The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 17

by Jerry Ratch



The next day we were sitting at that same outdoor café on the square, trying to savor a peaceful meal of duck plucked fresh from the Vltava River, when the very same waiter passed by and said, “Bet you wish you had some peeg now, no?” There were cameras swirling all around us. You couldn't eat duck in peace around there. I was signing autographs for tourists left and right. They formed a long line to get my signature. The café owner had hung up a sign saying: “Hero of the Fourth Defenestration, eats here. Caution, he doesn't like peeg.” Very funny. But hey, that is the price of fame. One could do worse!


We started selling six, seven, and eight-inch sections of garden hose along with the signatures, and we were making a killing. Also, we sold clothespins for the nose, painted a nice shiny brown. We were like working class heroes. It's something to be, as John Lennon would say.


One day some very big thick-necked thugs showed up at our table and confiscated everything we were selling. Then they just glared at us, as if in Russian! “Hey,” we yelled, but they just smirked and turned around and skulked away. They were very, very menacing. Absolute brutes.


Well, we needed to do something about this. We consulted with Boris and Vladimir, but they didn't want to get involved when it came to the KGB. That's how much sway the Russians still had over my homeland. “The KGB is watching us, still…” read the sweatshirts. All this while Putin went riding about on horseback with his shirt off all the time, like an ad for Abercrombie & Fitch.


That was when we came up with the mother of all plans. When we told Boris and Vladimir about it, they got real excited. You could see it lighting a fire in their eyes. This could be their revenge, at last. This was way better than even the Velvet Revolution, which was nowhere near as much fun as it could have been.


We decided to make Defenestration a Bohemian Art Form. It was unique, even brilliant, I had to admit.