franksolich almost gets visited by primitives. “Hey boss,†the property caretaker said this morning, “you should’ve been at the bar last night; there were four Rooskies there, and you might’ve been able to help.â€
I arched my eyebrows. “How so?â€
'Well, you can’t hear Russian and you can’t speak it, but you can read it,†he reminded me.
Sure, yeah, even though I’m rusty.
“How’d you know they were Russian, and where were they from?†I asked.
“Nobody could figure it out at first--there were four big guys who came in and started asking questions nobody could understand. They came in a car with Florida license-plates. They all were built like professional football players, although two of them were bald. They all had some nasty-looking scars, too.
“At first, we thought they were looking for a fight.
“All we could catch was all four of them had the same name, Boris.
“[The village idiot] was about ready to call the sheriff, like he did that one time when those four Italian-looking guys from Maryland showed up--â€
If I had ears, they would’ve perked up.
- - - - - - - - - -
“When did any Italian-looking guys show up around here?†I asked.
“Damn it, boss,†the caretaker replied. “I’m sure you were told about it, but then you weren’t paying attention. It was about a month ago, when they stormed in the bar, saying they were looking for someone around here.
“They were pretty belligerent, and treated us as if we were a bunch of peasants or something.
“They insisted they were looking for some guy--some guy whose name’s never been heard of around here, not even by Gus, who’s 94 years old, and known everybody who‘s ever been here.
“They said we were lying, and looked as if they were going to smash some faces, break some legs, bust up the place, when the sheriff was called.
“The sheriff chatted with them, and found a bunch of baseball bats in the trunk of their car.
“He took one of the bats and broke it in half, and then told them nobody by that name lived around here, and best that they get going on their way, after which they did, in a hurry.â€
Oh.
- - - - - - - - - -
So anyway, I asked, what was the deal with the Russians?
“After a bunch of confused, mixed-up, yimmer-yammering back and forth, we finally figured they were looking for somebody. But because they couldn’t speak English, and we can’t do Russian, there was obviously a barrier.
“The bartendress advised everybody to calm down, relax, and get mellow, and it’d sort itself out in time.
“One of them drew a picture, a couple of stick-men, one of them tall and thin, the other short and round. The tall one was sticking a dagger into the chest of the round one.
“This made no sense at all to us.â€
Ah, yes, I thought; I could see it, having gone through such experiences myself, in the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants; because I didn’t know Russian and the others didn’t know English, much paper and ink were expended in attempts to communicate via pictures and words.
“The picture they drew didn’t do any good, so they sat around writing words in Russian, and it looked as if they were speculating what the words might be in English. They’d occasionally pass it across the table to one of us, to see if we’d recognize any of the words, but it was all Greek to us.
“Come about twelve-thirty, when everybody was pretty well plastered but the bar had to close, they indicated they’d just head on to the big city, to see if anybody there knew Russian.â€
Well, they’d probably have to keep heading west on U.S. Highway 20 for a long time, I said, before they’d find anybody who knows even a little bit of Russian, I said; franksolich was their last chance before Portland, Oregon.
It was too bad, but excresence happens; one misses opportunities without even realizing it.
“I took one of those sheets of paper, boss,†the caretaker continued, “where apparently they were trying to find words in English to describe who they were looking for, and maybe you can figure it out.â€
He actually shoved over two pieces of paper, beer-stained, and the ink smeared. I glanced at it quickly, reminding him my Russian is rusty, and I’d have to think about it. There were several words thereupon, such as Футбол, Ð±Ð¾Ð»ÑŒÑˆÐ°Ñ ÐºÑ€Ð°Ñнота, Глухой, большой член, темный американец, Ð’Ñ‹Ñокий, хороший парень, никакие уши, женщины любÑÑ‚, which I sort of recognized, but would have to take some time to consider them.
Then his cellular telephone rang, interrupting.
I sighed.
It was obviously his wife, and they were just telling each other how much they loved the other, nothing more than that.
As the caretaker still had the two pieces of paper in his hand, I idly drummed my fingers on the table as he and his wife exchanged verbal trivialities. Why people who’ve been married for a long time have to assure each other of their love and fidelity escapes me; I mean, it’s pretty much a settled issue after more than forty years of marriage.
When he finally got done with all the sweet nothings and hung up his telephone, I reached over for the two sheets of paper.
But the caretaker abruptly got up, the papers still in his hands. “Oops, time to go to another job, boss.â€
Turning over the two sheets of paper, he showed, “The other side’s got my ‘to do’ list written on it, and so I need to take it with me. Later, boss.â€
