- ERNŐ RUBIK – Cube
I am not any perfume lover. I neither use nor sell them.
More than that – I don’t feel much of the perfume smells.
That is because of my nose and my scull which were heavily broken during another small War where the Soviet Army did not take part, as usually, then back in 1970-th.
For your better understanding of the times of that another “not War at all” I just dare to explain you such things: when me and my six the same way heavily wounded 22-years-old camarades soldiers were visited by the headquarters’ officers in the Vladivostok City Military Hospital – they were asked us:
– What can we do to you, as you are the heroes from now on? Shading your blood, losing your body-parts on the Far-East Battlefields you save our Motherland as also as the Peace on the Planet. Ask whatever you want. You’ll have it here immediately.
– Vodka? – asked a guy with his battle-name Sokol (minus eye, broken spine, metal crate instead of his teeth).
Generals nodded in agreement. Yet doctor pleaded in his non-brave trembled voice, –
– Not vodka, please… At least here, in my neurosurgery department..!
– Then what?! – continued to insist the generous generals.
We realized we could have literally everything that minute, probably. And according to our young nature we asked for a new mysterious gadget we widely heard those days of.
– Rubik’s Cube..?
– One? – was generals’ astonished adding remark.
– Six! For each of us altogether! – was our unanimous arrogant confirmation.
We knew we could demand for totally everything that historical day, because we were told we just saved the World! Still we asked for just six Rubik’s Cubes for each of us.
Shortly, in the next three days, a big military airplane delivered from Moscow to Vladivostok the first ever six (!) multicolored Cubes designed by Mr. Ernő Rubik.
Those cubes were made of glossy plastic which smelled like the whole Future!
Still I was not able to enjoy the smell, because my nose was deeply stamped into my head and instead of my neck those days I had an open wet bloody hole there.
Hundreds of other wounded soldiers from other hospital departments were jealous to us. They were coming toward our door and stayed watching or listening as we happily click-clacked our own Rubik’s Cubes with either both our hands (those who had two of their hands still in belonging) or with one (those who had such a bad luck).
We were totally happy those days having our penicillin injections and the Magic Cube tactics disputes…
- EVES ROCHER – Spray
My beloved Wife new everything of nice clothing, interior design, colors and smells.
Our shopping usually ended in perfume boutiques with her sigh of despair:
– I adore that smell! – cried she.
– Then let us buy it. – answered I.
– We cannot afford it. It is too expensive! – was her the next well known answer.
– My dear, let me do a gift for you?
– No! You’d rather bring some perfumes to me from your next business-trip from abroad, okay?
– Okay, but why not today?
– Conversation is over! – was then her usual answer. And I obeyed her, hearing my first colonel’s notes in her voice. Yet I was a senior sergeant.
Still, another day it was my own non-controlled revolt. That day I demanded from my Wife:
– Take all the perfumes you were dreamt of!
– Then we’ll be ruined! – shouted she in despair.
– Don’t make me tell it again. – Ordered I, adding, – Dear.
And that very moment she decided to obey me.
She became so decisive to take three different bottles repeatedly pronouncing aloud the perfumes’ names which mean nothing to me, except of their price. And I was lucky to afford them then.
You, my dear readers, can’t imagine and I was not prepared to see my Wife Nataliya Shakhray such totally happy as I saw her that very day!
– I always knew that you love me, my dear! – Shouted she exaggerated.
– I do, I do! – Repeated I several times, – Did you dare to doubt it?! You know you are my Only Lovely Lady. You are the Dearest Woman in the World for me.
And we returned home that evening. And she put those three perfumes bottles on her shelf among her other small treasures.
And since then I see all three of them every morning I approach the mirror to shave. They stood shining among a dozen of such things women need to have in their belonging to be sure they are beloved. Even when they pass away, as it not so long happened to my Dearest Wife.
She died soon in a month after we bought those perfumes from Mr. Eves Rocher.
Thank to these two men we both, me and my Wife, were really happy in our days.
Despite of they are not magicians but just producers, they managed to do this for us.
Volodymyr Serdiuk. Cube and Spray. Short Story. July 2016. Kyiv, Ukraine.