Blesok no. 66, May-June, 2009


Senko Karuza

The Little House Ghost

Busbuskalai has appeared on the sink, trouble’s about to begin. He’s getting ready to ruin my day. It begins early, like this, at breakfast. He’ll be so ruthless that he won’t even wait for the children to leave for school. Let them see what their father is like. I decide to put an end to all the shit that’s about to follow, so I abruptly get up from the table, jump at the sink, and smack him right on his face. The dishes fly to all sides, he’s stunned among the broken pieces. I wait to see if he’s going to leave me alone.
    “You’re completely nuts! Why don’t you get some help?” my wife screams hysterically.
    I restrain myself from speaking. If it stays at this, if Busbuskalai retreats, everything will be ok. It will be just a sudden attack of morning discontent. I close my eyes and wait, my head hanging over the sink. I see the children silently staring at me. I have to take it, this that they’re looking at their father and thinking he’s crazy. They don’t have their Busbuskalais yet.
    “What are you doing? What’s this?” my wife asks and approaches me, she puts her hand on my shoulder, I feel her getting into my face. I open my eyes, see her anxious eyes, full of anger and worry. She puts her left arm around me and wants to kiss me, but at the corner of my eye I see Busbuskalai pursing his lips at mine. I bite him suddenly on his cheek and my wife screams. She gathers the kids from the table and sends them to school. They hug in the hall and cry.
    I wait. Soon everything gets quiet.
    “Why do you do this to me?” I ask him. “Why can’t you, like all other normal ghosts, just sit quietly and watch at what’s going on in the house?”
    Busbuskalai buries his face in his hands and starts crying.
    “I don’t know what’s wrong with you,” he says. “You’re the only one in this house who simply can’t stand me.”

Why Do I Hate Myself

I don’t know exactly when and how our life took this turn. We didn’t arrange anything. Maybe we sometimes mentioned something similar as we analyzed events that made up our lives. Perhaps it snuck up on us, subconsciously, so to say.
    One morning I took a more careful look at the little notes my wife usually leaves for my children at the table. Words in bright colors, on a bright piece of paper, you just couldn’t miss them.
    They went along perfectly communicating through those little notes. The two of us didn’t get along at all. I decided to try, for fun; there were no immense treasures we could’ve told to each other.
    I wrote a note which said HELLO, HOW ARE YOU? and made myself late for lunch on purpose. But I should’ve known that they wouldn’t wait for me. I came up to the table and showed the note to my wife. She rolled her eyes and continued with her meal. Without a word. I then showed it to my children, not knowing what else to do. They immediately got up and went to their room and brought back little pieces of paper and crayons. My wife and I, puzzled, looked at each other, as if something new was about the begin, something completely impossible, but at least exciting. Then she suddenly took papers from their hands and wrote on one of them: SIT DOWN AND EAT AND I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ONE WORD FROM YOU. She showed it to each of them, then me. THANK YOU, I wrote.
    I tried not to slurp. We all laughed without making a sound. HA HA! I wrote and showed it to all of them. The note went in circle, dirty from food. All of them wrote HA HA on it!
    It was stupid. I started something I’d have to take part in, even though it already started to look pathetic.
    HOW WAS WORK? WHY WERE YOU LATE? my wife wrote.
    WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? a note came from one side.
    SHUT UP AND MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS their mother wrote and shoved it to their faces. For a second I wanted to reproach her for taking the game away from them. But then it came to me that I was the one using their little game in order to solve some invisible things.
    LEAVE ME ALONE! I wrote.
    We ate in silence. As usual.
    It is important that, for now, things are taking their course. I’m certain that once I will be able to write down everything what’s on my mind.

Translated by Tomislav Kuzmanović

created by