Public Republic

Ivailo Dimanov

Photo: peasap

Even if you live well, one day you’re sure to run out of money.

I took my TV in my arms and went straight to the pawn-shop across.
“No way,” – the man was adamant. – “The warehouse is full of home appliances. People bring along plasma TV-s, home video systems and laptops. Someone even left a mother-in-law. Didn’t even ask for money: just for as long as she lasts… The other day a fellow offered the national security, but who would want it.”

“Don’t you perhaps need organs?” – I asked timidly. “They are in demand in the West.”
“No, thanks” – the boy said, “we have a grand piano, a harpsichord. Imagine adding an organ to this menagerie!”

“No, my friend, not musical organs, human ones! Heart, liver, meat, tripe-soup, you get it? We strike a bargain, you pay me, I sign a declaration and when I die, you take the respective parts, O.K.?”

Half an hour later the deal was made.

I sold almost everything. We called a doctor to check and prove my good health. I handed him my health security book with a little something for him inside. When he spotted George Washington, he immediately forgot Hippocrates.

That’s how I managed to shove in my liver together with the cirrhosis! For $ 250. I managed to sell the heart at a very good price, too. With its mitral valve disease, pericarditis and rheumatoid arthritis. The angina- pectoris I bargained separately. I got rid of my whole spinal column, the sciatica and the lumbago I offered as extras.

I had difficulties foisting the water in my right knee. Still, in the end they bought that, too. And it’s no wonder – with the current price of the water in Sofia …

Now I am rich.

It is true that when I die my nearest and dearest will encounter some difficulties with my funeral, for they will only be left with my hip joint, my left ear and the baseball cap.

Even the lungs will be missing.
I exchanged them for a pair of white monasteries.
Despite all, the deal has its advantages, too.
The American, who bought my liver, sends me a case of best-quality bourbon every week. To prevent me from drinking the local bad stuff.
An elderly Canadian lady is watching over my gall-bladder and is feeding me with juicy citrus fruit.
Some bodyguards are always accompanying me, protecting my conversional body, in order to prevent an occasional damage to my Achilles, or any other sold part.

I haven’t had the opportunity to travel while alive, but when I die, I will become citizen of the world! My heart is going to England, my kidneys – to Japan, the cornea of one eye – to Australia, the retina of the other – to Mexico. Even my spleen – this old, rusty French horn, won a trip to the Maldives.

I shall live my second life embracing the two hemispheres!

And with a grin I shall remember the days when I was alive, but… (alas!) Bulgarian.

Translated from Bulgarian by Petia Tsenova