The чувак пребывает

The чувак пребывает

Way out in East there was this fella — fella I wanna tell ya about. Fella by the name of чувак. At least that was the handle his loving parents gave him, but he never had much use for it himself. The чувак, he called himself the чувак. Now, чувак — that’s a name no one would self-apply where I come from. But then there was a lot about the чувак that didn’t make a whole lot of sense. And a lot about where he lived, likewise.

But then again, maybe that’s why I found the place so darned interestin’. They call Norilsk the Bleakest City on Earth. I didn’t find it to be that, exactly. But I’ll allow there are some nice folks there. ‘Course I can’t say I’ve seen London, and I ain’t never been to France. And I ain’t never seen no queen in her damned undies, so the feller says. But I’ll tell you what — after seeing Doncaster, and this here story I’m about to unfold, well, I guess I seen somethin’ every bit as stupefyin’ as you’d see in any of them other places. And in English, too. So I can die with a smile on my face, without feelin’ like the good Lord gypped me.

Sometimes there’s a man — I won’t say a hero, ’cause, what’s a hero? But sometimes, there’s a man. And I’m talkin’ about the чувак here. Sometimes, there’s a man, well, he’s the man for his time and place. He fits right in there. And that’s the Dude, in Russia. And even if he’s a lazy man — and the чувак was most certainly that. Quite possibly the laziest in Siberia, which would place him high in the runnin’ for laziest worldwide. But sometimes there’s a man, sometimes, there’s a man. Aw. I lost my train of thought here. But — aw, hell; I’ve done introduced him enough.

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