On the Queen's Path

"Want some tea too?"

Her voice was awful. Simply awful. Distorted, like that of an old hag at the market. I thought I heard a crow dying.

I looked up and stared at her soiled trousers. They weren't anything out of the ordinary. Just normal. Nothing special. I took a drag on my cigarette.

"Yes, please," I replied after a long moment.

My throat was already starting to hurt a little. That was nothing. I knew it would start in a few hours. Now, the remnants of the vodka we'd been drinking at the club and in this kitchen were drowning out the general exhaustion. The remnants of the vodka made everything laughable. This girl, this tiny apartment. The hopelessness of the situation allowed only laughter.

I remembered approaching her as she sat at the table. The boy who had just been clumsily trying to interest her with his stories seemed to have vanished for a moment. She was playing with her blond hair and smoking impatiently. This would be a challenge, I thought. I knew I only had a few minutes. The other one might be back any minute. But the Snow Queen is fast. The fastest in the world.

Without much thought, I approached her. She looked at me with a curious look. My first impression was definitely favorable. How to start a conversation? The Queen helped…

"How do you get your hair so curly?" I blurted out, before I could think. "My sister would like to get it done, maybe I could give her some advice.

" "You just get a perm. Nothing difficult." She looked at me with the slight condescension of a woman discussing matters beyond the comprehension of men.

"So it's easy? And I thought it was some kind of magic."

She smiled prettily. Her blue eyes twinkled like pearls. I thought then that I'd never seen anything so beautiful. Now I couldn't look at her anymore. Her eyes were all red and circled. They were closing on their own. She looked hideous.

The sound of a spoon tapping against a cup interrupted my thoughts.

"I hope I didn't overdo it with the sugar," she said after a moment. She probably meant it to be witty. I pictured sugar and for a split second thought of something very similar. This had been happening to me frequently for the past few weeks. I sniffed reflexively.

I figured generally accepted etiquette would dictate keeping the conversation about sugar going somehow. But I didn't care anymore.

"Can I lie down here?" My thoughts were reduced to only one thing. Sleep. Don't strain yourself. Don't think. Every movement caused me a multitude of embarrassing problems.

"Sure. Do you want to sleep in my room?"

I'd love to tell her to leave me alone. I could even lie down on the table. After a moment, however, it occurred to me that it would be nice to cuddle up to that warm body. To bury my hands in her panties again. And maybe, if I get her moving enough, we could repeat what we spent half the night on?

"I'd love to. I hope your bed is as comfortable as the couch in the kitchen." She took the hint. Apparently, she wasn't that stupid.

"Isn't that enough for you? I don't feel like it. Later at most," she replied, as if she were about bringing a sack of potatoes.

"You must have immediately remembered something. I meant just sleeping."

I was surprised that I still wanted to have these conversations. It's probably out of habit. I replied mechanically, following the pattern I always use. At the club, I'd talked like that for hours, intimidating her and making her laugh. But then I had a wonderful, delicious, and tempting goal before me. Now all that awaited me was a severe hangover, snowy paranoia on the descent, and a long walk home through the noisy suburbs. I linked my dissatisfaction and the headache that was gradually growing with each passing second to that girl.

She was pretty, that's for sure. Even now, battered by vodka and Queen, sleep-deprived, with smudged makeup and blue eyes, you could still see elements of beauty in her. But that wasn't reason to throw everything at her. Absolutely everything. I had nothing left.

I looked at her again, and gratitude for what had happened a few hours ago began to turn to hatred. Hatred for how I felt now.

"Are you surprised that after a night like that, everything reminds me of the same thing in the morning?" She managed another smile.

But to me, that sentence was full of hypocrisy. As if she'd memorized it and tried to say it without understanding.

"So, shall we go upstairs?" "I asked, wanting to show ostentatiously how little I cared about her lack of interest.

"Wait, let's just drink this tea.

I'll have to put up with this idiot for a few more minutes. Watch her fake smile and listen to her shallow, idiotic statements, spoken in an almost sacral tone.

And I was deluding myself that it might be her. That one, purple girl...

What the fuck am I doing? I'm turning into a romantic again. Time to end this. Romanticism is good; it works on girls and spreads their legs, but sometimes it can really get you into a real mess, one that swallows you up very quickly, with no way back. All things that offer miraculous solutions have their dark side. Just like the Snow Queen."

And I thought of her again. It's a shame she's gone. Why did I give that idiot my white gold?! Although I must admit, it was great fun. I remember that when I pulled out the precious bag and placed it on the table, she looked at it with childish curiosity. I probably had the same look when I first saw a naked woman.

"Maybe a little cocaine?" I said, cheerful as a spring chives. She looked at me with a touch of distrust, yet fascination. I knew immediately it would be her first time. I made neat lines on the table, after checking to make sure no one was approaching. And finally, I rolled up the banknote and did just that. Immediately afterward, I handed it to her.

Someone who hasn't experienced this will never understand. You can't explain colors clearly to a blind person, and someone who has never loved will never understand those in love. Similarly, no descriptions could capture even a small percentage of the sensations we experienced after a few moments.

We immediately got up and started dancing. That boy seemed to have completely slipped her mind. Nothing matters when the Queen is on the attack. We embraced, and right after that came the Kissing Phase. Once it starts, you can't stop. It gets more and more enjoyable. That's when we decided to go to her apartment. I knew that if she got into it, it had to end this way. There was no other way.

And then a whole night of wild sex, divine ecstasy. A night I wouldn't trade for the rest of my life. Our bodies were one, and we did it almost without respite. During short breaks, we drank vodka and powdered our noses. The Queen was disappearing at a dizzying pace, but as long as she was there, it didn't even occur to me to worry.

Now she was gone, and the knowledge of that fact drove me crazy. I watched the Sweet Idiot drink her tea, and the whole time I thought about death. Thoughts of death can come at unexpected moments. Especially when my heart, exhausted by the grueling marathon, starts beating irregularly.

When will it find me? Will I know it's coming? Will I know this is the moment? Or will I be thinking about yesterday's dinner, then suddenly collapse dead on the bus, to the astonishment of my fellow passengers?

Once, when I was a baby, I cried all day. The world terrified me; I didn't understand it. As I grew older, I grew accustomed to it and started setting goals for myself. I came to the conclusion that life could be pleasant. But in moments like this, I doubted everything. If I was going to die someday, what was the point of feeling pleasure? Nothing made sense, so why do anything? It was like a devilish wheel spinning on its own. A fucking perpetual motion machine.

She finally finished that damn tea. It was probably the longest tea drinking of my life. And then, while I was already in bed, the strangest thing in the world happened. That blonde made me wonder for a few moments if I was dreaming.

I looked at her wide-eyed with astonishment, not knowing if it was real or just Post-Cocaine Brain Tricks. But no, she really had a bag with a white powder in her hand!!!

It wasn't full, just remnants, but just enough for one line. One Savior Line. She saw my look immediately and understood it. It's funny how people understand each other when it comes to the Queen. I'm sure if I'd been looking at her with amorous eyes, she wouldn't have noticed it at that moment. But she understood that look immediately.

"I saved some yesterday."

I kept looking at her, and I knew I'd be the one receiving the energy. I need to say it right away so she doesn't get her hopes up.

"Good. Maybe this will help me get home somehow."

I immediately saw fear in her eyes. Panic, like a wild animal caught in a trap.

"But I left it for myself yesterday," she said timidly. She was trying to be polite.

"But I gave it to you. There's no point in talking about it, give it to me."

This whole discussion was getting on my nerves. What does she even think she's doing? Not only did I spend a fortune on her, but she won't give me back my property?!

"But I'd like to too. I feel bad.

And why the fuck do I care how she feels?!

"Give it to me right now."

I wanted to end this discussion as quickly as possible. It could lead to unnecessary complications, and the last thing I wanted right now was a pointless argument, the outcome of which was predetermined and which was draining my energy. So I stood up and decisively reached for my bag. But she anticipated this and pulled it away. I didn't expect such a decisive reaction from her; she seemed rather passive. But a person's character depends on the situation, and the Snow Queen changes everything. Every situation is completely different from normal.

I got really angry with her and grabbed her hands. She struggled for a moment, but she didn't stand a chance. A few seconds later, the bag was in my hand, and I thought everything would go smoothly. But once again, I underestimated her.

She lunged at me and started scratching my hands. It's fascinating what a sweet and innocent blonde can sometimes transform into. Like some wild beast, she lunged at me with her claws, possessed by a single thought. However, after the initial surprise, I recovered. I twisted her arm and then sent her sprawling onto the couch with a powerful kick in the back.

She lay motionless for a moment, so I used the moment to routinely prepare the Queen for use. Just as I was finishing and putting the credit card away, the devil showed her claws one last time and, with a loud scream, threw herself at the chair where I was dividing the treasures, knocking them to the floor.

I can't remember the last time I was so furious. No one had ever angered me as much as she did at that moment. I thought I'd simply kill her, beat her to death with my bare hands. I punched her in the face until my palms were red. Then I threw her to the floor and, despite her heartbreaking screams, kicked her in the stomach a few times.

Finally, I stopped. Nothing bad happened. You can always pour the scraps off the floor into one piece.

I lost interest in the girl when I realized she was completely harmless. I took the card and crawled on my knees across the kitchen floor, searching for gold. It didn't cause me much trouble. The specter of Paradise gave me superhuman strength. A moment later, I was lying on the floor with a banknote stuck in my nose, then I stood up.

For the first time in dozens of minutes, I felt truly good. Very good. Very, very good. The number of "very" adverbs I could use to describe my state grew.

I looked at the girl. Blood was pouring from her nose. Maybe I had overdone it a bit? After all, she was a nice, if vapid girl. I quickly grabbed a handkerchief and ran to her. She looked at me dispassionately, as if I didn't exist. She took it from me, and then I saw tears in her eyes.

I felt truly sorry for her. I started stroking her head and apologizing. I whispered sweet nothings in her ear, and finally, I gave her a small kiss. The smile I saw on her face, which filled my body with delight, was the best reward for me.

Finally, I had to say goodbye to her, or I would have lost all my strength on the way home and crawled halfway across town. I waved goodbye and set off, marveling at the candy-colored women I passed on the street, the fluffy clouds in the sky, and the majestic pine trees.

All in all, if I hadn't beaten up that blonde a bit unnecessarily, I would have considered everything perfect. But even with that incident, I have to admit it was a very successful evening. A very, very successful evening. But what happened doesn't matter. Now I have a nice little walk home. A walk along the glittering Queen's Road.