The Rascally Romance (in a single helluva-long letter about a flicking-short life) - стр. 2

And it would be only fair to note that grim-mouthed pearl-clutching language purists might disapprove of absolutely casual taboo words in The Rascally Romance. Fully grasping their venerable point, I would willingly pull along with the sentiment but for the fear to look a petty diddler. In a true-to-life presentation, you just cannot hold back them those words because life, as it is, would differ from a family movie. For which reason, I expressly discourage any person under 18 years of age to read any further.

I am serious: DROP IT RIGHT AWAY, KID! Before it’s too late…

4. Technical Notes & Self-Appraisal

Letters are not supposed to be split into chapters or parts—which technique would only push the addressee towards unnecessary associations— they just flow on and on, and on, to their end. However, leaving Reader without any map or compass midst hundreds upon hundreds of pages in any direction, depriving them of sort of a guiding star or two seems nothing but inhuman sadism. Not my style, eh? Gentlemanly full of caring compassion for humanoid brethren and sistern, I couldn’t suppress kindhearted addition of The Table of Contents to the work.

Though what else could you expect of a fucking philanthropist, eh?.

5. Acknowledgments & Disclaimer

I thank you all, whose names appear in the tale, as well as those who are not in here (you are indefinitely more in numbers and your contribution to The Rascally Romance having been written after all is equally important).

And of no less significance is Your, Dear Reader, tagging along up to this very line. Because any book can only be produced by the collaborative team of 2: the reader and the author. Thank you, I—(dead serious and no horsing)—am hugely honored by Your most kind cooperation.

And now we’ve just reached the point when everyone has to decide for themselves whether to return to their pursuit of customary business and/or pleasures—to all those pet joys, and daily problems alongside with habitual rewards and outlets befitting people of sober good sort, which (between the two of us, as one buddy-teammate to the other) might be the most reasonable course because you never know what insidious vortexes and currents might lurk out there—or keep rowing on ahead, past and beyond the popping buoy of this here Foreword, a sort of…

Whoa! After such a rambling passage I do have to shut up and take a breather, so feel free to use the lull for making your informed decision…

To be frank, it doesn’t matter how randomly or strictly Your cons and pros are scattered for the choice, and stay assured there’s no way to dump the blame on me because of the disclaimer to wind it all up—

*Regardless of which tack you pick, you’ll never be the same hereafter*

^>~ ~^>~~ ^>~

epigraph:

Looks like that’s it,

In any case, as of yet,

And even if not quite,

Still, sort of, may be,

Because when otherwise,

”Hey, you!.“

Bang and – a-ha!.

Vladimir Sherudillo

…Varanda…

…a handful of random sounds…

…some sonorant nothing… as any other name…

At this distance, the river itself is nothing but a discordant growl of water in nonstop tumbling over them those bulky boulders littered at random to block the way, ramming vainly into their blunt pates, maybe temples, to only get split by their huge indifference into maddened spits, and spill around the gobs of splashy froth, and keep rolling forth in unremitting helter-skelter on, and on, and on without ever getting outside the trap of Here and Now, fixed within futile breakout from nowhere to nowhere, under hollow tam-tam taps, not to time neither in key, by the rounded gravel at the bottom of its riverbed…