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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 65 | volume XII | March-April, 2009



                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 65March-April, 2009

The Eighth Commissioner


p. 1
Renato Baretić

A huge shark circled furiously, and his protruding eyes flashed in every direction. He was hungrier and more dangerous than ever. The white sea surface shimmered calmly about ten meters above him as a small black object rather like a necklace with a pendant broke the surface.
    The shark swam around a little, waiting as the unusual object slowly sank down. Then he recognized it as a rosary. Its hunger-contorted mouth stretched into a content smile, and then spread wide open, as if preparing to swallow a tanker rather than a small set of prayer beads.
    On the small cross, the face of Our Saviour was actually Siniša's. His eyes goggled wide with terror.
    Siniša started from sleep; he pushed back the sheets and jerked up so rapidly that it petrified Tonino.
    – Ha! Ha… Aha… The commissioner gasped for breath.
    – Man, what a dream… A fucking crazy dream.
    – Hey, it's ok. It's fine. Everything is fine now. We've just arrived at Trećić Bay.
    Siniša stared drowsily out the round, droplet-covered window. Nothing seemed unusual, except that the sea had calmed.
    – Are we there yet?
    – In a little while, ten minutes or so.
    – Is there a mirror anywhere? Or a toilet?
    – There's a mirror in the bench beneath you, but as far as a toilet goes… Well, let's just say, I use the stern…
    – You don't have a toilet?
    – Not on Adelina. There's no need for it. But I'd advise you not to go out right now. Can't you hold it for another half an hour?
    Siniša folded the blankets carelessly, set them on a small table, and then lifted up the bench seat. There wasn't a mirror in the bench, but he found it on the underside of the seat. He glanced up resignedly at the smiling Tonino, kneeled down, tucked his lower legs under the fixed table and started brushing up the reflection in the crack-brained mirror. Tonino walked out to the stern and throttled the engine down to a pleasant hum.
    Siniša lowered the mirrored lid, walked around the small table, grabbed a fresh can of Foster's from the facing bench and ambled out to the deck.
    – Her e is! The aicht Trećić poveri is brawlike sae faur![1] – Tonino shouted, and crossed from stern to prow in three leaps.
    On a rather small waterfront, in front of a short row of rundown single-story houses, stood some twenty people under umbrellas. One man stepped out


1. Here he is! The eighth Trećić commissioner is the best one so far!

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