Rastaman folk tales: About the war

Rastaman folk tales: About the war
(everybody tells this story is the funniest one)

It is how it was during the war (as one guy told me). So, bloody Nazis came and conquered all the city. All true guerillas run away to the woods and are hiding there. So, they're hiding and, finally, they used up all condensed milk. And SPAM as well. And bread as well. And lard as well. And potatoes as well. And home-made pickles as well. And jam as well. And sausages as well. They even ran out of rolling paper - do you think it is possible to live like that? They gathered a hands-on meeting and decided to send a scout to the city, because, y'now...

But the scout had cold feet. He tells: "Guys, be realistic! There are Nazis in the city - they gonna kill than eat me. Those bloody Nazis can expose any guerilla as 1-2-3 and arrest ASAP." But the comandante cheers him up: "Warm up your feet, man! Really, there is not reason to have cold feet there! It is only propaganda that they are so insightful, but they, y'now... Wear dark glasses, camouflage yourself a bit and nobody will be able to expose that you are a guerrilla. And don't walk in zig-zags and, umm... Yes! Watch your mouth, m'kay? You'd better just keep mum and don't ever laugh, got it? There is nothing funny there at all. It is not a big deal they are Germans and talking German... Well, nobody's perfect, and it is simply not nice to laugh on it. Maybe, they are also laughing on us. But they are laughing respectably, not like BWA-HA-HA! You'd better do not laugh at all and watch your mouth, and nobody will uncover you.

The scout refuses: "It sounds so complicated, man. Don't laugh, watch your mouth, walk straightly... I am not such a monster, bro! And those dark glasses. They will recognize that I am a die-hard guerilla as soon as they see dark glasses." The commandante tells: "Do not have cold feet, man! Nobody will expose you." The scout asks: "Are you sure that nobody can expose me?" The commandante answers: "I am 100% sure. Nobody will ever expose you... if you won't expose yourself." The scout replies: "You are probably so damn sure you won't give up yourself in this situation. But I am not that sure about myself. If you are so sure, take my bag and go there yourself, if you are so sure that you won't give yourself up. Look at me than look at you - who is looking more respectably?"

Then, all guerillas started to yell: "Yeah! Yeah! He is right, comandante, indeed! You are only of us who still looks like a normal man with decent attire and so on." After that, they collectively show him the door and send him to the reconnaissance mission. They give him a bag, pitched in some money and put in his pocket a five-pound bag of weed. And sent him to a reconnaissance mission.

So he is coming to the city on a rail tracks. Because it is already night and commuter trains are not going anymore, so his is going on the tracks. He goes and goes and, suddenly: bang! bang! bang! Somebody bangs his buns from behind. He continuing to walk, wondering: who is it? Banging my buns? Probably, a tourist. Definitely, it's a tourist. Damn tourist. He is going behind me and taps my behind, so I turn around. No way! I will not turn around. Why the heck I need to turn around? Really, some freaky tourists are walking around my butt - why should I turn around on everyone? Don't I have better things to do than turn around on tourists? And he goes straight without turning around.

Again, something is banging his buns. He thinks: no, it's not a tourist. Regular tourist would already chicken out. It is a bear, indeed. A big, like 700 pounds, bear. It is coming behind me and taps my behind. Taps and taps, dammit! I will turn around, tell him to go to hell then go further.

So, he turns around and tells: "Bear, go to hell!" Look - there is a train engine there. It rests again his butt and honking like a hell. His friend engineer leans out of the cabin and yells: "Hey, guerilla man! Where are you going?"

The guerilla answers: "I am going to the city. For a reconnaissance mission." The engineer tells: "What are you, nuts? There are bloody Nazis there, they'll arrest you immediately." The guerilla replies: "Don't bullshit me, man. They won't expose me - look at my camouflage! I am, like, a normal square man in decent attire and so on." The engineer argues: "Normal people do not stop trains with their butts." The guerilla tells: "Why you think so? You don't even know, what kind of squares there are! They actually do. Let's have a smoke, then you'll bring me to the city, because I am already damn tired to walk. I am walking for three hours, like an idiot, then somebody starts to bang my buns - it's so annoying, man!" The engineer answers: "Okay, let's have a smoke."

So, they arrive to the city in a really good mood and go visit the underground resistance fighters. The underground people are sitting in their underground and writing a proclamation to the nation. They are writing it already for a week but no luck. Sometimes the guitarist plays off key, sometimes the vocalist sings out of the tune; sometimes drums bang something totally wrong - like a rattle. Sounds like a high school band. But they want something really cool like Bob Marley or Peter Tosh or at least Damian Marley. But no results. So they are sitting there in severe depression for already a week... boozing hard, of course. And writing their proclamation. Suddenly, the guerilla comes and bring five-pound bag of ganja. "Don't worry, be happy - let's smoke!" - he tells.

They smoked, took their instruments and started to jam all of a sudden! Like a hell! They started to make such a proclamation, it is even better than Bob Marley's! But when nosy neighbours heared that, they called bloody Nazis immediately: "Please come, as there is a domestic disturbance here. Those hooligans are making loud noises in afterhours and disturbing our sleep."

So Nazis came and told: "We already know you, underground guys. We warn you last time: don't even you dare!" They they noticed the guerrilla and asked: "Who is that?" Undergrounders answered: "It's a relative from a Hickstown. He came to apply to the university." Nazis replied: "We know who he is! Look in his eyes - he is a guerrilla, indeed. Okay, smart guy; put your clothes on, we'll bring you to the Gestapo."

They came to Gestapo and told its chief: "Here, we caught a guerrilla." The Gestapo chief answered: "Wow, cool! They brought a guerrilla here! Let's torture him!" The guerrilla told: "Are you seriously into BDSM, officer? Why torture? Let's have a smoke instead." The Gestapo chief replied: "We can smoke later, it's not a rush. Tell me, where guerrillas are hiding." The guerrilla meditated on it a bit, then told: "Yes! I just remembered! They are in woods!" The Gestapo chief argued: "Could you please be more specific? Not just "in woods". We already know that they are in woods." The guerrilla meditated on it little bit more and told: "Um, well... When you enter the woods, turn little bit on right, then on the glade, then straight, straight, straight, straight, straight... stop! It should be a turn somewhere. Okay, don't mind, you just go on the glade, well, this way sucks, it should be a better road, let me remember... Let's smoke first, and I'll remember all the details." The Gestapo chief answered: "No way! We will not smoke, but torture you. Then, you will remember everything and stop bullshitting us."

The guerrilla told: "You can't be serious, officer. You are such a nice person, why you behaving like a Nazi? Torture, torture... Here I am! Torture me, Nazi bastard! Cut me into pieces! Eat my shorts! I don't fucking care as I am a guerrilla! I fucked your Hitler!" And, without waiting until they start to torture him, he grabbed a razor from the desk and started to cut himself! All bloody Nazis are damn scared - they grasped his hands, seized the razor and told: "Calm down, dude! Let's better smoke." But he still yells: "Bastards! Nazis! Dirty pervs!" - and trying to bite thru his veins. The bloody Nazis tied him to a chair, but he falled down together with the chair and started to strike the concrete floor with his head. Even the Gestapo chief became so shit scared and called the mental asylum.

Rough asylum attendants came, injected the guerrilla with mind-controlling drugs, threw him into the car and brought to the asylum. In the asylum, the shrink tells him: "Why did you make such a douchebag of you?" The guerrilla answers: "But why did they bully me like that! We will torture you! We will torture you! They even didn't let me smoke, bastards, bitches, damn Nazis." The doctor replies: "What Nazis are you talking about? There are no Nazis here."

The guerrilla told: "Ha! Nice bullshit, man. What you mean - there are no Nazis? I saw them with my very eyes." The shrink answered: "It doesn't really matter what you saw." The guerrilla replied: "I not just saw them. They even arrested me." The shrink told: "Who arrested you? Nobody arrested you, stop bullshitting me, young men."

The guerrilla told: "Who is bullshitting whom? If so, who brought me here to this asylum, eh?" The shrink replies: "What asylum are you talking about? There is no asylum here."

Then, the guerrilla told: "What a crap? There is no asylum, but there is a shrink." The shrink answered: "There is no shrink, too. There are no asylum attendants, too, as well. There are no Germans, too, as well. There are no Russians, too, as well. There are no Jewish, too, as well. There are no Chechens, too, as well. There are no Kazakhs, too, as well. There are no Armenians, too, as well. There are no Frenchies, too, as well. There are no Japanese, too, as well. There are no Chinese, too, as well. There are no Vietnamese, too, as well." Finally, the guerrilla dug this tune and started to bang it. The shrink took a guitar and a 90-minutes jam session is started.

After that, the guerrilla asked: "So, is it really no Nazis at all?" The shrink answered: "You bet! There are no Nazis and no you or me. It is just a one huge delusion about there is something somewhere. But there is only nothing anywhere, dig it? Look, man, how cool it is: there is nothing anywhere at all." The guerilla finally dug it! Oh boy, it is so funny! He made fun of it for whole three hours, even tired of making fun.

Then he told: "Wow, it is so cool! There is nothing anywhere. There are no bloody Nazis as well. I must go to the woods and tell my comrades. They are sitting there so scared they even can't go to the city to buy some bread." The shrink answered: "You didn't quite get it, bro. There is no city. There is no bread. There is no your comrades. There is only a global delusion which everybody believes in, like little suckers, like if it something somewhere."

The guerrilla replied: "No, I can't agree with you on that. Okay, there is no bloody Nazis - this is even cool. There are no comrades - okay, I don't fucking care. No means no, all are agreed. But it must be something somewhere, dammit! Somewhere must be something real, concrete. Otherwise I am totally lost."

The shrink told: "You know what, bro? Hang around here just for a week. Relax, fix up your mind. After that, you will be able to dig everything as it is." The guerrilla replied: "I am really sorry. You are a good man and everything. But you, probably, will excuse me. I'll sit here just for a little bit then I have to go to catch the last train. Because, you know, it is so boring to walk back to the woods by the rail tracks on your own feet... I also need to buy some bread, as well. I really have to go now." The shrink answered: "No problemo, guerilla man. Lets have one more smoke and you can go everywhere you want." And he fetches an already rolled joint from his desk.

So, they smoked. Then smoked some more in the morning. Then, followed it up at night, played on guitars, sung some songs, drank some tea. Everything is great when you follow up such a nice day schedule! Then, in the morning, they picked some weed on the front lawn and cooked some brownies. Bit by bit, the guerrilla is finally settled in asylum. It is so cool in an asylum - people are really funny there, coolest freaks at all. They sowed all the backyard with the weed, they even have a six-acre farm in countryside. Next fall, they all went there to harvest. At this time, the guerrilla remembered that he needs go go to the woods. So he took a train and went to the woods.

In the woods, comrades told him: "Such messengers are good only for calling the Death! While you were out, Americans sent us humanitarian aid corned beef. And English sent us humanitarian aid condensed milk. And Dutch sent us humanitarian aid selected weed. Do you see how cool it is to be a guerrilla? You sit on your butt doing nothing and everybody helps you. Then, our troops will come and give us all medals or even higher decorations. Our people must win because they do not have any other choice. Our Forces will come, and everything gonna be all right!"

Original Russian text: (c) HighDuke

Ã�Ã*ñòÃ*ìÃ*Ã*ñêèå Ã*Ã*ðîäÃ*ûå ñêÃ*çêè :: Ã?êÃ*çêè è ïðî÷åå

English translation: (c) juzy

juzy: Ã�ŸÃ?â?¬Ã�¾ Ã�²Ã�¾Ã�¹Ã�½Ã?Æ?