"The Mitki will win exactly because they
don't want to defeat anyone... They will
always be in shit, the losers... (whispering)
and thus they will conquer the world."
(From a conversation with Dmitri Shagin)
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Each word, intonation, pause and gesture of this masterpiece has been polished at the Mitki meetings and congresses where this anecdote has been repeated an endless number of times. It was invariably met with tremendous enthusiasm followed by subdued sobs and oaths to be true to the Mitki cause to the last breath.
So. An ocean liner is crossing the sea. Suddenly the captain from the bridge yells in the loudspeaker, "Woman overboard! Who'll save the woman?"
Silence. An American comes on deck: white shorts, white T-shirt with a slogan "Miami Beach".
"I'll save the woman!"
Elegantly, in one sweeping motion, he unzippers, tears the shorts and the T-shirt away, and remains in steel- colored bathing trunks.
The whole ship watches breathlessly.
The American, showing off his bronze body, approaches the board, gracefully, without touching the railing, flies over them and enters the water noiselessly, without a splash!
He powerfully cuts the waves, swimming in international breast-stroke to save the woman, but... within ten meters from his goal... he drowns!
The captain yells in the loudspeaker, "Woman overboard! Who'll save the woman?"
Silence. A Frenchman comes on deck: blue shorts, blue T-shirt with the inscription "L'Amour Toujours".
"I'll save the woman!"
In one sweeping motion he unzippers, tears the shorts and the T-shirt away, and remains in bathing trunks displaying parrots.
The whole ship watches breathlessly.
The Frenchman approaches the board, soars over the railing like a bird, performs a jump with three somersaults and hits the water without a splash!
He swims in international butterfly strokes to save the woman. But! Within five meters from his goal... he drowns!
The captain rasps in the loudspeaker, "Woman overboard! Who'll save the woman?"
Silence. Suddenly the door to the broom-closet opens. A Russian stumbles on deck, blowing his nose and hiccupping. He is in a threadbare, torn, greasy quilted jacket. His pants form huge bubbles on his knees.
"Which broad? Where?"
He unbuttons the only button on his fly. The pants drop on deck. He takes off his jacket and striped sailors' shirt, accurately laying his cap on top of the heap. He remains in knee-length family under pants.
Shivering with cold, he clutches at the railing, awkwardly tumbles overboard, and falls into the water with a lot of noise and splashes.
And... drowns instantly!
This is the complete canonical version of the story. Telling it to the uninitiated, a Mitki-man is obliged to provide some short commentary. Thus, describing the appearance of the American and the Frenchman, a Mitki-man adds, without hiding his admiration, "In general, a kind of David Bowie! The bastard!" When the Russian appears on deck, a Mitki-man adds with a conspiratorial wink, "A Mitki-man!"
By the way, this story could well be an epigraph to the capital treatise "The Mitki and David Bowie". <...>