Necessary clarification: the man known as Papa Carlo is the organ grinder who once created Buratino (aka Pinocchio), who ran off to wander with Alice the Fox and Basilio the Cat. Out of grief, Papa Carlo took to drinking with the alcoholic carpenter Giuseppe...
A blue haze filled the alleys. The old watchman was locking his shop with a large padlock. From behind the distant houses came the barking of dogs, and high in the darkening sky, flocks of crows cried out in the evening.
- Do you hear, Giuseppe? Do you hear that clatter? Ah-ah-ah, it's them!.. Small and with sharp teeth, they're coming to tear my body apart. My old, sick body. They'll scoop out my insides, they're—they're gouging out my eyes! Do you hear, Giuseppe? They're gouging me out... I'm scared. Aren't you afraid? No, no, you're not afraid, are you? That's right, that's right, my dear Giuseppe—you're afraid of nothing, and you're always there, and you're my only friend. You won't abandon old Carla, will you? I know—no, no, no, you won't abandon me, I know...Somewhere in the distance, the city clock chimed dully. White moonlight flooded the little room. Someone, somewhere, was falling asleep, and from somewhere came the faint sounds of melodies and songs. The little room was dry and cool. Clever Cricket began his monotonous song, but the old man's hot whisper interrupted him.
- O-o-o! And I can hear it already! They're climbing onto the roof—shark-shark, on the tiles so thinly, shark-shark... Do you hear? And now, like hooves, top-top, top-top, clop-clop. Or is it not, or is it? Giuseppe!.. Those are the crows, they are pecking crumbs on the iron roof and carrying them to the crows. Where are the crumbs coming from, where would they come from on the roof?
No! No, I recognize their thin voices - they are squeaking like dozens of hungry little rats. They are the same as little rats - white, yellow, naked... and gluttonous! They are waiting - waiting for you to fall asleep, then they will quietly creep up and pounce! This moon! It is so huge... I wanted to stroke it yesterday, but I almost fell out of the window. It is probably soft, velvety... I love everything soft, you know, Giuseppe... Giuseppe! They are already close! I'm afraid, Giuseppe, I'm afraid. Top-top, clop-clop! What if they come down the chimney? They'll tear apart the painted fireplace and... I'm always afraid, I'm afraid at night. There are a lot of shadows at night, at night they run up from behind and can strike. There are always a lot of them. They're crawling! Fireplace, fireplace! Crawling along the chimney. Small, clinging hands scrape along the tin walls. They're not afraid of the soot. There They are! Giuseppe, help me, help me, friend! There... there, in the cupboard, there's a bottle, there's still some whiskey left, give me a drink, friend, I'm going crazy with fear! If they come in, if... they'll definitely come in?! Aaah! They're looking at me! Already here! Here! Oh, take that! Don't touch me!..
The old man, his eyes wide open, was rolling on the floor; a broken chair lay next to the bed. The crushed cricket was still breathing and twitching its leg. And the shards of the broken mirror reflected Buratino's hallucinogenic eye, inebriated by ecstasy.
©MIKHAIL DMITRIYENKO, 2000, Alma-Ata
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