– Ariadne!.. Ariadne!.. Save me!
His cries rang out loudly in the silence of the night, though such screams were not uncommon in these slums. Perhaps a startled bystander, awakened in the dead of night, might have wondered upon hearing such an unfamiliar name, but in the slums, women often bore exotic names: Rosa, Lily, Hortensia, Traviata, Viola… In every dark corner, Bulov began to imagine a lurking Minotaur, awaiting human sacrifices. For some reason, Bulov didn't fancy being devoured, so he darted from side to side, grinding his teeth and feverishly trying to recall the name of this woman, but all that echoed in his mind was, 'Ariadne! Ariadne!'
Suddenly, two enormous yellow eyes flashed in the alleyway, and something growled and sneezed as it slowly moved towards Bulov. Seeing this, Bulov screamed madly and fled down the alley, only to collide once again with the wall of a building. Feeling halfway consumed, Bulov turned back, bidding farewell to life, to the stage, to his wife and children, and… unexpectedly burst into song: 'Oh joy, my life!' Before him stood a police car. Bulov dashed towards it like he had only ever dashed towards his mother in his early childhood.
A policeman stepped out of the car.
– 'Where's the split?' he asked dryly and routinely.
– 'That's exactly what I want to find out from you!' exclaimed Bulov.
– 'What, you mean to say we split you?' the policeman took offense threateningly.
– 'No, I always undress by myself.'
– 'Did someone hit you on the head by any chance?'
– 'No, I just got lost…' Bulov hesitated. 'Do you know where a certain whore lives around here?'
– 'If you'd asked about a decent woman, I could have told you – there's one right here, in this house, paralyzed since childhood. But as for whores in this area, there's no shortage. What kind do you want: young, old, blonde, brunette, redhead?'
– 'Blonde!' Bulov cheered. 'Looks like my first wife.'
– 'I never slept with your first wife or your second. Describe your first wife, maybe we'll find your whore based on her.'
– 'Slender, tall, young, with a face that was still… intelligent, eyes like two blue stars…'
– 'Well, well, aren't you a poet!' laughed the policeman. 'That's Kato, daughter of an enemy of the people. Be careful, she might recruit you… as a spy. Get in, we'll take you.'
Gunshots rang out nearby.
– 'It's starting again!' grumbled the policeman. 'Get in quickly, I said, we're taking you to the blue-eyed one.'
Bulov quickly hopped into the police car, and within minutes, Bulov found himself circling Kato's house, they were on the scene. The policeman ascended the stairs first and pounded on the door as hard as he could. There was dead silence behind the door.
– 'Kato, open up!'
The policeman hammered on the door with his mighty fist, like a sledgehammer.
– 'Did she fall asleep or what, damn whore!'
It was three in the morning. Bulov stood behind the policeman's broad shoulders, trembling like a leaf, cursing his love for adventure. For ten minutes, there was no sign of life from behind the door, and for those ten minutes, the policeman pounded relentlessly with his fearsome fist. Finally, a disgruntled voice came from behind the door:
– 'Couldn't find a better time for a visit?'
The door opened, and a startled Kato peered out through a crack. Upon seeing the policeman, she yelled:
