but slowly it was getting afternoon: and it was necessary to go to let oneself be
known: that he was not roaming.
He hid it all in the garage at the back of the table: put on T-shirt: dusted it off: and
also his hair and pants.
During that time: what he was out: everyone came back and again the house was full of people
- of course Mother was already afraid: Grandpa was eating something with dumplings: with his huge
hands: and Grandma added a little more of it to him at any moment - and when Marosh sat down at the
table: she sent him to wash himself without delay.
In the hallway: small wooden sandals with a black strap with silver studs were placed next
to the mat - so Dushan and Beata were locked in the back room - and in the bathroom you could
really hear that cuddly voice she always used to speak.
Grandma shouted from the kitchen: that everyone should go eat: because meal will be cold -
here everyone shouted at anyone from anywhere: but no one minded.
Actually: some of Dushan's girls sometimes showed on their faces: they were insulted: but
Beata never.
Maroš quickly wiped his wet hands - to catch them in the door and as they walked next to
him: she said: Hi handsome: how are you? Then they all sat down: chewed cabbage: kindly asked:
swallowed and answered pleasant questions.
And also all the words during the meal: they were only good: to make taste good: as always
and other things as well - thick white plates and heavy fragrances were sewn directly in the
embroidered tablecloth: which was still there under the glass until Sunday - just like every week.
Only the uncle was kind of different.
He answered austerely and his laughter sounded falsely.
And what was really very strange - Beata no longer looked at him with those big eyes -
which she had yesterday. The first rose from the table: and: in her short denim tasseling trousers:
with slanted folds forward: like on a mail envelope - she walked barefoot out of the kitchen.
In an hour or so: when she walked alone with her accompanying scent in the yard around
Marosh - she touched him ticklingly: with her fingers: over his waist - and suddenly: out of
nowhere: he knew one hundred percent: that she likes: when fabric rubs against her naked breasts:
and if he slap on her ass now - if he did it precisely in way: which he had exactly: the movement
behind the movement: stored in his head - she would not turn with a furious scream - but she would
laugh madly: and lusterly: she would look him in the eyes.
And all this seemed very natural to him: and contentedly: for this time: he let her pass
around.
