Peter Pišťanek - The End of Freddy

“Our kayaks will be here shortly,” says a guerrilla introducing himself as Sirovec-Molnár, apparently a chieftain with a full mandate. “They’ll take all the cargo to the shore. We have put out guards, but the area’s clear. I think we chose the right spot.”

Indeed, by the side of the submarine appear a few dozen boats crewed by strange little people dressed in furs.

“May I invite you on board, Mr Sirovec?” says Kubeš.

“Call me Frolo, for God’s sake!” says Frolo Sirovec-Molnár, and good-naturedly slaps his shoulder.

“Well, in that case, I’m František, but you can call me Franta. Can I offer you a glass of anything?”

“I’ll offer you one; let me!” says Frolo Sirovec-Molnár, takes a bottle of clear liquid from his fur jacket and hands it to Kubeš, who doesn’t want to look soft and so puts the bottle to his mouth and takes a sip.

“I distilled it myself,” says Sirovec-Molnár. “From the best flour and sugar.”

Kubeš is not used to such powerful distillates. For a moment he is completely knocked out: his breathing stops and he has no voice.

Frolo Sirovec-Molnár takes the bottle and drinks from it. Then he passes it round those officers who are unluckily on the bridge at the time.

Unloading the crates goes smoothly. The kayaks, loaded way above their gunwale, vanish into the darkness, and others come from the shore.

Not even four hours pass before Bouček reports to the commander that all the goods are unloaded. Kubeš says goodbye to Sirovec-Molnár who boards the last kayak.

Then Kubeš goes down to the command centre. He inspects the hold. It really is empty.

“Well, senior bosun Bouček,” he says, “You’re now a passenger on our boat. The cargo hold is empty, so we have no duties for you. Would you like to stay ashore?”

“I’d rather not, commander,” says Bouček. “I’ll find work on board.”

“I’m sure you will,” says Kubeš. “We’re not used to passengers here. Now, gentlemen, we’re off to our friends on the Carabella for more cargo.

* * *

If it weren’t for Sida, Zongora’s dream of instantly becoming a great porn star would have evaporated in the humiliatingly small routine roles that Freddy started him off with.

“A young man has to begin at the bottom,” Freddy declared when Sida told him to give Zongora a more important role. “He can get used to film world first, so he doesn’t get so randy that he shakes like a leaf.”

And so Zongora had to start from scratch. Although he got a fine stage name, Luigi Longo, he still cleaned up the stage after the shooting of piss and shit films. Only later did Sida secure him his first role of doorman in the film Anal Castle . But in that film he doesn’t copulate, he only wanks. And he cleans, too, first in front of the camera, as part of his role, and then after shooting, when the camera is off.

Gradually, however, Freddy, under Sida’s influence, gives him bigger and bigger roles. Finally the day comes when Freddy gives him the main role in the film The Goddess of Vengeance.

For his small roles in earlier porn films, Zongora got only a pittance, but that was fine as a bonus to his worker’s salary. He couldn’t splurge on that pay, but he was happy to have a foot in the porn industry, his long-standing dream. Some admire the work of ambulance drivers; others prefer lorry drivers. Zongora was impressed by people in pornography. And becoming one of them was for him an achievement in itself. But it was only a temporary achievement: he was aiming higher.

The Goddess of Vengeance brought him a substantial fee, compared to the modest sums he had been getting. So Zongora began to think about resigning from his long-term day job. After The Goddess of Vengeance came The Crazy Angel of Torture Room II, and then a real full-feature porn film roughly based on de Sade’s notorious 120 Days of Sodom . In this seventy-minute, uro-scatological, pseudo-pædophile and fetishist work he had the main role. His fee was more than all the money he’d ever seen in his life. He could finally leave his austere room in the Slovnaft barracks and rent a studio flat in Petržalka, a suburb of Bratislava. The new place was just as bleak, but it lacked the noise of distant plants, the hissing steam, the stench of tar products, or the sighs and farts of fellow boarders to whom Zongora no longer had anything to say.

He can’t talk to anyone. He looks at his colleagues in the oxygen plant with the condescending expression of a man fortunate enough to get a look behind the curtain of boring, pathetic everyday life. “What do you know, you poor buggers?” he thinks, sneering at their everyday hustling for cheap thrills: family, children, trips, watching films, going for a walk. Luigi Longo aims higher: a luxury flat and perhaps in the future a little villa with a swimming pool, a good car, Porsche or Ferrari, holidays in the Mediterranean, just what he always wanted. He’s got used to judging everything around him from a pornographer’s point of view. He buys a bunch of radishes at the grocer’s and can’t understand what keeps the beautiful young shop girl in these dusty, dirty, smelly premises. Why doesn’t she cash in as a porn actress? She’d be sure to make much more money than here, selling carrots and fruit juices.

So the time comes for Zongora to leave Slovnaft. His male porn star career is coming along nicely and the security of a permanent job at Slovnaft no longer has the appeal it had only recently. So he gives notice with a light heart and leaves. He doesn’t even say goodbye to his colleagues: he’s never been very close to them and they, too, were estranged from him when they sensed that, underneath, he despised them — unlike Czanner the businessman, who always buys something from Slovnaft and never misses a chance to visit the oxygen plant where time has stopped. Czanner is stupid and will never be one of the élite. Zongora will leave at the end of the workday and will never come back.

Anal Castle (The Castle of Sin)

The castle owner and his wife put on a special dinner for a business partner. The business partner and his wife arrive in a Porsche. A doorman lets them in. After a short welcome, dinner is served. At dinner, the partner’s wife asks the castle owner to show her the hothouse. There, the castle owner undresses the woman (leaving her, of course, in a black corset, black stockings and pumps). For a while, he penetrates her genitals and anus with various exotic fruits that he grows. Soon they begin to engage in passionate sex: anally, of course. After anal sex in various positions, the partner’s wife fellates the castle owner. He sprays her face with semen. Meanwhile, the lady of the castle shows her husband’s partner their precious collection of erotic art. Viewing this collection so excites the partner that he tries to rape the lady of the castle. She hardly resists, but the business partner can’t get an erection. So he tries to satisfy her with cunnilingus, while she unsuccessfully tries to make him hard by masturbation. Finally she takes a lump of salami off the table and masturbates with it. The business partner takes a corn on the cob, spreads butter over it and puts it in her anus. The doorman spies on them through a keyhole. He can’t hold back and starts to masturbate. His huge ejaculation makes a mess on the floor, but the doorman has to put his trousers on and flee, since the castle’s owner and his partner’s wife are returning from the hothouse. Traces of all sexual activity vanish and a dignified, if over-formal politeness reigns again between hosts and guests. Only the lady of the castle notices a huge pool of semen on the floor behind the door, as she serves coffee. Since she has nothing at hand to wipe it off, she discreetly licks it up with her tongue.