Mystics and junkies

(An excerpt)

Once again, a police raid. They got me and Krasnoludek. They crammed us into the police van and drove towards Batorego. But they did not beat us. Non-censured words were uttered only twice. Scarcely had the cell door closed shut and Krasnoludek started beating at them until he was given a piece of paper and a ball point pen. He began writing a request to the head of the Krakow police to have his death penalty performed as soon as possible. The police officers kept coming to watch him writing and had a good laugh. They took him in the morning to have his photograph taken for police records. Less than half an hour later, an investigator burst into the prison cell. ‘Michaljewski! Pack your stuff!’ I stood up, astonished. One must be careful with the police, as with wild animals, a moment’s hesitation, a single thoughtless move and you get beaten up. He rushed me into his office like a ram, forcing me to run. Several police officers and Krasnoludek were already there. We hastily filled in the release forms. They threw our things at us as we ran. ‘Take the schizo with you!’, the commanding officer shouted. ‘You should have said he’s not normal!’

It was not easy to get Krasnoludek from the police station. He stood still and yelled that he was a citizen of the Polish Democratic Republic and in accordance with the Constitution, he demands the performance of his death penalty. And he sure was strong enough! It took two police officers to drag him out of the building. Only in the street did he stop resisting and we were off. ‘What were you doing back there?’ I asked him when we got on a bus. ‘The usual. I didn’t want to go with them but they told me we would be electrocuted, so I went. They showed me the chair used for photographing and told me it was an electric chair and ordered me to sit down. But I looked at it and didn’t sit down. There are no wires, gentlemen, I told them. They took some cords, attached them to the chair and the other end to a socket. I lay down, arms spread out in the shape of a cross. They started kicking me but I didn’t stand up because you should pray before you die. That was the last straw and they threw us out of the police station’.

Published 19 September 2006
Original in English
First published by Revolver Revue 64 (2006) (Czech version)

Contributed by Revolver Revue © Wojciech Michalewski/Revolver Revue Eurozine


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