Short Fiction

Prime Kolbasa & Punishment

May 14, 2013

Ivan Ivanovich Ivanovichyakovsky woke with a vengeful indigestion in his bowels. It was the middle of a frigid winter night, and he hardly made it to the privy without messing in his linen breeches. It was a shameful night, but he had had it coming.

For the past few days he’d done little but gluttonously consume cheap potato vodka and kolbasa sausage. He would stand in line at the local market, sometimes for an entire hour, just to buy his precious kolbasa. Oh, how Ivan loved his sweet sausage.

His family of eight lived in a farm house no larger than a washroom. His wife complained that he was lazy, fat, and stupid—and that he never shared his kolbasa. And so he believed that perhaps he was, and perhaps he never did. But…so what? At least he had his sausage. And nothing could fill a man like good sausage. Nothing except faith.

But Ivan considered himself a man of faith as well. And had made it his duty to attempt to share passages from the holy book with his children on a nightly basis. He chose excerpts at random, and skipping words he could not pronounce, read aloud to them by candlelight.

Little Andrei, who was seven years old with a head full of blond hair, would sit at his feet and pose questions Ivan did not know the answers to, such as: Where is heaven? Where is hell? and, Why would god become jealous of his own creation? Ivan ignored the towheaded fool and forgave himself of this ignorance, for he believed he had an abundance of faith that made up for his lack of aptitude for answering such questions.

Despite his efforts Ivan could not help but cogitate as he sat shivering in the wooden outhouse on a particular question little Andrei had posed that night. The little voice resounded in his mind. Why don’t you ever share your kolbasa with us? the boy had asked with a protruding bottom lip, outwardly marking his sadness and contempt. Ivan had been petrified. He nervously chuckled, and tried to answer, because… he stammered, because… but after realizing there was absolutely no answer that he could give that would sate his son’s query he snapped the holy book shut and sat silently on his wooden stool. How dare Andrei question his faith?

His seven innocent children sat cross-legged in front of him with condemning stares. His eyes widened as he felt their heavy gaze. He felt so entirely vulnerable, so exposed, and soon sweat began to bead down his rosy cheeks.

What, am I on trial now? he thought. He rocked back on his stool, and it creaked beneath his fat, overbearing thighs. They remained silent while he receded into his own wanderlust thoughts as the seconds of silence passed. It was a shameful sight, for every moment that passed each of them grew more patient, and more expectant of an answer. Finally, he abruptly shooed them off to bed with an explosive reprimand, and went outside for a cigarette.

On the porch he scratched his balding head, and looked up and down the country road, lined by trees. It was barren. He reached into his peacoat and from one of the inside pockets removed a foot long fresh kolbasa he had picked up from the market earlier that day. He peeked through the cracked front door to make sure his children were not spying on him from the other side, and nibbled indulgently on the sausage. He relished as its greasy, smoky flavor erupted into his watering mouth. It was his forbidden fruit.

His wife, Elena, had opened the front door and cut his tryst short, forcing him to stuff the sausage in his coat and go back inside to tuck his children into bed, Andrei continuing to pout and stare with his glowering eyes all the while.

Now, late into the night, Ivan groveled in the freezing outhouse, muttering about his misfortune. “Oh merciful god!” he repeated, again and again. His faith was faltering. The freezing wind seeped through the shoddy outhouse walls, and he gazed through a crack between the boards. He could see the snow, a tree, a fencepost, and the glowing candle flickering through the side window of his house. He was trapped, for now, and so he sat silently, searching his wits for an answer to give his little son Andrei the next time he asked him about sharing his sausage.

How could he say that he would not share? Could he say it was because he was greedy? Could he tell his children that his sausage was his own last refuge? No! He would not feed their ravenous little mouths with his precious kolbasa—it would be gone in mere seconds! They would devour it like a pack of wolves.

At that moment a thought flashed through his mind, and a smile spread across his face. I will simply eat the rest of it all right now! Ha ha! he thought, laughing to himself in a maniacal tone. He opened his pea coat, removed the foot long sausage, and started to nibble on it once again.

After he took a few bites he had an epiphany. Perhaps this sausage is no good! Perhaps I’ve been deceived by some devil…and this sausage is actually some low grade meat! That’s why I’m sick! That is why I am sick! Oh God! What Evils were stuffed inside this falsity I was told to be a sausage!!!

Oh, how his faith was shaken…so brutally shaken. He spit the chewed mouthful out onto the floor, and held the sausage up to what little light there was shining down from the moon. “That scoundrel Boris sold me shit kolbasa! That Judas!”

Ivan began having grandiose daydreams of how he would exact his revenge. But he reasoned that none were worthy of execution. He kicked the outhouse door open and threw the foot long sausage out in a final renunciation of his faith. It landed, sticking straight out of the snow. He shut the door, and continued to ponder his misfortunes.

“These meat vendors think they can give you anything they please and keep your money without feeling a hint of guilt!” He held his breath and pushed with all his might, his face turned bright red, nose trembling as the veins in his neck bulged with his rage. Suddenly, he heard a strange noise outside, and the anger inside him immediately simmered. Ivan tried to get a glimpse through the crack of what it was that made the noise.

After a few moments he saw an outline of fur and claws. A bear! he screamed (in his mind). The creature had caught scent of the sausage and wandered from the forest to inspect it protruding from the snow. Ivan gasped in fright, and took a few panting breaths. A brown bear…Do I hallucinate? He sat, deliberating his next move. He was so utterly conflicted. Do I risk scaring it off? Do I watch my innocent kolbasa’s final moments? Can I sit idly by whilst my sausage is sacrificed?

His mind was in a state of tumult. He sweat profusely, watching the bear curiously sniff the meat erect in the snow. Ivan regretted throwing his sausage out there; he had paid for that kolbasa! Whether it was made with beef or fish, or even pig guts! He would be damned to let a mangy bear enjoy his hard earned treat! I’ll be damned to let a mangy bear enjoy my hard earned treat!

In a wave of courage Ivan kicked the door open and stood stoutly in the outhouse’s threshold. He pointed at the bear and shouted. Get! Go! Shoo! But the bear simply stood on its hind legs and stared at him. Ivan’s eyes narrowed and he stepped out into the snow. That’s my kolbasa, bear…he whispered.

The bear roared, and Ivan buttoned up his breeches. The bear dropped down on all fours again and continued to lick the sausage. In an instant Ivan lunged forward and grappled the bear’s enormous brown head. The bear growled and tried to stand, pawing at Ivan’s great fat belly. Its claws cut him deep, and blood ran down his linen trousers. Ivan cried out in pain, but refused to give up. He wrestled the bear for his kolbasa, and lost. He lost horribly.

His wife ran out on the porch and fired a shot from their hunting rifle. The bear ran off, leaving Ivan bleeding in the snow. She ran to his side and embraced his sweaty head in her lap. All their children lined the porch and watched with eager eyes.

Andrei ran down to his father’s side and watched the bear run off into the forest. Elena saw the life fading from Ivan’s eyes, and noticed that he was chewing. After a few moments the chewing ceased, he swallowed, and died smiling. She cursed him bitterly.

A few feet away, Andrei saw a small piece of something in the snow. The boy knelt down and picked it up. He sniffed the morsel, placed it in his mouth and grinned.