This story unfolded a few years ago. And I'm sure you've heard of it. However, it was so "a few years" ago that you likely don't remember it. But that's good. Every newspaper and television newscast in the country covered it, each with a slightly different explanation of what happened. Each one dwelt on the subject of a Japanese taxi with a penguin inside. Each newspaper/television station had a slightly different explanation for how this penguin, in what was, for him, a rather exotic vehicle, ended up in the Palace of Culture in Warsaw. And not even on the ground floor.
Unfortunately, each explanation was missing a fundamental element: Stanisław. In the commotion that reigned there, no one even noticed this huddled, frozen history teacher clutching a large bag... And that's a shame, because he held the key to this mystery. But allow me to go back in time a bit with this story and also change the location.
The room was cramped and barely fit the three people inside. They were a member of the Russian government, his bodyguard, and Sergei. It's funny, but there's always a curious pattern among high-ranking officials... No matter how cramped and uncomfortable it might be, no matter how ridiculous it might seem... They'll always sit at a large desk that could easily serve as a runway for an entire bomber squadron. And that was the case this time. The official barely fit at the desk, and the bodyguard practically stood on it, ensuring everyone could fit comfortably into the room. And the idea was to make the right impression on Sergei...
And who was Sergei? Oh! The best assassin in Russia! No one could execute a mission like him. He always succeeded, even when it was a foregone conclusion that it was a suicide mission. If it weren't for the fact that he was a Russian in the employ of the Russian government, I'd say he was a true American. Because aren't they just like the ones we know from television...?
But how was it that he never even got a scratch? He never even had a tiny piece of a fingernail broken off. Never. But it's better not to ask about such things. Sometimes it's simply better not to know, because those who are too inquisitive come to bad ends... This was Sergei's principle, which is why he only had an elementary education.
But once, someone was inquisitive enough and asked Sergei directly how he did it.
"How do you do it?" he asked, as I've already mentioned.
"If I tell you, I'll have to kill you," he said in his usual dispassionate voice.
"Fine," the interlocutor replied. He was sure it was one of those lines modeled on those ridiculous capitalist movies.
"I'm immortal," and then shot him.
From this dialogue, we can deduce two very important things, which a reader like you surely picked up on: Firstly, Sergei was immortal, and secondly, he always told the truth.
And how did he become immortal? I don't know... It's probably one of those jokes of Mother Nature, who gave Americans the largest country in the world but took away their minds. She could be really funny sometimes....
"We have another assignment for you, Comrade Sergei. You are to kill an exorcist called Stanislav.
" "But I always work alone"—he could never understand this plural form of address.
"What?"—the politician was clearly baffled.
"I say I work alone. Besides, there's no one else here, so addressing a few people...
" "I know there's only one of you!" he addressed rather ungrammatically.
"Us? Oh, I get it...
" "Never mind. This Western-capitalist social enemy of the working class... what am I talking about..." – as you can see, the politician wasn't fond of Russian customs, which involved stretching sentences into infinity. – Oh yes! Well, he committed the act of hindering the resurrection of the eternally living… – he pondered the meaning of resurrecting something eternally living – the act of AWAKENING the eternally living Comrade Lenin. For that, he must die!
Sergei didn't ask any more questions. In fact, he never liked them. Questions – what good are they to anyone?
Meanwhile, in Poland, in the city where Stanisław lives…
He was sitting at the table and reading the letter. For the second time. Not that he hadn't understood it the first time, or anything like that… But it was simply a special letter. A letter of congratulations. A letter praising what he had accomplished. He had stopped the Russians from awakening Lenin and occupying Poland for what must have been the hundredth time in the history of our glorious homeland. And on top of that, he had received a second commission… He had always known he couldn't support himself on a teacher's salary, and everything pointed to him having just found himself a side job. Exorcisms and things like that. Dangerous, but oh so well paid! The letter said he had to go to Warsaw immediately, to the Palace of Culture and Science. To the top floor, where some nasty demon had apparently taken up residence. Just a simple errand. He packed his things and headed for the train....
Meanwhile, at the North Pole...
He padded to the nearest snow mound. He examined it, and when he was sure it was safe, he threw himself at it. Because with snow mounds, you never know. From what he knew from his parents, throwing yourself into a snow mound that suddenly turned out to be a polar bear mound ended badly eleven times out of ten. He wasn't good at math—like any penguin—but the statistics showed clearly enough that this happened often.
He ran to the second snow mound and did the same. He simply loved it. You, the reader, might find it boring... But if you were to spend your entire life where it was constantly frosty and everything was white, you would probably also derive incredible joy from such mundane things as jumping into piles of snow.
He ran to the next pile, passing something yellow along the way, which had just appeared and... He stopped. Something yellow? [I call this the color yellow because we know it. The penguin, on the other hand, thought: "Something not white?"] He was almost certain it wasn't there. Perhaps one of those non-white bears his grandparents had told him about? Maybe they really existed, and this wasn't just a tale told by old men who, that fateful summer, had feasted on fish from the lake where bears pee [penguins don't know that bear urine has hallucinogenic properties. Really]. Nevertheless, he hid behind a pile of snow and watched it.
The door opened, and a Japanese man burst out into the snow (of course, the penguin didn't know this either), then started shouting something in his own language. I won't repeat what he shouted, as I don't speak it. He ran around a bit, throwing snow into the air as if he'd never seen it before, then threw himself into a snowdrift. And at that moment, a few things happened.
First, the sleeping polar bear began to wake up, as something very noisy was keeping him awake. Second, the Japanese man, hitting the snowdrift, realized that it definitely wasn't a snowdrift. Third, the bear felt really angry when something hit his back. Fourth, the Japanese man was eaten by the bear. This is how snow fun ends when you weren't trained as a child to recognize masked polar bears...
*****
For Stanisław, the trip to the capital went by very quickly. The key was choosing the right compartment to avoid grumpy people. Now, however, he still had to do some shopping, so he went to one of the hypermarkets where, supposedly, you could buy everything. And indeed, it was a true paradise for people who needed to buy a lot of things they'd never actually use.
Sergei wasn't so lucky. He didn't usually travel by train, so he had no experience choosing the right compartment. He chose the one carrying a mother and child, a nun, and some punk. It was an explosive combination. The child started crying, the mother tried to soothe him, and the punk listened to music supposedly with headphones, but it was so loud it might as well have been blasting from the speakers. The journey wasn't pleasant at all. It was probably only a miracle that he didn't murder everyone...
After about twenty hours, he got off at the platform in Warsaw. It was dirty. It stank. He felt right at home. He headed to the restroom to change his sweaty T-shirt. To his luck, the punk in his compartment had also gone there. Maybe he'd unwind from the journey with him...
His undershirt was a bit bloody, but he was going to change it anyway, so it wasn't a problem. He emerged from the restroom.
"Hey! Sir!" someone called out.
"Excuse me?" he turned to a homeless man sitting against the wall.
"Would you like to put in a few złoty?
" "No.
" "Why?
" "Why should I put in?" and then headed for the exit.
The homeless man began to ponder the question. It was perfectly apt. He'd prepared hundreds of answers to things like "because I don't have any." But this was the first time he'd been asked such a question... He didn't know yet, but it was a turning point in his life. In about half an hour, he'd come up with an idea for solving the problem of world hunger. And thanks to this idea, the human condition on Earth would improve, and he would become a millionaire... Or rather, it could be, because right after running out of the station, he would be hit by a car and killed instantly. Life can be funny... ha, ha, ha.
Meanwhile, at the North Pole...
The polar bear had wandered off to another part of the icy wasteland, hoping to get some sleep there. Besides, that funny yellowish penguin seemed to be hard to digest. And too wiry. He remembered when he was young. Back then, there were penguins...
Meanwhile, our little friend, who had been waiting for the bear to leave, ran up to the taxi in his penguin-like way. He peeked inside. It was warm and there were lots of twinkling things, and penguins simply love twinkling things. Of course, no one knew about this, because there are no twinkling things at the North Pole, so no one had seen how a penguin could stare at something like that for hours. This one had just the intention: to go inside and watch.
Meanwhile, two more penguins ran up and went inside. They, too, liked it when something winked so charmingly. However, all three disliked one thing – sharing such wonderful experiences. One accidentally slammed the door, the second pushed the third, who fell on a button. The taxi disappeared.
Stanisław had always wanted to ride a tram, but unfortunately, there weren't any in his city. Now, however, he could catch up. So he boarded one, hoping for a good time. And the fun was supposed to be great...
"Ticket for inspection," someone asked from behind.
"Here," Stanisław handed him his.
"Oh, that's not good... It's a ticket with a sheep on it.
" "Excuse me?" Our main character felt disconcerted.
"A ticket with a lamb. I mean, the September one. Now it's October. Tickets with cows are required. The spotted ones, please don't confuse them with the ones without the patches. Those tickets were valid in May.
" "And I was stupid, I wanted to take a ticket with a turkey..." Stanisław sneered.
"Oh no! Those were in June... But a big turkey or a small one?" The word "irony" was clearly foreign to him.
"It doesn't matter," Stanisław turned his back on him.
"I haven't finished!" "There will be a fine!
" "These young people today!" an old woman said. The fact that Stanisław was in his thirties didn't matter. To her, Napoleon must have been a youngster too...
A discussion broke out throughout the tram about Stanisław, who had a ticket with a lamb.
"And those shoes! Those shoes!" someone repeated so everyone could see. "Who wears those?! That was fashionable two years ago!"
And the criticism of his outfit began. A moment later, the entire carriage was criticizing him. The outfit, the hairstyle, the look, etc. As soon as the tram stopped, Stanisław quickly jumped out into the street. He'd heard that people in the capital were strange, but he hadn't even suspected they were this strange. They considered everyone worse. However, his horror wasn't over yet. Some people jumped out after him and began criticizing him for being such a coward. He took off running. They followed. People from the street began joining in, taking the opportunity to criticize their neighbors. It seemed this was the entertainment of the entire capital:
"Honey, shall we go to the theater today?" his wife said.
"Or maybe we should go for a walk and hope the crowd will criticize some non-local?"
Sad, but very close to the truth.
In any case, Stanisław didn't have time to dwell on such matters. He was running. The capital was chasing him and wasn't about to give up easily. Not when they were chasing someone in light-colored shoes, which were completely out of fashion these days.
"Idiot! He runs like a duck!" shouted an old man.
Stanisław sped on. He turned into a side street, but it wasn't enough to confuse the hungry crowd. The old man who had been shouting at him collapsed into the bushes. He'd had a heart attack. And it served him right. Meanwhile, our quarry had turned into the public restroom.
"You have to...help me...They're chasing me!
" "Poor man...I understand you. I wasn't from here once either.
" "Will you help me?" he asked with hope in his voice.
"You see... I've lived here for twenty years... I'm one of them. HE'S HERE!"
A man jumped back from the urinal and started screaming. He didn't know who he was talking to, but he knew he should criticize. Stanisław quickly jumped out of the restroom to escape. Suddenly, he saw a taxi parked outside. Funny, because he was sure it hadn't been there before... But never mind. Hope had appeared, so he quickly got inside and ordered them to drive as fast as possible and as far away from here as possible.
The taxi pulled away, and after a moment, Stanisław had the strength to look around. This vehicle was strange. So... oriental. The driver, however, either loved wearing a tailcoat to work or...
"A penguin!" Stanisław shouted.
He knew immigrants from all over the world flocked to Warsaw, but penguins? And not just one, because there were more of him. Three times as many, to be exact. One to drive, one to pedal, and one to shift gears. But who the hell gave them driving licenses?!
"Stop! Stop! I'll take a walk..."
He didn't know how, but the penguins understood him. Stanisław got out and headed for the taxi rank. He'd take one without the penguins. Not that he had anything against them... He really liked them. But he liked them when they were on TV or at the zoo, not when they became full citizens of his country.
Meanwhile, the taxi pulled up to the station where Sergei happened to be standing. He decided to take a taxi to the Palace and wait for Stanisław to arrive. How did he know this would happen? Because it was an ambush. And ambushes usually involved long waits and freezing cold. And drinking copious amounts of coffee and smoking several packs of cigarettes, even if he wasn't smoking. Just to keep the stereotype alive.
Sergei got in and gave his directions. When he looked at the driver, he saw... a penguin. Well... that's what happens when a country becomes too Westernized... Another fad that came from America. But the penguins drove quite safely... if, of course, you consider running red lights, driving against traffic, and riding on the sidewalk normal. In short, they drove like real Warsaw taxi drivers.
The taxi arrived at the Palace quite quickly, as passersby, without much complaint, swerved out of the way of the speeding vehicle. Sergei paid and got out. Two penguins followed him. They clearly wanted to explore this beautiful and unknown world. They had the soul of true explorers! Like Christopher Columbus... or maybe they simply needed to pee and weren't used to doing it where they were sitting. And that was the truth. However, as soon as they left, the taxi disappeared...
They were alone in a strange place. So what could they do? First, pee, and that's what they did. Second, try to find their way home. Luckily, the bus they boarded had just arrived.
Silence fell on the bus. No doubt everyone sensed a golden opportunity to mock the outsiders. Everyone stared at the pair of penguins like a lion staring at an antelope, or an insurance salesman who's stumbled upon someone rich and foolish... Yet somehow, no one could start making fun of these two. What could you say to a penguin? How could you mock it? Finally, a well-worn old lady broke the ice:
"What disgusting beaks!"
And an avalanche began... That day, the penguins rode a bus for the first and last time. It wasn't that they cared about the insults. They didn't even understand them... But they didn't like blood. And that day, three people died on the bus, and two others were seriously injured. To this day, it's unknown how. The police later ruled that someone had tried to throw a sock at the penguins, but it hit an old man who threw his stick away, triggering a real fight. Fortunately, the penguins didn't see it coming, as they got off at the next stop.
In any case, Sergei arrived at his destination. He decided to stand somewhere to the side to avoid being noticed. However, he didn't know he was being watched. And by whom? By one of Them. They are in every city, though no one knows their names. Ordinary men, in ordinary, inconspicuous clothes. Standing at monuments, at train stations, and other places where there are many visitors. He spotted Sergei and moved toward him.
"Ju spik Engliż?" he asked. "Whi, Whi? Da? Niet? Wo wons du? Do you understand me?
" "Go away!" he said, lighting a cigarette. "I don't have time!
And that was his mistake! As soon as one of them realized you were speaking one of the languages he knew [in that respect, they were undoubtedly Renaissance men], he wouldn't let up until he got his way.
"Maybe postcards of the Palace? Yes, yes? Or a souvenir photo, yes, yes?"
And he began listing everything he owned. And it had to be admitted that it was impressive how many different things he managed to stuff into that unassuming jacket. He even had bird food and a kangaroo trap ["You never know when some Australian will show up. They're not stupid, of course, and they know there are no kangaroos here! But what if one comes with HIS kangaroo? And let's say that kangaroo runs away? And he'll try to catch it? Oh, I'm not stupid! I prefer to be ready for anything!"].
Sergei couldn't get rid of him. Finally, he agreed to exchange the złoty he already had for rubles, which in turn were dollars, which he exchanged for marks, which he then exchanged for złoty. He started the exchange with two hundred złoty, and at the end, he was left with a ten-zł bill. He was about to file a complaint, but the man disappeared as quickly and unnoticed as he had appeared. Besides, he had just noticed Stanisław entering the Palace. Time to act.
Stanisław reached the Palace of Culture and Science without any major problems. Every time he asked a Varsovian how to get there, they would add what a magnificent building it was. Many compared it to the Statue of Liberty or other equally magnificent buildings. However, when he arrived, he found the building... simply ugly and tasteless. He preferred not to say those words aloud.
The palace might have been ugly, but there was one thing you couldn't fault. It wasn't low. And that fact can only be appreciated when the only way to the top is by stairs.
"What do you mean the elevator isn't working?!" Stanisław exclaimed indignantly. "I saw that man just get in it and go up!
" "Well, it was working then. And now it's broken.
" "But I see those lights above it are blinking! So someone's going up!
" "Well, it's broken... it only goes up...
" "But that's where I want to go! Up!
" "But it would have to go down. And it's broken..."
Stanisław gave up further conversation, as it would get him nowhere. And the truth was, the elevator was working. However, whenever he sensed that someone from out of town wanted to go up, he told him to take the stairs. And he didn't do that because he was being mean... He simply believed that this way they would better appreciate the city's charms, and besides, they would appreciate the height of the building.
So our brave main character and his secondary tormentor, or future torturer, set off upstairs. Of course, Sergei followed several flights behind him to avoid being noticed. He spent the time climbing counting money. He was sure there was a perfectly logical explanation for why he had ten złoty left in his wallet. However, no matter how he calculated it, no matter what exchange rate he used, it still turned out he'd been ripped off.
After about fifteen minutes [Stanisław's condition wasn't the best... as usual in such moments, he promised himself what everyone promises themselves—starting tomorrow, he'd start running and exercising every morning]. As soon as he stepped onto the observation deck, he realized something was wrong. But at that moment, Sergei also stepped onto the roof.
"Ha-ha!" he said, as secondary villains are wont to do.
"I'm not amused," Stanisław stated calmly.
"Excuse me?" Sergei felt taken aback.
"You laughed. I'm not amused by this situation."
"But it wasn't an ordinary laugh... It's the kind that heralds triumph, dear sir.
" "But what's there to triumph about? Getting to the roof?
" "No, about being killed right now." Stanislav looked surprised, so Sergei felt obliged to add, "Ha-ha!
" "Not so fast... Know, dear stranger, that if you try to kill me, I'll defend myself. And you might die.
" "No, because I have a knife. Ha-ha!" He reached into his pocket and... didn't find the knife. Apparently, one of them wasn't just focused on his money and the currency exchange.
"Can you stop laughing? Maybe we can talk it over, sort it out. Know that I abhor violence..."
Sergei, however, charged at him. Stanislav defended himself as best he could, but he didn't have as much combat experience as his enemy. After all, he'd only been an exorcist for a short time. After a brief scuffle, he was caught by Sergei. The latter decided to throw him over the railing and thus stage a suicide. After all, if in this country it was considered possible to commit suicide by shooting oneself in the back, perhaps they would consider a bruised corpse a suicide. However, at that moment, something truly strange happened. Right in front of him materialized... a taxi with a penguin inside! In his shock, he let go of Stanislav, who decided there was no time to waste wondering. He quickly dived into his bag and pulled out his crossbow. He fired. He hit Sergei in the chest. Apparently, playing darts in bars during his studies had paid off. Apparently, he'd learned something during his studies.
"Ha-ha!" Sergei said again. This was getting irritating. "I'm immortal!" You won't kill me with this.
As it turned out, it was true. Sergei had ripped the arrow out, and the wound healed on its own. And Stanislav had already thought he'd simply watched Western movies where Russians who get hit in the head with something really heavy act as if nothing had happened. This posed a technical problem. Because, as the name suggests, you can't kill an immortal. Which doesn't mean you can't stun them and then consider what to do.
So Stanislav threw the entire crossbow, aiming for their head. He hit it. Sergei fell to the ground. Well, now he had a moment to consider what to do. The door slammed, so someone had seen him throw the crossbow and would probably call the police. Well, it's hard to say. In any case, it was good that he was gone by then.
He could have left Sergei, but then, soon, he would probably have been attacked by him again. He had to think. It would be best if he found a way to get him out of here, and then somehow immobilize him....
"Ha-ha!" Stanislav said this time.
He reached into the bag he'd brought and pulled out a saw. He then sliced Sergei apart. He severed his head and limbs, stuffing everything into the bag.
Well, Sergei might be immortal, but his limbs certainly didn't grow back. All he had to do was bury them all, each part in a different place, and everything would be alright.
He heard police cars approaching. And a moment later, the sound of an elevator going up.
"I knew the scoundrel was lying!" It was just a shame he had to prove it this way.
So he had no escape route left. The stairs below were probably guarded by police. In a flash of inspiration, he jumped into a taxi. The moment the elevator doors opened and five policemen burst onto the terrace, the taxi carrying the penguin and Stanisław disappeared. The penguin was kind enough to drive them right up to Stanisław's house. In return, Stanisław gave him a few fish, and the taxi vanished, leaving Stanisław holding the bag.
He went into the garden and poured out all the pieces of Sergei.
"So will you at least tell me your name?" Stanisław asked.
Sergei remained silent.
"Then I'll call you Fred. It's a nice name.
" "My name isn't Fred, it's Sergei!" he said, his head failing.
"You know what? I'd bury you whole. Every piece somewhere else would have spent eternity anyway, but I don't have the heart, and I've always wanted a roommate. I'll keep your head, Fred, and you'll live with me.
" "My name isn't..." he began.
Stanisław carried him home so he wouldn't see where his remains were buried. He still had to be placed so he wouldn't roll away. Our brave history teacher took an old pickle jar, stuck his head inside, and then went to bury the body parts.
That's how Sergei met Stanisław, and vice versa. From then on, they were to remain together forever, and eventually become friends. From that moment on, neither of their lives would ever be the same.
And what about the taxi, you ask? Well... I know exactly what happened to it and what happened to the brave little penguin. Believe me, it's a truly incredible story... But for another time. Be patient, and you'll get to experience it someday...
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