The Rascally Romance (in a single helluva-long letter about a flicking-short life) - Сергей Николаевич Огольцов

There's just one thing beyond any doubt – life is shorter than even the dash between the dates of birth and death. And I do not care that no one cares about my useless wisdom, because I know better than anyone else that after all that was there, after my stupidities and mistakes, after stepping in all sorts of shit, I am not a hair-breadth wiser, I am still the same naive sucker ready to get underway to the unseen Where-Where Mountains. And let the hull is old like hell, the mast all cracks, and this whole nutshell will not survive the nearest storm – ahead, at full tilt! And let another calypso or penelope (what's the difference?) tearing the blouse on her charms, cries out and rushes along the foamy water edge – full ahead!.

I know that the bigger part of the dash is over so, come what may, the final leg would be passed as well, perk up – we’ll prick thru for sure! Like hell will anything stop a hooey-pricker!.

Good-bye, sweetie.

My fatherly hug to you. And, since you are fond of "You" in the plural –

With love,

your daddies: Sehrguey and Nikolayevich.

(…and whichever rumors reach you, stay assured – we lived happily ever after and died on the same day…)

P. S.:

In case you will give birth to a baby-son – look out! And if you notice an excessive interest for paper, or if instead of games in the computer he starts playing with text typing, then wrap him in a white cloth and throw into the fast-running River-Mommy and he'll only say "thank you!" afterward.

P. P. S.:

I almost forgot to warn that any coincidence with the names of real persons is purely accidental and the described events – fictitious because there is no one responsible for the unpredictably weird dreams of another life-long graphomaniac—

thru the night of 20 to 21 August 2007,

on the left bank of the Varanda River…

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