Jerry's Story

Žila jsem v domnění, že první fanfikci jsem spáchala v rámci DMD. A přitom kdesi v útrobách (nebo kde si to ten stroj schovává) mého počítače dřímala zapomenutá školní úloha. Příběh jedné ze dvou hlavních (a jediných) postav absurdní divadelní hry (nesnáším absurdní drama!). Takže, pokud znáte hru The Zoo Story od Edwarda Albee, možná vás zajímá, co se vlastně stalo v zoo...

Děkuji Dangie za vyvolání povídky z temnot zapomnění, za povzbuzení a především za to, že z textu vybila celé hejno jedovatých much mé nedokonalé angličtiny...
a doktoru Jakubovi Ženíškovi z Pedagogické fakulty UK za zajímavá témata esejí  (které možná vůbec nečte - ale jeho fanfiction sbírka by jistě stála za vidění ;)).

Jerry’s Story

   I did not know if I was sleeping or only lying in bed all the night looking into dark but when I realized I was up, there was light behind the window and I heard my neighbour, a coloured queen, moving behind the beaverboard wall. I imagined him in his Japanese kimono, plucking his eyebrows; of course, I could also see him from the middle of my small room because the door was always open. But I was only lying in bed and thinking of my plan. I wanted to go to the zoo. I was interested in animals very much from the day of THE STORY OF JERRY AND THE DOG on (I always thought about the title of my story in capitals as if it had been written on my old typewriter – or as if I was reading it from a huge billboard). Could I have relationships with animals? I thought animals were indifferent to me except for my black dog which lived with the unpleasant landlady of the roominghouse. Did she think that it was her dog? I didn’t know and I didn’t care. My eyes browsed among my modest belongings, a knife, toilet articles, a few books, a few pieces of crockery and cutlery, a knife, two empty picture frames, and an old typewriter, a strongbox with several rocks inside, a knife, a pack of pornographic playing cards (I could stay in and read or reminisce about the Greek boy I had been in love with  years ago), some letters, a pack of mincemeat that started to stink, a little bottle and a knife. I got up and prepared myself for my visit of the zoo.

   I took the subway down to the Village so I could walk all the way up the Fifth Avenue to the zoo.  The day was hot and full of stench and balloons and ice cream and barking of seals and screaming of birds. The animals were in their laughably small cages, some of them single, some of them in pairs or groups. All of them had gloomy, desperate expressions in their eyes, apart from a couple of big parrots which seemed to be lunatic and angry. There were many people around the cages and runs but I found several less interesting animals which were alone. I looked at them and talked to them but I wasted words; I stayed indifferent to them despite the fact that their eyes were full of loneliness. So I decided to release them. What did I think? If you couldn’t deal with people, you had to make a start somewhere. With animals! I visited an old wolf, a few impalas, a pair of beavers, some tall birds similar to storks, seven or eight animals in total. I thought I would have to use a knife although I didn’t know if I could come so close to them but finally I did not need it. All the animals, surprisingly, including the antelopes, tasted the meat willingly. I didn’t see them escape from their miserable lives, from their lame fights for an old bone, a bit of room, a few straws, from their laughably small cages. I decided to abandon the sight of their escape in order that I couldn’t be suspected of it and could return to the zoo and help the other animals. I was looking forward to reading about it in the papers.   When I was leaving the zoo, I passed a lion keeper and I put the remnants of the poisoned meat into the bucket he was carrying.

   After I had left the zoo I felt an acute desire to talk with somebody.  I was walking towards the Fifth Avenue when I noticed a man sitting on a bench and reading a book. He was a man about forty, well dressed in a tweed suit, smoking a pipe. I observed him carefully. He looked as a married man, probably with children, maybe with some animals – could he have a dog?  He seemed to need a dog, a cute, cuddly dog that would reduce his loneliness. He looked like a married man with children but I felt his loneliness, sorrow and disillusionment.  I felt pity for him and I liked him. He sat on a bench on the bright Sunday afternoon – without a wife, without children – only with his book and pipe. I knew that I would start talking with him and try to release him from his gloominess I might tell him what had happened at the zoo. I might touch him. I hadn’t touched another human being or an animal for ages. I hadn’t been touched by another human being or an animal for years. Sometimes I felt I was getting crazy. What happened at the zoo? I hated that man who was sitting on the bench as if it was his exclusive property. With his pipe, he looked like a big furious parrot on its perch. Could I release him from his cage? Couldn’t he do it for me? The respectable rich man in tweeds, with his pipe and horn rimmed glasses. He probably did not have a gun or a knife, but I did. What was I planning? What did happen to me? I liked him. I was so tired.  Couldn’t he be the one who releases me from my loneliness?

   Oh my God. Couldn’t he do it?