Optron #42 12 января 2001

Юмор

Litstranichka - "horror" of the life of the Philological Faculty of Lviv National University. Franko.

  Foreword by Infarha


  You have not forgotten, published in our
Last New Year's issue ("Optron" | 34)
story about the hardships of Kharkiv students?
And who said that in Lviv is worse? We decided to continue the 
theme: this time we offer you the "horror" of the life of the 
Philological Faculty of Lviv National University. Franko. See, 
not all smoothly with them, just like in this story, 
associations arise! We will, however, hoped that the situation 
described in it, is still far from reality.




                  Bribe


  {} Trynova Victoria, 2000

  Translation from Ukrainian - I. Bozhenko


  Yarinka invested in the student's record-book-five dollars and
quietly withdrew from the audience. From behind the door
in the corridor came the monotonous voice:

  "Knight's literature ... novels ... troubadours ... Isolde 
..." 

  She stood a moment, then resolutely
headed for the stairs ... And now she has to
the third floor.

  Suddenly she noticed that throughout
building has a deep, some heavy
silence. She looked around: around - not a soul.
Looked out the window: the area in front of the university, 
usually crowded at any time day, was deserted. One immediately 
went dark, although the clock on the hand showed only only 
three hours of the day. 

  Yarinka on tiptoe, went to high
upholstered with leather double doors and listened: there no 
sound. She pulled the heavy brass handle

and entered into the study.

  In the depths of the room he sat. In not
season of bright summer shirt, white trousers. When a girl's 
teacher History turned his head slightly and stared into her 
eyes. 

  The head was human. She lay on the
table in a dark pool of dried blood. Mechanically Yarinka said 
to himself, Curly white hair and bright lipstick on her lips 
death's head. 

  Finally, the historian said the pale trembling student.

  - You come with nothing? - He asked sternly.

  Yarinka, unable to utter a word,
silent.

  Historian downright blackened and choked
anger. Only now, she said,
that red eye "teaching" burning wild
hatred, and his short cropped hair
stood on end. Historian, opened his fanged mouth, and thence 
clubs smoke. Distinct smell of sulfur.


  - I again ask you: how much do you
brought? - He roared, and the hair pulled away from the table 
the severed head. - Here This, - he shook his head - this has 
brought only ten!


  With these words he took from under the table and
rang out in front of a huge bloody
knife.

  Yarinka wildly screamed and rushed out of the room of death. 
At the doorway hung a sign: 


          HERE are not accepting bribes.

         WE APPRECIATE ONLY KNOWLEDGE!