Nighttime had fallen upon the NKVD barracks, and with it came the usual evening ritual of drinking. Ten officers were gathered around a small table, in descending order of rank and equal distribution of drunkenness. They were drawing cards to see who would get to claim the coveted Mrs. Arvydas for the night.
"I swear, Polzin, if you rigged this deck again, I'll feed you to the dogs," the second highest ranking officer threatened, pointing a shaking finger at the officer across the table from him who was shuffling the cards. His menacing countenance broke, however, and his threat was met with uproarious laughter.
"Come off it, Komorov, you're just sore because she saw the size of yours last night!" the highest ranking official, Bronyev, cackled. He howled and banged the table with his fist, and was joined in doing so by the other officers, save for Komorov himself. The victim of the insult fumed silently, but was unwilling to stand up to his superior.
"Maybe I should rig the deck," Polzin suggested slyly. "We wouldn't want her to be disappointed two nights in a row, would we?"
Instantly, the cramped room erupted again. Men blew cigarette smoke in each other's faces as they praised Polzin's and Bronyev's quick wit. Komorov squeezed his shot glass in his fist and strained as if to crush it.
However, one man was notably reserved from the merrymaking. He was seated next to Komorov. "What's the matter, Kretzsky?" the man at his left, Ruytrin, taunted. "Not enough vodka in you?"
"Yeah, how come you're so quiet?" Polzin leered at him, fanning the cards in front of Kretzsky's face. "Choose one."
Kretzsky selected a card and studied it for a moment as each officer took his own card as well. "Maybe he's got disappointment in his pants, too!" Subronov piped up and new waves of laughter seized the group. This time, even Komorov joined in. Kretzsky continued to stare at his card.
"Give him another shot, it'll loosen him up," Bronyev instructed with a slap on Komorov's shoulder. Komorov hastened to pour Kretszky more vodka. Kretzsky tipped his head back and downed the shot easily.
If the other officers hadn't been drunk out of their wits, they might have noticed that every time Kretzsky raised the shotglass to his lips, he missed his mouth purposefully and poured the alcohol down his neck and into his uniform. He hated alcohol.
"Alright," Polzin sighed and set down the deck. He flipped the top card over. "Who has the closest to a king of hearts?"
"Damn, I have a king of clubs!" Bronyev cursed and threw down his card on the table. Others were subject to the same outburst as they discovered they had cards of a different suit.
"I have a ten of hearts," Subronov grinned ear to ear like a child that just won a prize at the carnival.
"You lucky bastard," Rutyin shook his head forlornly and guzzled vodka straight from the bottle. A few men whistled at the fortunate winner.
"Hey, wait a minute," Komorov interjected. "What's Kretzsky got?" All heads turned to the officer in question.
"Queen of Hearts," Kretszky said quietly and set his card down on the table face-up. The other officers fell silent. Kretszky kept his eyes downcast on his hands in his lap.
"Well, shit, why didn't you say something?" Polzin questioned incredulously, puffing smoke heavily into Kretzsky's face, who coughed but said nothing else in reply. "You won."
"Yeah, Kretszky, do you want to sleep with her or not?" Komorov chuckled slightly, obviously under the impression that his question had only one answer. Kretzsky failed to provide any response.
"I don't believe it," Subronov murmured, swirling his vodka around his glass. "He doesn't want to."
"I don't think you should be gambling for this woman like she is just some prize to be won." Kretszky spoke quietly to his lap, but his voice had an air of finality to it.
"Oh, humanitarian now, are we, Kretzsky?" Bronyev jeered maliciously. "Go and get castrated alongside all the other softies and see how far that takes you."
"Can't cut off what he doesn't have," Rutyin supplied much to the delight of the officers, finding a new topic to laugh raucously about.
"You're right," Bronyev laughed. "Even if he did have sex with Arvydas, he'd be an even bigger disappointment than Komorov!"
"Or if he did have all his genitals, he'd still be so tight he couldn't pull out!" Polzin's comment sent such mass hilarity coursing through the group that several doubled over and cried, wiping their tears on the backs of their uniform sleeves.
The sound of breaking glass silenced the men immediately. "Stop." Kretzsky rose from his seat and, leaving the shattered remains of his shotglass that he had crushed behind, started toward the door.
"And here, have your beloved card, too," Kretszky spat and flung the card at the wall behind Bronyev's head, narrowly missing him. It stuck in the wood like a dart on a dartboard. "Fight over it like the animals you are."