Myshevskiy. Well…

Golyshkin. Excuse me, the old man, I was carried away with my reflections! As far as I remember, your visit is related to my new book?

Myshevskiy. Yes, you are right, Stalver Udarpyatovich. I got very interested in your “Theosophical System of Nature Levels and Existence of Endless Variety of Matter Forms in the Light of Spiritualism”. Is it this book you are holding now?

Golyshkin. Hm-m… I would put you an “excellent” mark if you took my exam, Mr. Myshevsky. You pronounced a title of my book without a single stumbling. It’s not common, I tell you.

Myshevskiy. No wonder, professor. I have thought a lot about it. You claim that all material phenomena might be turned eventually into spiritual ones…

Golyshkin. Well, it’s not me who claims that. I mean I am not the first and the only…

Myshevskiy. Perhaps, it is true professor. But I read about this idea from your book.

Golyshkin. It’s nice to hear that, Andrey Sigizmundovich. By the way, which direction of spiritualism does appeal to you more – absolute or relative? Do you prefer to follow Berkley or the old Aristotle?

Myshevskiy. It’s hard for me to answer your question, professor. Actually, I have rather vague idea about spiritualism. I told you, I am a businessman. I came here not to discuss controversial issues of theosophy but with a specific goal.

Golyshkin. What goal?

Myshevskiy. To turn your abilities into money, Stalver Udarpyatovich. You are my golden mine, professor.

Golyshkin. Excuse me, but me and money are two incompatible things. Haven’t you read my book? Perhaps, you noticed that it’s too far from materialism. Yes, I admit that a human body requires its special living conditions. However, I consider the body to be a product of spiritual activity of a human being. I doubt that one can make money out of it.

Myshevskiy. What if you are mistaken, professor?

Golyshkin. Then do persuade me, Mr. Myshevsky! I would be even glad. But before taking this Sisyphean labor… would you like a cup of tea?

Myshevskiy. I would prefer black coffee with no sugar, no milk.

Golyshkin. As for me, I prefer green tea with jasmine. It smells marvelous!

Myshevskiy. I heard that jasmine has a smell of disease. And black coffee smells like revenge.

Golyshkin. Oh, I would never think of that! Okay, let it be your way, Mr. Myshevsky. Drink your coffee enjoying the idea of revenge. Meanwhile I will be diving into disease. Then you will tell me what brought you here.

The doorbell is ringing at the entrance hall. Rodion having changed his pajamas for jeans and shirt opens the door. Olga comes in with a medical case in her hands. She comes up to the mirror patting her hair. The young lady is dressed modestly wearing a cheap skirt and a blouse.

Rodion. Hello Olenka! Wow! Hotcha! You look more and more irresistible each day!

Olga. Oh, here you are, Rodion… How is Stalver Sigizmundovich doing? Don’t see me off, I know the way to his room.

Rodion. Olga Alekseevna! Maybe I am goofy but I can’t understand what is my fault.

Olga. How should I know? Ask your father about it.

Rodion. I can’t. He is talking to a very cool buddy now. They are bouncing off some cool stuff. So, Olenka, you will have to wait. There is vodka and coca-cola… Would you like a cocktail of Jim Morrison?

Olga. Listen, Rodion, it looks like you have nothing to do, is that right? Are you hanging around doing nothing or is it your work?

Rodion. What are you talking about Olga Alekseevna? Please, do explain for me, stupid guy!

Olga. Each time when I come to see Stalver Udarpyatovich I see you at home. So, my conclusion is that you are either an absolute idler living on your father’s means or a sheik.

Rodion. Actually, I am like pants without a shirt. I am living free life with no responsibility.

Olga. Don’t waste your time then. I don’t care about men of such type.

Rodion. Whatever… what machos do you care about?

Olga. Speaking your slang I like hot and pricy machos.

Rodion. Oh, such a pain…

Olga. All women are like that! Why would I be an exception? Am I a fright? Am I stupid?

Rodion. Oh no, Olenka! You are a pussy cat. Sweet pussy cat!

Olga. That’s it, my little boy!

Rodion. Oh shucks! I am not a little boy. If I have no bucks it’s not the reason to call me sucker.

Olga. Take it easy, cowboy! Only boiled eggs are harder than you and only stars are higher. However, I call a boy any man not capable to fulfill my dream.

Rodion. What’s that shit? Don’t make pickle-puss, tell me! Olya! Please tell me!