-Oh, my dear, how beautifully you speak…
-You know, I think I'm really glad to have met you.
"Oh, you're so sweet. But now go wash up, change, and we'll head to Sponsor's for the ceremony.
" "Perhaps you'll be so kind as to tell me what the ceremony is?"
"What? Today you'll become a new member of Sponsor's family, and besides, Sponsor will marry us..."
The residence that came into view was... was... I honestly don't know if it was still a palace, or maybe even a castle. In any case, Anatol wasn't quite sure what he was talking about (again), only thinking that the never-fulfilled dreams of ordinary people having their own houses with gardens were mercilessly ridiculed and humiliated by the very existence of such a building, which, on top of all that, only had one resident. This sight wasn't new to Madzia; she was here with everyone at least four times a week, so she held Anatol's hand tightly and comforted him in his bewilderment, which was intensifying with every minute spent wandering the breathtaking corridors. She now seemed to him like a lightning rod, along which crazy thoughts flow calmly to the ground, stealing a person's certainty whether he is asleep or awake.
Finally, they reached a ballroom filled with people of all ages. The room was filled to the brim with music and joy, but that wasn't their destination. They were heading to a much more modest room, resembling in every respect an ordinary guest room in an ordinary villa (in the presence of this building, after all, the grandest villa became painfully ordinary). All the male members of the party were already seated inside, and around each of them, a hissing whore coiled like a snake. They sat in two arcs facing each other, so that on one side they were connected by their Sponsor, while the other waited for the evening's couple. The Sponsor was a man with the effeminate beauty of a boy who couldn't age, with lush black hair that fell into his eyes in a long fringe, and they couldn't help but captivate. The sight of those eyes, and especially the soothing gaze that settled on Tolek's face, made him understand that the financial motive of drinking themselves to death for nothing was certainly not the only motive drawing all these young men under the Sponsor's protective wings.
The sight of the arriving couple brought a beautiful smile to the man's face. He gestured for them to take their seats, then snapped his fingers. The summoned servant brought a liter of vodka and poured it for each of the feast participants:
"Well, that's a good start, my dears," Sponsor began the evening.
Everyone tipped their glasses, the atmosphere relaxed a bit, and the buzz of conversation began to build when Sponsor rose with the clear intention of speaking:
"Dear Anatol, this is the first time we've met, and you probably haven't been fully informed of all the details of this matter in which you are currently involved." I have the honor of explaining a few things to you." He lit a cigarette handed to him by a servant and continued in a solemn tone: "The organization you'll be joining today, whose members are the boys present here, and who you've already met. Well, to be honest, I went a bit overboard with the word "organization," but what can I do? I like pathos and grand words. In reality, it's just an ordinary group of young people united by a love of alcohol and a good fuck. They differ from the other members of this group only in that they have a reason to indulge in these pleasures, because in their lives there's my humble person, who's shitting money on their bodies and souls for these ungodly purposes and, which is probably important, demands nothing in return. Hmm, I see the surprise in your eyes, and rightly so, because it really does seem quite improbable, but I'll explain the meaning of this whole initiative to you... or not, I'll do it later, in a private conversation."
The sponsor took a long breath and then spoke again:
"Now, dear Anatole, I will marry you to the one who has taken a liking to you and is also in this room. I see the fear in your eyes and I hasten to reassure you: I do not intend to play the priest, much less usurp God's authority. This will be a nuptial ceremony rather than a wedding, a purely symbolic act of ordering the relations existing within our small community... Dear Magda, dear Anatole, I kindly ask you to rise from your seats."
The couple in question rose, holding hands, and the servant refilled all the glasses. With a solemn gesture, the sponsor beckoned him over, and he appeared with a tray covered with red cloth, on which rested two beautifully carved porcelain glasses, filled to the brim with vodka. When the young couple had the goblets in their hands, the sponsor spoke for the third time:
"Dear ones, in a moment the brudershaft, drained to its very bottom, will make you husband and wife in the presence of me and the others gathered here." The bonds of this vow remain valid for the duration of our small community, which I've taken the liberty of calling LIBOLAND. Until then, you must remain faithful to each other in good times and in hard times. Faithfulness to each other is your only duty, for no one here asks about love. I warn you, however, that the justice department of LIBOLAND is, has been, and will be ruthless in its practices, and the vow cannot be dissolved. Well, enough of this bullshit: down to the bottom!!!!!!!!
The newlyweds crossed their arms and each tipped their glass, concluding the act with remarkably elaborate facial grimaces. Fortunately, a servant immediately appeared beside them, bearing a tray of various delicacies to help combat the unpleasant sensations of drinking vodka. So, everyone, join the fun, we're drinking for everyone today...
And that's how Anatol Kołpak, a seventeen-year-old loner, a good Catholic, terribly shy around the opposite sex, who gave his heart and soul to Zosia, became the husband of Madzia, whom he seduced with his exceptional prowess in bed.
It was around 5 p.m., on a day that was truly hard to remember, when Anatol woke up at home. Oh, it had been so long since he'd been here, or at least that was the impression he had. He stood up, looked around the rooms, and with the calm of a guilty man could tell he was alone. For a brief moment, he was seized by the slightly disturbing thought that lately he'd been home alone almost constantly, and hadn't seen his parents at all. No, it wasn't some delusional longing, but a certain fear of their tricks, designed to mess up his life. However, these thoughts quickly vanished at the sight of the ready dinner in the oven. Nearby, there was also a note, which, as it turned out, happily explained everything and filled Anatol with a new dose of joy. They were gone for two weeks. That information should have been enough, but no, of course, they had to complain about constantly missing each other and not even having time to inform him of their departure. And damn it.
Tolek ate, ate, ate, and dwelt in his thoughts on recent events.... Oh, how beautiful it all was, like something out of a fairy tale, all these guys, alcohol, gallons of alcohol, whores, thousands of whores, all for free, oh, and my wife, and of course me. Hmm, the funniest thing is that if someone had ever told me such a story, I would have laughed at them and gone to sleep. What am I saying? Let's face it: no one could ever have told me such a story, because I barely had any friends. Oh... how everything changed so unexpectedly, it's hard to believe. And who said Radom was dying? What utter nonsense! It was here that I found the joy of life, got rid of my insecurities, my worries. Nothing but drinking and fucking, what more could you want? Jesus, it's fucking amazing. Okay, but that made me fall a bit behind on music and books, but don't worry, I'll catch up soon. Oh, I'll spend forty-five minutes of oblivion at Lowercase…
………………. "girl, you're a king,
waive your rights" …………………….
Waive your rights, waive your rights, waive your rights, the singer's scream continued to echo in his head for a long time, until he realized that one of the sounds reaching his ears was the phone ringing.
"Hello?"
"Hi Tolek, it's us."
"Oh, hello, what's up?"
"You're finally home, you're always wandering around. All day and all night.
" "What do you mean, I'm home all the time, I just don't pick up the phone."
"Tolek, stop lying, damn it, you missed school two days in a row."
"Hello… hello, I can't hear you very well." "
Stop fooling around. Now we're in Zielona Góra, we had to leave, and you don't even know what happened…"
"Mom, stop babbling."
"We'll talk again when we get back."
-Well then, bye.
What do they want from me? Everything was starting to fall into place, I found friends, I found myself a wife, and here they come up with some shitty school, who cares about some idiotic school… What idiots, Jesus Christ.
The conversation had upset him so much that he couldn't find a place to stay in the apartment or do anything, and despite his best attempts to downplay the conversation, he slowly began to admit to himself that he was probably scared by his mother's last words and their possible consequences. After all, they have power over me, damn it… I can't understand it: can't they be happy with me? Is it always the case that our goals will be completely different, and always the cost of their happiness will be my unhappiness, and vice versa. Jesus… and it's all because they're simpletons… I have to take some brave steps… but what?…
Wait…. Wait……. Wait……..
Oh yes, it's obvious! And he picked up the phone for the second time today.
"Hello?!
"Good morning, Anatol speaking, have I found Zbyszko?"
"Yes, I'm on my way. Hello?"
"Hi Klocek...
" "Tolek?" "Oh... well, hello to our dear companion of fun and joy."
"Hello, hello... you know, I have a little problem?
" "What's the matter?" "Whack." "
Listen... my parents are out and..."
"Are we playing at your place today? Well, Tolek, I like that."
"No, no, that's not what I mean. You see, they called today and talked to me very rudely, something about me not going to school, about me never being home, and so on, all that bullshit..."
"Sure, Tolek, I know exactly what you mean, because we all went through that at the beginning, until we raised them..."
"Really?
" "Well, did you think only yours were outdated?" "No, no, it's like that with everyone."
"Okay, but what can I do, what can I do?
" "What do you mean?" What everyone else…
- But what? Jesus, Klocek, speak a little more clearly…
- Pack your bags and go to your Sponsor.
- Seriously? You know, I was just thinking about that…
- You'll live there for a month or two, of course, you'll keep in touch with them so they don't do anything stupid, and eventually you'll make them a condition: you'll come back, yes, and you'll be happy to, because you love them and all that, but they have to give you freedom to develop and simply stay the fuck out of your business.
- And what? Will they go for it?
- So far, it's worked out with everyone, and you know, it'll be much easier for them when they hear they no longer have to give you any money or sponsor things that make their heads hurt.
- Indeed, you're probably right.
- Well, pack your bags quickly and go to your Sponsor.
- Don't I have to call him first?
- Why? He's always home and happy whenever we visit.
"Jesus, Klocek, thanks."
"No problem, always at your service. For now, I have to go, because I'm with this one pussy. For now.
" "For now."
Immediately after that conversation, Anatol, excited by Klocek's brilliant idea (who's a real good friend, by the way), eagerly began to flee the house. He entered his room and started looking around, wondering what to take with him. He'd have plenty of everything at the Sponsor's, so he should probably take things he wouldn't find there, meaning what? Some personal belongings, and a few CDs and books. While searching his room for something valuable, the absence of which might start to bother him, he came across a few letters in his desk drawer. What are these letters? Oh, my handwriting... Zosia... Oh Jesus... my Zosiaaa... Jesus... what is she doing now, what's happening to her, where is she, who is she sleeping with, why did I forget about her? Anatol asked himself these questions with increasing speed, closer and closer to despair. No! No! You can't go crazy, she herself wrote that it was over, that I should forget... Quickly, so that moment of weakness wouldn't return, he ran into the bathroom and stuck his head under the cold water. AAAAAAAAAA.... SHIT! No Zocha! And he returned to his room to stuff the aforementioned letters somewhere at the bottom of his bag, but he did it so that his head wouldn't know what his hands were doing.
Just a note for his parents: "Don't worry, I had to leave too. I'll call you before I return. Anatol." And he left his disgusting apartment, slamming the door behind him. With all his might. So that there was noise. So that everyone knew that he, Anatol, didn't give a damn about them all.
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