A Night in the Cemetery

THE WALLET

Three traveling actors—Mr. Popov, Mr. Smirnov, and Mr. Drummer (Balabaikin in Russian), were walking along the railway tracks one beautiful morning, when they found a wallet. Upon opening it, to their great surprise and pleasure, they were shocked to find twenty bank notes, six winning lottery tickets, and a check for three thousand rubles inside.

Elated with this fortunate and unexpected turn of events, they cried “Hurray, hurray!” They then sat down beside the railway tracks and began to talk about what they could do with this money.

“How much did we find in total?” Mr. Smirnov asked out loud, as he counted the money. “Oh my, we have about fifteen thousand four hundred fifty rubles cash plus lottery tickets. I would die for such money!”

“Not only am I happy for myself,” said Drummer, “but for you both as well, my dear friends. Now none of us will go hungry, or have to walk barefoot ever again. I am also happy about art, and what this will do for our profession, as we are all actors. First of all, brothers, I’m going to head straight for Moscow, to meet with the best clothes designer, Mr. Aiat. I will have him custom design me a real French costume. I do not want to take the farmers and secondary roles anymore. I will only take lead roles of playboys, from now on. I will also buy a beautiful hat and a classy suit.”

“First, I suggest we have something nice to eat and drink,” decided Popov, the young romantic lead actor. “For the past three days, we’ve only been eating junk food. What do you think?”

“Yes, my dear friend,” Smirnov agreed. “We have lots of money and we have nothing to eat at the moment. You know what, Popov, you are the youngest here and you are the fastest walker. Here, take some money—here is ten from the wallet—and fetch us some food. My dear, see that small village over there? There, right behind that hill, see the top of the church? That looks like a nice little town, with a tavern; you should be able to find all we need. Buy a bottle of vodka, a pound of sausage, two loaves of bread, and some fish. We will wait for you here, my talented friend.”

Popov took the money and turned toward town. Mr. Smirnov, with tears in his eyes, hugged him three times, and called him his dearest friend, his angel, and his inspiration. Mr. Drummer also embraced him, with tears in his eyes, and the three pledged to their eternal friendship.

After all this, Popov walked along the tracks, heading for the village. He began to talk to himself. “What happiness is this? Between us, we did not have a single penny, and now we are rich. We’ve really made it big. As for me, I am going to return to my small home town, Kostroma, hire some staff and build a really nice theater. However, with only five thousand you cannot buy even a decent barn. If only the whole wallet were mine! That would make all the difference. Then I could build a huge theater! There you go! My compliments!” he pretended to direct people into his theater. “Truthfully, those two friends of mine—Smirnov and Drummer—are terrible actors. They have no talent. They are complete buffoons. They would waste this money on nothing important, but me, I would bring some happiness to our country and become famous. I know what I will do—I will poison the vodka. Unfortunately, they will die, but there will be a theater in the town of Kostroma, a huge and magnificent theater the likes of which this country has never seen. I seem to recall the British prime minister, McMahon, saying that any actions can be justified if they serve the proper purpose. And he was a great person.”

As he was walking and pondering his choices, his companions, Smirnov and Drummer were having the following discussion.

“Our friend Popov is a nice man,” Mr. Smirnov said with tears on his eyes. “I love him and I recognize his great talent. But do you know what I think? This money will destroy him. He will either waste it entirely on vodka, or he will start up one of his schemes, another faulty business enterprise, lose it all, and destroy himself. He is way too young to have such a large amount of money at his age, my dear friend. Don’t you agree, Drummer?”

“Yes,” Mr. Drummer agreed, as he clasped Smirnov around the shoulders in a brotherly manner.

“He still behaves like a child. What purpose will this money serve him? We are so different from him. We are family-oriented, positive people. For us, some extra money means so much more than just money.” There was a pause.

“You know what, brother, there is nothing more to say. Let us kill him later today, and get it over with. Then, we will both have eight thousand each. When we head back to Moscow, we will say that he was killed by a passing train. I love him dearly, as you well know, but I think in the interest of great acting, above all, and it is the right course of action to take. Besides, he has no real talent and he is as emotional as a piece of wood.”

“What did you say?” Smirnov inquired nervously. “He is such a nice, honest boy. But, on the other hand, to tell you the truth, he is a smart-ass, a nosy little bugger. We’ll kill him now, and he would even be grateful to us for sending him to a better place, I truly believe. Oh, my dear friend! He should not be sad, because when we get back to Moscow, we will write the most touching obituary for the newspapers. That’s what true friends would do!”

They did just as they had said. When Popov returned from the village with the food, his friends, Smirnov and Drummer, welcomed him back warmly, hugged him, and spoke to him for some time trying to convince him that he was a great actor, before killing him. Then, they put him on the railway tracks, to hide the evidence.

After dividing the money that they had found, Smirnov and Drummer, emotionally uplifted, sat down for a drink and a bite to eat, being completely sure that their crime would go unpunished.

But goodness always wins in the end, and evildoers are always punished. The poison Popov had put in the vodka was a very strong one. After their first shot, they were both lying breathless on the railway track.

An hour later, the crows were flying over them, crowing.

This story teaches us that no matter how an actor praises you, calls you his best friend and very talented, never forget that by trade he is, after all, an actor.