6

Well, that's fine. We'll go with the slipper, it'll take about twenty minutes.

-Who are these people?

-For fuck's sake, stop being scared, we're going together, right?

-I just wanted to know more about them before going in.

-What a whiner, but okay: Rychu, Janek, Madzia, Klocek, and Waldek.

-Who's Klocek?

-Oh fuck, it's really Zbyszek, but you're supposed to call him Klocek.

-But where did that come from?

-You really are a fucked up man. You need to chill the fuck out so I don't start regretting taking you. Don't be afraid, you won't get your ass kicked.

And what was he supposed to say? And so every word was just a ersatz of thoughts he couldn't possibly express because he'd be taken for a fool. What's wrong with me? Since when do I care if someone takes me for a fool? Jesus? What's going on? This is the first and last time…

"The only thing that worries me is that you don't smoke.

" "That's disgusting.

" "Fuck! You have to smoke to be a man, do you understand?!

Anatol felt himself slowly, despite himself, beginning to submit to everything Andrzej said, how he was taking over, how his every sentence became an order. He felt he was witnessing a scene called: the peasant becomes the master. He felt it and couldn't bear it. But how could he defend himself? What, tell him the truth, that he was really the fool and tell him to shut up? No, that wouldn't make any impression on him. Oh, and he'd punch me in the face. And that was it: there was no way out. There was no way out, that was it. I had to give in. But only for this one damn evening. Jesus, what am I going to talk to them about?

"Then give me that cigarette.

" "Well, I like that. Just remember not to smoke too much at night, like you do at first, or you'll puke. And if someone pukes, you kick them in the face. Ha ha ha."

Thanks to Andrzej's efficient assistance, by the time they reached the pub, Tolek already seemed to be a smoker, a fact of which—to his surprise—he felt momentarily proud. Truth be told, the most challenging part was his ability to expertly hold a cigarette in his fingers. Treating it as if it had always been there; an extra finger, something inextricably linked to your personality, your complement, without which you are nothing. Anatol immediately understood what this was all about, and with his cigarette-holding hand, he pushed open the entrance door to the Platan. There, he was slapped in the face by the combined forces of not one, but hundreds of cigarettes.

"Ha ha, don't worry. We have to get to that booth—it's permanently rented to us.

" "It's so loud in here, I can't hear a thing."

"Never mind, everyone here is talking nonsense anyway. Oh, that's over there."

They turned into a dark corridor, which immediately became much quieter. They'd been walking for a good twenty seconds when a light appeared from around the corner and the sound of conversation spread. Around the bend, they saw what looked like another place, consisting only of one small room, containing five drunk young men.

"Hello, you bunch of fucks."

"Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... you dickhead!!!!!!!!

" "This is Anatol.

" "Klocek.

" "Rychu. Give me the rake.

" "Waldek."

"Hi, I'm Janek."

"Hi, honey, Madzia."

"Hmm...hi everyone...

" "He's a bit shy, but he still has everything ahead of him, right, fuck?!!!!!?"

"Come here, sit down," Klocek waved at him. Anatol approached eagerly, feeling like he finally knew what to do and wanted to get away from Madzia, she was too daring... "

Here's a beer and a drink.

" "Thanks." Although, in truth, he wasn't grateful at all. He felt like he was on some idiotic test, as if his good behavior would determine his fate. What the hell is going on here? Who are these people?

-Don't worry about not having any money. Nobody here has any money.

-Hey, Klocek, isn't it a bit too soon?

"Relax, I have instructions.

Jesus Christ! What do they want from me?

" "No one has any money here, everyone drinks for free, fucks whatever they want, because it's all Sponsor's."

"What?" "

Dude, don't worry about it. Sponsor is Sponsor. Andrzej told him about you and decided to take you on.

" "Where? What's your point?" "

We're organized around Sponsor, we're his charges. Nobody knows him well, so nobody knows what his motives are. Anyway, he's shitting money on us. You'll see, will you like it?

" "And what does he get out of this?"

"Fuck knows. Oh look," he pointed at Janek, who was making a move on Madzia. His hand almost disappeared between her thighs, but her eyes were still on Anatol. When their gazes met, Anatol felt boredom and an immense emptiness radiating from them, as if they were still waiting for something, because nothing had, or had ever, made any impression on them. Anatol couldn't stand that look for even five seconds, so he averted his eyes after just a second.

"Everyone fucks whatever they want, but Madzia is the real challenge." The sponsor found her first; she was lying on the street, shagged and dying. He took her in, and the idea was born when she confided in him that she was suffering terribly because no one could satisfy her...

Anatol listened, listened, listened, listened, listened, and had absolutely no idea what was happening, who he was, who these people were. These were all incredibly improbable things, what he was doing here. One more beer, one more beer, one more beer, one more sip... and... finally, it happened...

Anatol suddenly became, crossed the line, stepped outside himself:

HE BECAME A NEW PERSON.

"Do you know what Jewish foreplay is?"

"Nooooo, fuck, fuck."

"Two hours of begging." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa fuck !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

​ aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa fuckwdgjkddxghg!!!!!!!!!!1fjghopi9m53

Anatol Kolpak became the center of the party, and only because he was too shocked by the situation to have the strength to object to anything, not even himself. A whiff of bitchiness filled his lungs, and he felt a call he'd never felt before. He let himself go, and… it happened: everyone liked him, and it wasn't about those idiotic jokes, anyway, that pack of idiots would laugh at anything. It was him: Anatol Kolpak as he truly was, but everything happened so quickly that all he remembers now is Madzia's tongue grazing his testicles, champagne pouring over naked bodies, some whores (thousands of whores?), Jesus, some other untimely things that dawn somewhere there, but vanish very quickly, and it's as if they never happened. Only everything that followed after waking up, the aftermath of those few hours, he remembers and will never forget, because he basks in them to this day.

"Are you awake?

" "What?" he jumped up. There was a woman in his bed. Oh my God, it's even worse, he was in her bed. What is this place? What am I doing here? When suddenly a flock of drunk people burst into the room with vodka and glasses, chanting,

"Anatol, Anatol!!!!!"

"What... what have I done?"

Everyone put on innocent faces and looked at Madzia, who was sitting on the floor, covered in a blanket, her eyes fixed on him, filled with gratitude and devotion.

"What? No, definitely nothing happened between us. No, that's impossible..."

"But Tolek, what are you talking about?" With that, Madzia ran to him, completely forgetting that there was nothing under the blanket, and hugged him tightly.

The sounds of congratulations continued, leaving Anatol bewildered. Indeed, it was no wonder: everyone was congratulating him, filling his glasses, patting his shoulders, making suggestive remarks, but no one wanted to explain what was really going on. And then there was Madzia, still naked, clinging tightly to him. Until finally, he let himself be carried away by the atmosphere and believed he had accomplished something special; he began to return her hugs and kisses, stopped being nervous about her nakedness, and everyone else was taking pictures of them. No matter what I had done, or what they all thought I had done, they finally knew I deserved more than ordinary people, and her naked presence was perhaps the best proof of that. And he dissolved in his happiness. He melted into Madzia's rapt gaze. Had my total loneliness finally come to an end? He asked himself this question when he heard the words whispered in his ear: I always knew you would come someday and do what you did. I love you.

Suddenly, Klocek spoke up:

-Okay, enough of this debauchery for today - Anatol has to go home and get some rest, because tomorrow morning there's a ceremony at the Sponsor's, to which, of course, everyone is invited.

Again came the sounds of joy mixed with ecstasy and obsession.

He finally managed to wake up in his own home. He didn't know what day it was, or what time it was at all—all he felt was hunger. And an overwhelming desire for what he remembered from the previous days to be true, a reality, and not just the sick fantasies of a poor dreamer.

His parents were gone. Besides, what did he care now who they were to him? It was good that they were gone, and even better if they never came back. After all, they didn't even have to give me money anymore, because there was a Sponsor… Ahh, the paths Fortune leads us to are truly uncharted. But today I'll finally meet him, and I have to make the best impression possible. But how can I do that? Be natural? No…

Drrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Parents! They'll probably want to talk, they always just want to talk. A glance through the peephole, however, revealed from the darkness of ignorance a completely different figure, one who bore no resemblance to his parents in the slightest. It was a girl, heavily made up, but in a way that was feline and passionate enough that it didn't (as usual) become disgusting to Tolek, dressed in a very tight green blouse that ended high enough for an onlooking boy to be lost in the sight of her navel; and a short black skirt, as well as tights that led to modest low-heeled shoes (she kept shifting from one foot to the other and twisting her face in an impatient grimace, as if desperately trying to relieve herself of the burden of her bladder). Phew..., she must be some kind of whore, what does she want?

"Who's there?"

"Oh, Tolek, it's me, Madzia.

What? Is that Madzia? Impossible... but... she's... ugly... No, not ugly, but she's a whore." He had to open the door after all. "

Hi. What, do you need to pee?"

"Come on, quickly, I have to show you something."

And grabbing Tolek's hand, she led him briskly to his own room. They reached the couch, where Madzia released his hand, lifted her skirt with a lightning-fast movement, and quickly dropped her panties and tights to the carpet. She lay on her back, spreading her legs wide, and urged Anatol on, saying, "

Jesus, hurry, can't you see she's hungry as hell?"

In situations like these, Tolek's deliberations, like: pretty or not pretty, or whore or not whore, lost all meaning, because in such situations, only one

thing mattered: FEED !!!!!!!! feedfeedfeea ...