Troika To Utopia

Coachie: (To horses.) Dare I name names? Eh? What do you say? Names or no names? (Drinks from a bottle.) Name names n’ our hides won’t be worth a fig. We’ll burn twice, yes, you, too, my Orlov beauties, on earth and in hell. Put to pasture all of us. I’ll be chained to a park bench- Tfu! (Spits.) - And they’ll boil your bones for soap. (Whinny.) Just thinking out loud. (Whinny.) You, too, eh? Why not? We all have rights. The right to a bit, harness and whip. Tfu! Nasdrovia! (Drinks.) Maybe just one or two names? (Whinnying.) None. Ok. Have an apple. (Horses balk; frightened.) Easy fellows. No wolves just shadows. Back to work, my dearies. An idle brain’s the devil’s playground. Like that? I don’t. Tfu! (Dons cabbie hat.) What? Who calls? Who wants a ride? Here. Chew this. (Tosses apple at shadows.) Leave me in peace! (To passing public.) Ride, sir, m’am? Tfu! Here, my dearies. An apple a day keeps the haunts away, especially when laced with vodka. Here, my beauties, wet your lips. Apples n’ vodka go far on a winter day. Yes, yes. Mm. The heart needs a jolt when it’s cold n’ it’s always cold. Goddamn cold. Brr! Russians love vodka. It’s the only thing that doesn’t freeze. Like my little joke? I don’t. The older I get the colder I get. (Puts on souvenir apron.) Tours! Notable taverns, famous graves marked n’ unmarked. Sights n’ frights! That’s a twist. Like it, my beauties? I don’t. The truth’d kill tourism n’ topple the government, that corrupt- Sir, Madame, ride a gilded troika, wonder cab of a bygone Monarchy. Gone n’ good riddance. Tfu! Map to the Tsars!