INCIDENT ON CUR STREET - Cam Post

Tuesday, July 24, 2018

INCIDENT ON CUR STREET

as it befell, Alexander Golts got here out of the vaudeville show and arrived at the rendez-vous exactly one half of-hour early. As he waited for the item of his love, he ran his eyes over every skirt mincing throughout the road, and impatiently tapped his cane on a wooden field. He waited in misery and passion, darkly positive of the final results. And every so often, smiling as he remembered the past, he notion that perhaps things might work out simply fine in spite of everything.


nighttime fell. Cur street, as narrow as a crevasse, was misted over with a cloud of golden dust as cooking smells wafted out of dirty windows, sending the stench of scorched meals and damp laundry through the air. green grocers and ragmen walked down the road, hoarsely shouting out their wares. sometimes gradual-shifting men fell out the door of the beer hall. once they came out, they first sought a few guide, then sighed, shoved their hats right down to their noses and walked off with exaggeratedly regular steps, wavering between grim and completely happy.

“hello!”

Alexander Golts’ entire frame shuddered. He became around. She stood earlier than him in a casual pose, as if she’d juststopped for a 2d and could instantly be off. Her darkish, energetic face with its unhappy appearance and whimsically cocked eyebrows prevented Golts’ eye. She checked out the human beings passing with the aid of.

“My pricey!” Golts stated in a traumatic however affectionate voice after which stopped.

She became to stand him and nonchalantly swept her eyes over his brilliant tie, the feather in his hat, his easily shaved and barely trembling chin. He was still hoping for something; we’ll see approximately that.

“I…” Golts whispered some thing and began to chunk at his lip. Then he thrust his hand into his pocket, pulled out a scrap of an commercial and tossed it away.

“If I may additionally…” At this, his hand touched the rim of his hat. “So it’s throughout among us?”

“It’s throughout,” the female echoed. “Why did you want to look me?”

“more… for no motive,” Golts stated forcefully. His head swam with grief. He progressed and then, to his wonder, took her skinny, contemptuously obedient hand after which right away permit it pass.

“6dcae44b5bb0ed8decf5315a8a4ccfbc,” he stated, squeezing out the phrase, as heavy as a mountain. “Are you leaving quickly?

Now someone else turned into speaking for him even as he listened, paralyzed by way of this agonizing nightmare.

“the next day.”

“I’ve nonetheless got your umbrella.”

“i purchased some other. 6dcae44b5bb0ed8decf5315a8a4ccfbc.”

She slowly nodded at him after which left. The container proved to be sturdier than Golts’ cane; the fragile ivory itemshattered into little pieces. He stared in the back of the woman’s head as she walked away, however she by no means as soon as grew to become around. Then a coalman sporting a large basket obstructed his view of her. a bit of her hat glimpsed from across the corner — and that became all.

Golts went via the doorways of the closest restaurant. inner it become full of noise and people; slanted rays of iridescent sunshine quivered in bottles status like soldiers. Golts sat down at an empty desk and shouted, “Garcon!”

a deferential however impersonal guy in a grimy shirtfront ran up to Golts and smacked the dirt off the table.

Golts ordered.

“A bottle of vodka.”

when he turned into given his order, he poured a tumbler, sipped and spit it out. angry sparks flashed in his eyes and he snorted furiously.



“Garcon!” Golts shouted. “I didn’t order water, for God’s sake! dispose of this liquid — there’s masses in any water barrel. convey me vodka! Make it speedy!”

everybody inside the bar, even the maximum phlegmatic purchaser, jumped out of their seats and surrounded Golts. The waiter, stunned, swore that there was actual vodka within the bottle. within the fashionable turmoil as all the customerssipped a bit little bit of water to make sure that Golts became right, a brand new sealed bottle turned into delivered to the desk. The insulted and pouting proprietor of the café, locating himself in an uncertain and ugly position, removed the cork himself. He cautiously poured a pitcher of the liquid with arms that trembled nervously. Out of pride he didn’t need to flavor it, however suddenly, overcome with doubt, he sipped. He spit it out. there has been water within the bottle.

playing himself and quietly guffawing, Golts persevered to ask for vodka. there was an tremendous racket. The proprietor, his face waxy with fear, grew to become backward and forward as though searching for safety. a few peopleshouted that the eating place proprietor became a criminal and that they ought to name the police. Others stoutly insisted that the swindler here turned into Golts. a few spiritual sorts concept of the devil; their little brains, terrified all their lives, refused to offer any clarification that become now not related with the All-mighty.

Panting from heat and nerves, the owner said, “Forgive me… honest to God, i can’t imagine how this occurred. I don’t realize some thing approximately it –– depart me be. Holy mother of God! I’ve been serving it for twenty years! 20 years!”

Golts stood up and patted the fats man on the shoulder.

“My pricey guy,” he introduced as he placed on his hat. “I don't have any complaints. Your bottles are most truly made from mesh –– it’s no wonder that the alcohol evaporated. 6dcae44b5bb0ed8decf5315a8a4ccfbc!”

As he left he didn’t turn around, but he knew that in the back of him mouths have been falling open in amazement.

From the instant Golts went outdoor, the outline of the historian (whose testimony I used to jot down all of the textual content above and beneath) strongly contradicts the testimony of the butcher. The butcher asserted that the atypicalyoung guy headed to the bakery and asked for a pound of rusks. The historian, whose call i will now not display at his request however whose face is, in any case, extra first rate than the face of the butcher, swears that he started to promoteeggs subsequent to the antique girl on the corner of Cur avenue and Blind guy’s Lane.

This contradiction, but, does now not significantly alternate the import of what passed off, and so i'm able to prevent into the bakery. Golts opened the door, appeared internal and saw a crowd. people from all walks of existence, antiqueparents, kids and women driven at the back of him, discretely gesturing and mentioning the strange guy who had scandalized the tavern owner. They were on his heels like a percent of puppies, driven by means of a sort of frenzied curiosity blended a black fear borne of lack of know-how. Golts frowned, shrugged and then immediately burst out laughing. allow them to puzzle it out — it turned into his final, fantastical amusement.

So he walked up to the counter and asked for a pound of sugar-covered rusks. The bakery stuffed up with clients. all people requested for this or that whether or not they needed it or not and hungrily stared at the stern, stone-faced Golts. He appeared now not to notice them.

The voice of the shop assistant cut through the thick haze of anxiety.

“Sir, what on earth goes on?”

The weighing pan of the scale, stuffed to the brim with rusks, did not weigh extra than the one-pound weight. The salesgirl stretched out her hand and yanked down the chain of the burden pan, but the different pan didn’t even budge.

Golts laughed and shook his head, however his laughter become the remaining drop within the bystanders’ cup of worry. They ran off, pushing and shrieking. Little boys caught inside the doorways cried out as though they’d been stabbed. the store assistant stood there, at a loss, florid with worry.

Golts went out once more, slamming the door so hard that the glass rattled. He wanted to break something, break some thing, hit the primary guy he saw. Stumbling, with a light, bloated face, his hat pulled down over one ear, he gave the look of a lunatic. it might have been higher for the old woman if he hadn’t observed her. He took an egg from her basket, broke the shell and pulled out a gold coin. “Oh my!” the astonished woman cried out, and her cry changed into picked up and carried with the aid of the crowd blocking the street: “Ohhhh!”

Golts right away stepped away and rummaged around in his pocket. What turned into he seeking out?

The people status across the vintage female shrieked, some sputtering with laughter, others with inane curses. It becamesurely something to look. historic, greedy fingers frantically cracked egg after egg. Their contents flowed onto the roadand coagulated into shiny patches inside the dust. however there wasn’t gold in another egg. Out of her toothless mouth came a torrent of senile cursing, because the people surrounding her held their bellies, howling with laughter.

Golts walked to the rectangular. He took a gun — sure, a gun — out of his pocket and, with preternatural calm, put the barrel as much as his temple. The faded feather of the hat that had disappeared around the corner haunted him. He pulled the cause. The boom of the shot punched thru the night quiet, and a corpse fell to the earth, warm and twitching.

humans had saved a polite distance from the living man, but they raced over to the useless one. but became he absolutely only a guy? became he really lifeless? The air buzzed with questions and exclamations. A note found in Golts’ pocket became very well mentioned. Over a skirt? think of that! a man who bowled over the complete avenue, who evoked callow pleasure in a few and livid indignation in others, who terrified kids and girls, who pulled gold out of regionin which it had no business being — that guy killed himself over a skirt? Ha ha! What’s so sudden about that?

The graveside speeches over Golts’ frame have been spoken right then and there, on the road, with the aid of the tavern owner and the vintage female. The latter shrieked happily, “Charlatan!”

The tavern-proprietor spit out with candy spite, “So there!”

The men on the street went off maintaining arms with their better halves or enthusiasts. It changed into an extraordinaryguy who didn’t love his female at that moment and tighten his grip on her hand. that they had what the useless mandidn’t — their fingers around someone’s waist. of their eyes he turned into helpless and pathetic, and so what if he had a few unique traits; in the end he was unhappy — oh, how pleasant, how delightful, how indescribably delightful!

don't have any doubt — all and sundry turned into glad. and like stamping out a smoldering suit in a timber house, they positioned out the concept in their minds: “however maybe… maybe… he wanted some thing more?”

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