The Stranger - Max Frei [269]
“Alas, no. Remember how surprised I was myself?”
“I understand. But if you ever . . . If I remember correctly, you don’t like to resort to this form of release, so . . . well, don’t throw that thing away, but hide it for me. Maybe someday, in several dozen years . . .”
“Well, in several dozen years, I figure I’ll be able to procure most anything at all!” I announced confidently. “You don’t want to have a good time before then?”
“Oh, no, Sir Max! How could I? A person shouldn’t neglect the opportunity for relaxation, but it’s inadmissible to indulge in it too often.”
“I’ll take that into account. How wise you are, Sir Shurf. You don’t mind if I just lie down here on this divan, do you? I’ve already grown used to it—I’ve never been upstairs to the bedroom. I don’t have the strength to get used to yet another new bed. Wake me up in two or three hours. I’ve got so much to do . . . don’t I?”
With these words, I closed my eyes and bid farewell to all the Worlds. I had no dreams, only one infinitely long moment of complete repose.
When I awoke, it was nearly dark in the living room. The windows let in a meager, dusky gray twilight. A fat greenish moon had already begun its triumphal ascent above the horizon. I looked around, dazed, to see Lonli-Lokli sitting stock-still in the rocker. He seemed to be practicing his breathing gymnastics.
“W-hat happened, Sir Shurf?” I mumbled in dismay. “I asked you to wake me up! Are you getting absentminded?”
“I did try wake you up,” Lonli-Lokli’s said. “In three hours, as you requested. I never could have imagined how lustily you can curse. I must admit, I didn’t understand more than half the words—but I jotted them down. And I would be much obliged to you if you would explain what they mean.”
“You jotted them down! Sinning Magicians, what did I say? I’m even curious myself. Come on, show me the list.”
“It’s quite dark in the room. We should probably light a lamp. You can’t see in the dark, as far as I know.”
“I don’t need a lamp. I’ll figure it out somehow. I’m not yet awake enough to be able to stand bright light.”
I took the neat, small piece of paper covered with Lonli-Lokli’s large, evenly spaced handwriting, and read the words. Well, I’ll be! Some of them were words I hadn’t even resorted to in my moments of greatest despair. I felt very ashamed.
“Ouch! Shurf, I’m terribly sorry! I hope you understand that I don’t think that way.”
“No need to trouble yourself with apologies, Max. I know very well that a person can say anything at all in his sleep. But I’m truly interested in what these words mean.”
“All right,” I sighed. “First I’ll bathe, and then we’ll go out somewhere to eat. Honestly, I’ll have to drink some courage if you want to hear a real translation and not some pathetic attempt to beat about the bush!”
“That’s a reasonable suggestion,” Shurf nodded. “I must admit, I’m hungry.”
“Oh, and our last pennies are in my pocket! What a scoundrel I am! Well, never mind. We’ll get back on our feet again.”
A half-hour later we were sitting in the Old Table, where I had breakfasted so enjoyably not long ago. As it turned out, the place became even cozier and livelier toward evening. In any case, according to our landlady, “some people spend every waking hour of the rest of their born days in the Country Home; and there’s nothing better closer to home.” As for the Down Home Diner, I would drop in there later, and alone. I had to play that game without Shurf—for the time being, anyway.
I began my “morning” with a jug of kamra and a glass of some sort of burning hot infusion. Drinking directly upon waking isn’t my style, but we had to celebrate the return of my own dearly beloved countenance. I had also promised to deliver a lecture on uncensored profanity for Sir Shurf Lonli-Lokli, seeker of fresh knowledge. Without a hefty dose of a strong beverage, this just wasn’t going