THE GOLOSH

By MICHAEL ZOSHCHENKO

IT isn't really difficult to lose a golosh on a tram. Especially if other passengers push you from side to side, and if some clumsy devil treads on your heels from behind. To lose a golosh under such conditions is as easy as winking.

It did not take me more than two seconds to lose my golosh. It all happened before I had time to open my mouth, so to speak. As I mounted the tram, both my goloshes were on. I remember that perfectly well. I remember touching them with my hands before I got on— just to make sure I still had them. And as I came off, I glanced at my feet, and there was one golosh staring at me, but the other was gone. My boot was on. And the sock was on. And my trousers. But the golosh wasn't there any more. And the tram had disappeared from sight.

Of course, I could not start off chasing after the tram. I took off my remaining golosh, wrapped it up in a news- paper, and walked off. " When my work's finished," I said to myself, " I'll go in search of it. I don't like losing things. I'll find it somewhere." So, after work, I did go in search of it. First of all, I asked a tram-driver for advice. He was very hopeful, indeed.

" You ought to be thankful that you'd lost it on a tram," he said. " I couldn't guarantee anything if you'd lost it in any other public place. But a tram's as safe as a State bank. We have a special place for lost things. A Lost Property Office. You just go there and get what you've lost. As safe as a bank ! "

" I'm most obliged," I told him. " You've taken such a weight off my mind. The great point is that the golosh is almost new. This is only the third winter I've been wear- ing it."

On the following day I went to the Lost Property Office. " May I, dear Comrades, have my golosh back? " I ask them.

" Of course, you may," they tell me. " What sort of a golosh? "

" Just an ordinary golosh," says I. " Size twelve."

" We p'rhaps have twelve thousand goloshes size twelve," they tell me. " Has it any special marks? "

" Well, ordinary sort of marks," says I. " The heel, of course, is worn down, and there isn't much left of the lining inside."

" We p'rhaps have more than a thousand goloshes like that," they tell me. " Are there any extra special marks on it? "

" Yes, I'd say there are some extra special marks. The toe is nearly off, and the heel is nearly worn through. I'm rather heavy on my heels. But the sides are all right. The sides are still holding together."

" Sit down for a moment," they tell me. " We'll have a look."

And a few minutes later they bring me my golosh!

I can't say how glad I was. I was almost moved to tears. What efficiency, what smooth working of a public institu- tion! And what high-minded people! To think of all the trouble they'd taken about my golosh!

" I'll be grateful to you till my dying day," I told them. " Thank you, my friends. Give it to me, give it to me quick. I'll put it on straightaway."

" Beg pardon, dear Comrade," they tell me, " we cannot give it to you. You must bring us a signed declaration that you really had lost a golosh. Your House Committee must sign the declaration. Then we shall let you have the golosh without any further formalities."

" Brothers," I said, " dear Comrades, but the House Com- mittee don't know anything about this matter. P'rhaps they won't sign the declaration."

" Oh yes, they will," they told me. " It's their business to sign."

I took another look at the golosh and went away.

On the following day I went to the President of the House Committee.

" Write me a declaration, quick," I tells him, " or my golosh will be lost for good."

" Is that true? " says he. " Have you really lost a golosh, or are you pitching a tale? "

" It's truth I'm telling you. I lost it."

" You write the declaration then, and I'll sign it."

So I sat down and wrote the declaration. Next day the Committee gave me the paper, signed, and off I went with it to the Lost Property Office. Would you believe it? Without any trouble, without any further fuss, they gave me back my golosh.

And when I put it on, I felt quite moved again. What wonderful efficiency! What an honour to live in such a pro- gressive country ! In any backward country, would they have taken such trouble about my golosh? Would they have wasted their time on it? No. They would have chucked it out of the tram, and have done with it. But here, after only a week of enquiries, I get it back! There's smooth working of administrative machinery for you!

The only annoying thing is that during this week of running to and fro, I lost my other golosb. I was carrying it with me all the time wrapped up in paper, under my arm. And I don't remember where I left it. I'm sure it was not on a tram. That's the worst part of it. Where shall I look for it now? (Translated by Elisaveta Fen.)