The Final Circle of Paradise

A lump the size of a tennis ball was rising behind my left ear. I weaved badly and walked slowly, keeping close to the fences. Later, I heard the tap of heels behind me and voices: "… Your place is in the museum, not in a cabaret."

"Nothing of the sort, I am not drunk. Can't you und-derstand, only one measly bottle of wine…"

"How disgusting! Soused and picking up a wench."

"What's the girl got to do with it? She is a m-model!"

"Fighting over a wench. Making us fight over her."

"Why in hell d-do you believe them and don't believe me?"

"Just because you're drunk! You're a bum, just like they all are, maybe worse…"

"That's all right. I'll remember that scoundrel with the bracelet quite well… Don't hold me! I'll walk by myself!"

"You'll remember nothing, friend. Your glasses were knocked off in the first instant, and without them, you aren't even a man, but a blind sausage… Stop kicking, or it will be the fountain for you…"

"I'm warning you, one more stunt like that, and we'll throw you out. A drunken kulturfuhrer – it's enough to make you sick."

"Stop preaching at him, give a man a chance to sleep it off."

"Fellows! There he is, the l-louse!"

The street was empty, and the louse was clearly me. I could bend my left arm already, but it hurt like the devil, and I stepped back to let them pass. There were three of them. They were young, in identical caps, pushed over their eyes. One, thickset and low-slung, was obviously amused and held the other one, a tall, open-faced, loose-jointed fellow, with a powerful grip, restraining his violent and sporadic movements. The third, long and skinny, with a narrow and darkish face, was following at some distance with his hands behind his back. As he got alongside me, the loose-jointed one braked determinedly.

The short one attempted to nudge him off the spot, but in vain.

The long one passed by and then stopped, looking back impatiently over his shoulder.

"Thought you were gonna get away, pig!" he yelled drunkenly, attempting to seize me by the chest with his free hand.

I retreated to the fence and said, addressing myself to the short fellow, "I had no business with you."

"Stop being a rowdy," said the distant one sharply.

"I remember you very well indeed," yelled the drunk.

"You're not going to get away from me! I'll get even with you!"

He advanced upon me in surges, dragging the short one, who hung on with bulldog grimness, behind him.

"It's not him," cajoled the low-slung one, who was still very merry. "That guy went off to the shivers and this one is sober."

"You won't fool me."

"I'm warning you for the last time. We are going to expel you."

"Got scared, the bum! Took off his bracelet."

"You can't even see him. You're worthless without your glasses."

"I can see everything pe-erfectly!… And even if he isn't the one…"

"Stop it! Enough is enough!"

The long one finally came back and grasped the drunk from the other side.

"Will you move on!" he said to me with irritation, "Why the devil are you stopping here! Haven't you ever seen a drunk?"

"Oh, no! You aren't going to get away from me."

I continued on my way. I had not far to go by now. The trio dragged along behind me noisily.

"I can see right through him, if you please. King of Nature! Drunk enough to retch, and to beat up whoever comes along. Got beat up himself, and that's all he needs… Let go of me, I'll hang a few good ones on his mug…"

"What have you come to, we have to walk you along like a hood."

"So don't walk me!… I loathe them… Shivers, wenches, whiskey… brainless jelly…"

"Sure, sure, take it easy, just don't fall."

"Enough of your reproofs… I am sick of your hypocrisy, your puritanism. We should blow them up, shoot them! Raze everything off the face of the earth!"

"Drunk as a coot, and I thought he was sobered up!"

"I am sober. I remember everything… the twenty-eighth, right?"

"Shut up, you fool."

"Shh! Right you are! The enemy is on the alert…

Fellows, there was a spy here somewhere… Didn't I talk to him?… The son of a bitch took off his bracelet… but I'll get that dick before the twenty-eighth!"

"Will you be quiet!"

"Shh! And not another word. That's it! And don't worry, the grenade launchers are my baby."

"I am going to kill him right now, the bum!"

"Lay it on the enemies of civilization… Fifteen hundred meters of tear gas – personally… six sectors… awk!"

I was already by the gate to my house. When I turned around to look, the burly man was lying face down, the short one was squatting alongside, while the long fellow stood rubbing the edge of his right hand.

"Why did you do that?" said the short man. "You must have maimed him."

"Enough prattle," said the long one furiously. "We can't seem to learn to stop prattling. We can't learn to stop boozing. Enough!"

Let us be as children, Doctor Opir, thought I, slipping into the yard as quietly as possible. I held the latch to keep it from clicking into place.

"Where did he go?" said the long one, lowering his voice.

"Who?"

"The guy who went ahead of us."

"Turned off somewhere."

"Where? Did you notice?"