Peter Pišťanek - The Wooden Village

When the dustcart comes, two strong men in overalls and quilted belted jackets dump the contents of the container into its craw, and not a trace will be left of Lady.

* * *

Silvia feels a terrible hatred for Rácz and every other man. She badly wants to avenge herself. She has no time to think about it, however, as soon, one nice Friday, she is opening her perverts’ centre Justine. Of course, no mention of it will be found in the daily papers, but this is an important event for the European world of erotic deviants and the pornographic branch of the perversion world.

The two-storey villa that Silvia has bought and adapted, using the money she saved up in Austria, looks impressive; it resembles a comfortable guesthouse. The working area is the ground floor and first floor; Silvia has a comfortable and quite large apartment in the attic.

A few big names in the erotica trade accept invitations to the opening party. For example, the editors-in-chief of the Danish magazines Pre-Teen Sex and Animal Bizarre , who are hoping that Silvia’s company will help them to find new, cheap models, previously unexposed, for their magazines. After some hesitation, Silvia has finally decided to include among her guests her former boss from Austria, Herr Haslauer and his wife. The new staff of Silvia’s company, who only yesterday were on the streets around the Ambassador, are also at the party. Some arrive with friends and husbands. Silvia has understandably chosen for her company only hookers who live an orderly life: married ones and those who live without causing any disturbance. Sexual perverts are very shy people and Silvia will try to create a private club atmosphere where no one is shocked by anything and where any bizarre sexual proclivities will be understood and channelled discreetly and safely. So she needs reliable, intelligent, long-standing employees. The party proves to Silvia that she has got the staff she needs. She can rest content.

Part of the evening’s celebrations is a tour of the Perverts’ Centre . The expert visitors, professionals in deviant sex, appreciate the building’s generously designed interiors, the well-equipped cosy torture chambers for sado-masochist sessions, the large bathrooms for water sports and, in the basement, a small theatre stage for a perverse live-sex show and other special events. Also of interest is a tastefully equipped bar stocked with high quality drinks and a projection screen for video films. In a nutshell, Silvia, as they say, has dipped deep into her pocket.

The evening stretches into early hours. A weekend break follows, and on Monday at five in the evening, the city’s erotic map is lit up by a new sign: Private Club Justine , and later, in the darkness of the night, a neon sign comes on, showing a girl in black stockings wielding a whip.

* * *

A few weeks pass, and Eržika gives birth. Her birth pangs come in the Wooden Village, just as she is lifting a glass of beer to her mouth. She freezes as if paralysed, her eyes pop and she shouts to let Feri know. At the time he is queuing for two portions of grilled chicken, and doesn’t want to lose his place: there are only two people ahead of him. Eržika’s insistent shout drags him from the snack bar. The asphalt pavement beneath Eržika’s bench turns wet in an instant; her waters have broken.

Four-Eyes is on duty: he stands in his white coat in the middle of the Wooden Village. Eržika’s insistent shouts wake him out of his lethargy. In the tiny cranium behind the dark glasses connections are made and he starts running to the lavatories to get his wife. Never mind about the past: this time it’s serious.

Four-Eyes’s wife runs in and she instantly takes it all in. She grabs Eržika by the hand, helps her to her feet and leads her off. “Why are you standing there like a statue?” she goes for her husband. Four-Eyes holds Eržika up on the other side. Feri runs to the snack bar to phone for an ambulance. Four-Eyes’s wife looks round. “Let’s go,” she orders.

Freddy Piggybank is standing calmly in the shade of his trailer, smiling concupiscently as he watches the haughty long-legged beauties cruising outside the Ambassador. He has no work after Lady’s death, so he just lounges about. Thanks to his meanness, he has some savings, so he isn’t starving. He still has his trailer, so he has a place to lay his head. He enjoys all the benefits of a homeless person who has a home.

When Four-Eyes and his wife come, holding up a writhing and moaning Eržika, and demand to be let into his trailer, he does not like it.

“I cleaned it up last Saturday,” he says angrily and bars the trio from entering his den.

With surprising strength, Four-Eyes shoves him aside, and all three squeeze into the trailer. “What the…!” Freddy takes offence, but cowardice stops him from responding to Four-Eyes’s shove. Taken aback, he squints into his trailer. Eržika is lying on his grimy bed and Four-Eyes’s wife is pulling off her wet tracksuit bottoms. Freddy takes a breath; he is about to swear: not long ago, when Lady was about, someone pissed in the corner of his trailer, and now this. But he is quiet, as the sight of Eržika’s bleeding genitals, from which Four-Eyes pulls out a chunk of bloodied meat looking like lungs, keeps him interested. Eržika’s moaning and the bloodied hands of the old woman busy round the wide-open genitals even awaken mild excitement in Freddy.

Feri Bartaloš, breathing hard, pushes him away from the door. “The ambulance number is still engaged,” he tells the old woman. Four-Eyes’s wife sends him to the snack bar for a jug of boiling water.

While the water is boiling, the baby is born. It’s a girl. She’s all wrinkled and cries with a piercing voice. Eržika, tired and sweaty, smiles happily, and proudly holds the baby in her arms. Soon the boiled water is brought. The baby is washed, wrapped in the layette that Feri and Eržika bought long ago, and put in a pram that one of the stokers brought.

They all swarm round the baby, and even the bastard boss is proud.

Only Freddy Piggybank is pissed off; they’ve left a filthy mess in the trailer. Full of hatred, he starts to clean up. With disgust, he slides the placenta, abandoned on the floor, onto a shoebox lid, adds to it Eržika’s wet tracksuit bottoms and, fighting down his nausea, takes them to the skip. Then he goes to the lavatory to get a bucketful of water and carefully washes his trailer clean of blood, amniotic fluid and other muck left behind. Hatred is eating him up, as it does anyone who feels the whole world enjoying things at their expense.

That is why when, at about ten in the evening, an excited drunken Bartaloš comes and invites him to a small celebration in the Wooden Village, he angrily declines, saying that he has a hard day ahead of him.

* * *

Lady’s death has impoverished Feri and Eržika. Reverting to their previous earnings, limited to what they get from the lavatories and from clearing beer glasses, they find it hard, particularly now that they have a child. It is especially hard for Feri. The joint bank account that he and Eržika opened and into which they paid in their hard-earned money every day, has been plundered. Luckily, Eržika knows nothing about it. Feri Bartaloš handles financial affairs; his wife has to do as he tells her. Nevertheless, Feri shudders when he thinks what will happen the day that Eržika finds out that the money is gone.

Feri’s immediate aim is to make sure that the money gets back into their account. Feri has no idea how many crowns he has taken out and lost at cards, but he sees clearly that he has to get it all back. To get it means winning it. Feri believes that Berki’s and Šípoš’s lucky streak must run out sooner or later and that he will start winning.