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to anybody?
Why can't the proletariat leave...
...his dirty galoshes downstairs
instead of dirtying the marble?
- But the proletarians don't have any
galoshes at all, Philip Philipovich.
- Nothing of the sort.
They do have galoshes now
and those galoshes are mine!
The very same galoshes
that disappeared in 1918.
So the question is who pinched
them? Me? Impossible.
Sablin the bourgeois? Polozov,
the sugar manufacturer? On no account.
It was done by those
songbirds up there.
Bu if only they would take them off
when they go upstairs.
Why on earth did they have to remove
flowers from the landings?
Why does the electricity, which if
I remember right only failed twice
in the past twenty years...
...now go out regularly twice a day?
- It's Disruption, Philip Philipovich. - And
what does this "disruption" of yours mean?
An old woman with a broomstick?
A witch who smashed all the windows
and put out all the lights?
No such thing. What do you
mean by that word?
I'll tell you what it is:
If instead of operating every evening
I were to start singing in chorus...
...in my apartment,
I would get Disruption.
If when I go to the lavatory I don't pee,
if you'll excuse the expression,
into the bowl but on the floor instead...
...and if Zina and Darya Petrovna
do the same, there would be
Disruption in he lavatory.
Disruption, therefore, does not happen
in lavatories, but in people's heads.
So when those baritones start
howling "Away with Disruption".
Really, I laugh.
It means that every one of them should
hit himself on the back of the head!
And then when he has knocked
all the hallucinations out...
...and gets down to cleaning out the barns -
which is his job in the first place...
...all this Disruption will
disappear of its own accord.
You can't serve two gods,
dear doctor.
You can't sweep the dirt out of the
streetcar tracks and settle the fate...
...of some foreign beggars
at the same time.
You sound like a counterrevolutionary,
Philip Philipovich.
Nothing dangerous. Nothing
Incidentally, that's another word
I simply can't stand.
What the devil is it supposed
to mean, anyway? Nobody knows.
So, there's nothing counterrevolutionary
in what I am saying.
It's full of sound sense
and a lifetime of experience.
Merci. Do you need me this evening,
Philip Philipovich?
No, thank you. We won't
do anything today.
For one thing, the rabbit is dead,
and for another there's "Aida"
at the Bolshoi tonight.
It's a long time since I heard it.
Do you remember that duo?
- I'll go in time for the second act.
- How do you find time for everything,
Philip Philipovich?
One can find time for everything
if one is never in a hurry.
I believe in the division
of labour, Doctor.
Let them at the Bolshoi sing and
I shall operate. And that's right.
And there'd be no Disruption.
Is you flank going to heal soon?
And there's something else, Ivan
Arnoldovich, be on the lookout,
as soon as there is a suitable corpse...
...take it straight from the table,
place it into the nutritional fluid
and bring it to me.
Don't worry, Philip Philipovich,
the pathologists have promised me.
Professor, it will be an experiment
unparalleled in the world.
No doubt. Meanwhile, we'll examine
this neurotic street Arab of ours.
Soon we'll need you.
I am handsome.
Perhaps I'm a dog prince,
living incognito.
I wouldn't be surprised if my grandmother
had had an affair with a Labrador.
That explains the white patch on my snout.
I wonder how it got there?
...from Seville to Granada...
in the still of the night...
You can here the serenada...
Oh you are like a devil! Stop it!
Zina may be back any minute.
What's the matter with you -
have you been rejuvenated too?
I don't need rejuvenating!
You're so passionate!
Get out, get out!
Shameless bastard! I'll hit you
with a log, don't you spy on us!
I didn't clear it up on purpose so
that you could take a good look.

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