BAD TOYS

They'd become buddies ever since their teacher had the brilliant idea—in his opinion, of course—to seat them at the same desk. He hoped the constantly troublesome boy would improve his disciplinary skills under the influence of his neighbor, who radiated calm. Arek helped his neighbor with the backlog of work that had accumulated during his truancy and Tomek's obsession with playing pranks on everyone around him. The diligent student didn't even notice when his monotonous existence had transformed and changed its flavor. From a daily breakfast of gruel washed down with milk, it transformed into a spicy pizza seasoned with crazy ideas, and when everything dried out, they'd wash it down with beer during long breaks, their heads buzzing with the sheer volume of impressions. But the hangover, surprisingly, passed quickly and left less and less remorse.

Unfortunately, their school life, full of missteps and ridiculous situations, was brutally interrupted. The budding friendship was disrupted by the high school principal. Tomek was expelled from school a few weeks before his final exams for smoking pot and groping his classmates in the school restroom. The well-behaved students, who hadn't had the pleasure of meeting a "marijuana" friend, thought they were smoking high-quality cigarettes and had completely abandoned the good manners instilled in them since childhood. Arek was with them, but as usual, he stayed on the sidelines. He preferred to watch as the innocent girls in their plaid skirts lost their sense of shame and descended to the ground floor. They knelt like sex priestesses before Tomek's exposed phallus, in clouds of blue smoke, filled with adoration and reverence for his upturned majesty. They were very surprised that the principal, who occasionally raided the women's restroom, didn't acknowledge their cult and instead caused a school-wide outcry.

Arek received a reprimand for his peeping. He didn't regret it, it was worth it, and he'd gladly repeat it again; the mere memory made his cheeks burn. Tomek took the blame—it had been his idea, after all—and accepted the Board of Education's verdict without remorse. They saw each other less and less, even after high school. Finally, Tomek decided he had to leave, as far away as possible from his father, who had forced him to work in a slaughterhouse. A legacy from his ancestors, who had on their conscience countless creatures long since digested and stored away in the guts of a city of several million people. They last saw each other at the train station in Krakow.

Everyone marveled at how such different personalities could be friends. Arek—or Szary, as that was his nickname—was the polar opposite of Omen; even their nicknames testified to this. When his parents learned of the Board of Education's decision, they attended Mass and thanked God for saving their son from Satan in human form. They were certain that this horned devil, the Antichrist from hell, wanted to bring about eternal damnation for their innocent child.

Arek graduated from high school with good grades. He studied out of boredom and stopped skipping school. He slowly rebuilt his tarnished reputation among teachers. He became a gray mouse and a diligent student again. After his final exams, he was overcome by an inner emptiness and outer boredom. The brutal separation from his friend hurt, and he felt as if someone had slammed the door in his face, sealing off the entrance to another world full of dangerous traps but also fascinating secrets. Finally, the long-awaited vacation arrived, and instead of relaxing on a hot beach among chocolate-colored sunbathers in tight suntanners, he was studying for his university entrance exams. He had some doubts about university, but the mere mention of its name filled his parents with a religious ecstasy bordering on soaring ecstasy. He couldn't bring himself to interrupt their blissful state. Sometimes he was overcome by an irresistible desire to escape from the gray everyday life - somewhere far away, away from the annoying problems and exams in subjects that, over the long years of school existence, haunted teachers had created the centers of parallel worlds. In moments like these, he would cheer himself up by quoting a poem, his favorite:

sometimes I feel like running away to the end of the world,

as far and as far away as possible, so many interesting

places around, someday I hope to start all over again as soon as possible and even faster, so much time is left, I often feel like punching someone in the face as hard and as hard as possible, so many opportunities have been lost, now I have the desire to take you on a journey as deep and as deep as possible, so many of us have slept through our time , and there's no time to wake up... One boring day, the phone rang while he was studying topics often covered in entrance exams, concerning the merits of the Holy Inquisition in light of the political realities of the time and the crusades organized in the Middle Ages, which promoted European culture and chivalry among primitive Arab nations. A familiar voice rang cheerfully through the receiver. "Hi, Szary! It's me, Tomek! " "Hi, Omen!" I had to wait a long time for your call. I thought you'd ignored me. "Well, come on! Szary!" I didn't call because I was sure you'd gone to Bermuda. And you're stuck in Krakow like a beefcake? It's vacation time! Arek decided not to admit that instead of relaxing on a beach somewhere, swinging on his unpampered buttocks, sun-warmed brown, he was studying for an entrance exam for a university Tomek didn't even know existed. He preferred not to answer the question and changed the subject. "And you, Omen! Where have you been, you idiot without a high school diploma? " "No, you idiot! I've been here and there. I'll tell you about it when you visit me in Zakopane. By the way, get yourself a monster mask."

"A monster? What are you up to?

" "I'm telling you, I've struck gold. We'll make easy money and let him off the hook painlessly. Look for a costume in Father's warehouse. It just has to be scary. The stool's supposed to run away in fear," he cackled for a long time, pleased with the disgusting joke.

"Omen, what costume?!" Arek couldn't understand what his friend was talking about. "Speak plainly! Don't lie, or I'll get constipated!

" "Don't you know what Halloween is? I'm sure you'll find something.

" "Oh, I see... Wait... I can get you a wolf costume. I saw something like that at my old man's job.

Father worked as a warehouseman at the Bagatela Theatre, and sometimes Arek would sit among all sorts of props from plays that had already been canceled. Recently, a wolf head caught his eye. He even dressed up as a fairy-tale villain for fun. The mask was exceptionally realistic, and after examining it closely, he determined it was made from the head of a real wolf.

"Okay!" Tomek shouted thoughtfully, rousing Arek from his reverie. "That's fine! Take this werewolf and catch the train. It leaves Krakow at 2 p.m., you'll be there by 5 p.m..

" "What about today?

" "And when, you idiot?" A characteristic laugh filled with mockery rang out from the other end of the line.

"I can't take an omen. I'm supposed to go on a trip with my parents tomorrow," Arek explained with shame, already anticipating what he was about to hear.

"Ouch... You've lost your mind, Szary. It was enough that I was gone for these past few weeks, and you're an unrecognizable mama's boy. You want to spend your vacation with the limericks? Have you no shame, man?"

A deafening silence fell, the question hanging in the air like a hangman's axe over a condemned man. Arek struggled with himself for a moment. He promised his parents he'd go with them to Lordes, where he'd pray for a successful future and to pass his exams, but as usual, he couldn't refuse his friend.

"Okay, Omen. I'll come!

" "It was the right decision! Take care, Szary. I'll be waiting for you at the station." Tomek hung up the phone. Relief was palpable in his voice.

"So... See you... Omen..."

Arek's face grew sad as he realized the inevitable conversation awaiting him with his parents, and as if that weren't enough, he had to have it today.

The train ride drowned out the remorse and the bad taste he left at home. His parents couldn't understand how Zakopane could be more attractive than Lordes in France, where the apparitions and the message to the world to improve themselves had taken place, because humanity was facing a terrible end, full of natural disasters, unknown diseases, hunger, and suffering. Only the argument, or rather blackmail, of wanting to study at another university had the desired effect. Arek added a quote from his favorite New Age poet to his argument. This poem had an impact on his parents like a red rag to a bull.

"What did it sound like?" He remembered: "

Remember the past

, its foundations our mothers wept.

Look at their tears.

You know the future

, its walls our fathers are building.

Look at their plans.

You have prospects.

We open the windows in our children.

See what they play with.

You know destiny. The

roof is already visible in our present.

Look around.

More and more ruins.

His parents gave up." The son received a full blessing to rest and relax in the mountains, so that foolish thoughts would not cross his mind. He also had to promise not to read the rhyming ramblings of some obsessed apostate who leads decent, God-fearing people astray.

Arek stared unknowingly out the window. The landscape was changing, new times were dawning, replacing the idyllic countryside. More and more greenhouses were being built for greengrocers, brick-built pork and chicken factories, practically bursting with the cries and wails of the crowded animals, or modern barns for cows confined in cages where they stood stupefied—drained of milk by cold machines, staring ahead with glassy eyes, maddened with fear. The European Union had already left its mark on the landscape. It had been transformed by new technologies, introduced by farmers to make their production profitable.

Arek stared blankly at the cyclically scrolling images, seeing a fair mane of hair in the reflection. Thick eyebrows gave his still youthful face a masculine look. He blinked to himself and closed his heavy eyelids. He fell asleep.

The loud announcement announcing the end of the journey woke the sleepers. Arek opened his sleepy eyes and saw the Zakopane train station. Among the disembarking passengers, it was easy to distinguish tourists who resembled turtles. Huge backpacks swung like shells on their backs, and their hiking boots and small heads wagged comically. He stepped off the train. People rushed forward in a wave. He let himself be swept away by the crowd, which swallowed him up the escalator and spat him out through the narrow throat of the platform.

The fresh air was intoxicating. The homely atmosphere was captivating with the local dialect heard all around. Highlanders dressed in white frock coats, thickly embroidered with folk motifs, leaning against their axes, bowed low, removing their feathered hats, and invited people to join them in their carriages. Highlanders in flowered shawls, draped with red beads that rested heavily on their ample breasts, waited for the ceprów in embroidered corsets that cinched their waists, offering hospitality and free rooms.

Arek heard a familiar voice.

"Grayyy..." someone called from the side.

He barely recognized the thin man waving at him. Tomek had longer hair than usual. His bearded face, and only his hazel eyes sparkled with a familiar glint, as if he'd just done something wrong. His aquiline nose was red, and he kept wiping his jacket cuffs with it.

"Hello, Omen! You look terrible. Why did I bother with that disguise?" Children cry at the sight of you." As if to confirm these words, a baby screamed loudly. The friends laughed loudly and made teddy bears, patting each other on the back in hugs.

"Then let's go to my place," Tomek suggested eagerly, and they set off. He took the lightest package from his friend—the one with the wolf costume.

"Do you have a spare apartment?" Arek sneered, expecting his friend to have rented some dingy den to save money.

"Cool, Szary. I have a spare bed. It's not far, we'll walk down Krupówki Street. We'll leave this whole thing and go for a little swim, right? Waiting for you has dried me out a bit.

" "Omen, I know your foamy ones, right? That would be enough for Winnie the Pooh all winter." They elbowed each other in the ribs.

They turned left and walked uphill along the patterned cobblestones, along a street full of people, where lamps bowed down to them, round heads stretched out on long necks. Vendors were aggressively pushing goat's milk cheese called oscypek onto tourists. The street smelled of fried lamb. The temptation was a grill of skewered chickens, which had recently fallen in price because, stuffed with hormones and other unknown filth, they grew very quickly and didn't need to be plucked after slaughter, as the birds simply didn't grow feathers. The street reeked of burnt potatoes, which, genetically modified, had grown to enormous sizes.

Girls were teasing boys with glances, hoping for something interesting to experience during their vacation. They wanted something to tell their jealous friends about, and they were even willing to sacrifice their virginity for the pleasure. A couple of friends walking by ignored these obvious teasings. Tomek told the story of his exile, how he wandered here and there, and the world around them dimmed and became unimportant, even unnecessary.

Time passed quickly. They did as they'd planned. They left their belongings in a rented room, which, as it turned out, was a single room. They dodged a landlady who wanted to collect an unpaid bill, and before they knew it, they were standing in front of a café called Wa-tra. They went inside. They left a bag containing a wolf costume in the cloakroom and took the first available table. They ordered a beer each.

The waitress took the order and brought a beer on a tray. Then she walked away, expertly maneuvering her hips between the tables. Her buttocks, tucked into her miniskirt, were so tight they seemed to be screaming for freedom from their cramped confines that they wanted to tear the fabric and let them out, gasping for freedom.

They settled comfortably and quenched their thirst with large gulps of beer. The golden liquid traveled down their esophagi and into their stomachs, providing pleasant relief. They smacked their lips, licking the foam from their lips, doing it loudly, like in their school days, when they'd take a drink during long breaks to relax, to endure another hour with some hag, they'd already forgotten who. A second-rate band was playing some old songs, worn-out hits from the nineties.

Arek pushed Tomek to finally tell him why he'd had to get a costume from his father and what was on his mind.

"Come on, what's the deal? You apparently have some idea for easy money.

" "I'll tell you everything from the beginning. Just don't burst out laughing.

" "Don't flatter yourself. I'm well aware of your crazy ideas."

Tomek smiled and nodded approvingly; they had indeed had a few good adventures together; there was plenty to remember. After a moment, he began his story:

"As usual, I suffered from a chronic illness, which you know well."

"A chronic lack of cash," Arek blurted out without hesitation.

"Exactly." Well, I came up with a brilliant idea, because I wasn't having any luck with women, and it's hard to pick up a chick without cash.

"You played poker and got yourself into even bigger trouble?" his friend interjected, nodding with pity and triumph—sure he'd hit the nail on the head.

"Gray, you're a prophet," Tomek admitted, patting his companion on the shoulder with feigned admiration. "Well! As you can imagine, I lost everything. When it turned out the watch I pawned was a fake, they threw me out of the casino naked... Sorry, they gave me my jacket and shoes back. And imagine... That worked out for me."

The listener leaned over the table, raised his eyebrows in surprise, then asked, shaking his head in disbelief.

"What do you say? Is a draft between eggs a pleasure for you?"

"Listen, this is just the beginning," Tomek said, growing impatient with his friend's constant interruptions, which were already starting to irritate him.

"Really?" I thought it was the end for you, the friend continued to mock.

"Shut up, or I'll stop here and you'll never know what's going on.

" "Okay, okay. Relax, man. What happened, so delicate? Keep talking," Arek replied with feigned contrition.

"It was already night and it was getting cold, so I ran to my warm room, which hadn't been paid for in a week, and suddenly... Bang!...

" "What? A close encounter of the third kind with Martians in blue uniforms. Were you having trouble making verbal contact?

" "You didn't guess this time! I bumped into a woman. And what if she doesn't jump out at me." "You boor! What are you doing, you bastard?!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Tomek stopped talking and laughed to himself.

"So what are you giggling about? Tell me! How did that end?

" "You know me, I couldn't stand it." Without thinking, I showed her what I had under my jacket.

"Oh no! I can't believe you dared." Arek shook his head doubtfully. "And what did she say when she saw your stallion shrunk from the cold to the size of a grasshopper?

" "And she'll do it if she doesn't hit me in the head with her purse and legs." She ran away in a zigzag fashion as if I'd shot her with a machine gun. She woke the whole street with her scream. The lights in the windows came on. I look a bit silly with my dick exposed for ridicule, so I gave up.

" "So what are you bragging about, man?" the listener wondered with disgust. "They beat you to the punch. You made a pathetic pervert of yourself because you have nothing to brag about. And on top of that, you got hit over the head with your purse. And very well! You deserved it.

" "Well, you're wrong, smartass," Tomek interrupted him mockingly. "I still have the purse, and I assure you, it's quite heavy and stuffed." I still have a lump.

" "That's really lucky. So what? That's the end of the story.

" "No, that's just the beginning. The best is yet to come. Order something stronger," Tomek declared, waiting for his colleague's reaction.

The waitress immediately sensed the eagerness of the gesticulating customers. She took their order for bison grass vodka with an appetizer. When she brought a bottle of vodka, they hurriedly poured the alcohol into glasses. They drank it and snacked on a vegetable salad with herring. They switched legs, and Tomek continued the conversation.

"Exactly! I paid for the room. I bought some new clothes and was broke again. I thought to myself, once I die, I'll try again.

" "That's why you're sniffing so hard. I thought you had allergies, and you shameless fool, you're wandering around Zakopane naked. You'll see you again someday, the halny will catch up with you," he wagged his finger at him as if admonishing a small child.

"I thought, I did." I put on my moccasins. I put only my jacket over my hump and set off into the dark night. I chose a secluded spot. I hid behind a tree and waited, waited...

"And the breeze was pleasant, wasn't it?

" "True! It wasn't warm. Up here in the mountains, there were constant drafts, as if Saint Peter had forgotten to close the door to heaven."

"But you made it?" Arek asked anxiously.

"Of course! I see some obese old woman coming." I stood in front of her and pulled my jacket wide open.

He interrupted his story at the climax. You could see from his expression that he did it on purpose. He poured more vodka into the glasses. Arek drank it quickly and, unable to bear the interruption, asked impatiently.

"So what? So what? Come on! What the hell happened next?

" "And that franca... Instead of hitting me with her purse heavy with cash, she grabs my dick and holds me.

" "Oh shit! You really were unlucky, man," Arek admitted with feigned sympathy. "And what did you do?

" "What was I supposed to do? I begged her for mercy. Seeing it wasn't helping, I wanted to hit her, but as soon as I raised my hand, the hag grabbed me harder and deeper...

" "Bollocks too?!!!" Arek was terrified at the thought and instinctively clenched his knees.

"Too!" And she licked her lips obscenely as if she were craving scrambled eggs.

"And what? And what?

" "What was I supposed to do?" I started moaning loudly.

"Well, you're in over your head!" he snapped and corrected himself. "I mean, right up to your balls.

" "Luckily, some bigot heard those scandalous sounds and notified the law enforcement. Only the siren of a police car cooled the old woman's ardor, and I freed myself at the last moment. I jumped over the fence and escaped. But I was happy to see the police.

"Omen! You're a loser as a pervert.

" "Well..." Tomek admitted, nodding, convinced of the truth of the statement.

"And where is your easy cash, you excitationist, that we're supposed to release painlessly?

" "What do you mean, where? It's lying in the street. I'm starting over. This time I'll be playing the werewolf."

"Do you really want to keep up this stupid game?

" "Gray! I've thought it all out. Think for yourself!... Even if they catch me... What will they do to me? Well, what? I can always say I'm having fun on Halloween. Isn't that allowed?

" "Maybe you're right, it's the holidays, a time for adventures.

" "Okay! We'll have a drink after the last one. We'll pay and get to work. We have to try out the costume," Tomek decided, and gestured for the waitress, gesturing for her to write out the bill.

"An omen. And what role do you foresee for me in this horror?" Arek asked anxiously, a bad feeling gripping him.

"Of course, you'll be my insurance. And if I get caught, you'll collect the prizes. I mean, of course, the money I earned."

As usual, Arek couldn't refuse. The alcohol was making itself felt. He agreed despite his inner resistance.

"Okay! But promise me. I decide when we let up. Remember what happened before the final exams? You didn't listen to me." Instead of giving up in time, you got caught up in the romance and got a kicking from the director.

"You have my word. You decide when to retreat."

They paid a pleasant waitress in a tight miniskirt with a tip and watched her go. They grabbed their clothes from the cloakroom and left the Watra, full of humor and buzzed with alcohol.

It was already gray outside. After a brief debate, they decided to head for a less populated area. They descended Krupówki, even busier than during the day, and turned left, toward Gronnik. They formed a plan, arguing fiercely with each other, discussing every detail. Finally, they developed and refined a common concept.

Mists crept out of the ravines and forests, blue and thick, falling from the mountains like snow avalanches onto the city dotted with lights. Darkness slowly enveloped the area, winning the battle against the street's brightness, further illuminated by the lamps of the surrounding houses with their soaring roofs and distinctive rounded foundations, which looked like the slimy scales of some prehistoric reptile.

They decided to set an ambush near a historic wooden church. It was a good idea, because behind it lay a forest of crosses from an old cemetery. The scenery seemed appropriate, even ideal. Between the graves grew trees, their trunks thick enough to hide behind one. The wooden fence was an obstacle that the young boy could easily overcome.

Tomek put a wolf's head on his head and jumped the fence, then stood behind a spruce tree. Arek's task seemed simple: he had to choose a suitable victim. It was to be an elegant, elderly man or a richly dressed woman. He should overtake his chosen victim at a run, which signaled that no one was following. If someone approached from the front, he had to be stopped on any pretext, for example by asking for fire.

Arek strolled up and down the street; time seemed to drag on forever, and it was getting colder and colder. Sparse groups of people moved in groups, most of them tourists returning to their rented accommodations, tipsy and merry. Finally, after a good hour, he spotted an elderly man with a cane. He approached and decided he was the right man; he had a watch, fashionable shoes, and a hat—a sign of wealth. He waited for the right moment, checked the back, and ran ahead of the man. He glanced at his friend, hoping he'd fallen asleep on a tombstone, bored with waiting. But Tomek was ready, and of course, he looked terrifying in his werewolf disguise, hidden in the cemetery setting, where the bluish mist combed by the jagged crests of the crosses resembled the disheveled, gray hair of a ghost. Arek felt a thrill. He ran quite a distance, fortunately no one was approaching from the other side. When he heard screams, he hurriedly turned back. He reached the ambush site. He reached the ambush site. He saw the man lying on his back and Tomek rummaging through the victim's pockets. The old man clutched his heart, vomited, choked, and froze, and two terrified faces were reflected in his dead pupils.

Arek unconsciously began to whisper a poem:

I placed happiness on the table of life

and got drunk on freedom.

It was so pleasant.

I bit into the troubles of everyday life

and gorged myself against my will.

Oh, this is bad.

I drank misery in one quick drink

and choked until it hurt

so bitterly

I puked my helplessness into a toilet that wasn't my own.

And they laughed until they burst into tears.

They still do it.

I fall asleep with a hangover on a day like this

and I'm afraid to wake up.

I prefer to dream fairy tales

because life is a fucking fairy tale.