Parallel Slalom

The project 'Parallel Slalom' is a mode of simultaneously writing 'parallel' stories by two authors on a previously set theme, chosen via a specific procedure. During the eight years of working on this joint venture, Ogurlic and Jurkovic have written more than a hundred parallel stories. This project gave birth to two books; 'Parallel Slalom' (ICR, 1989), and 'The Most beautiful Stories - Parallel Slalom 2' (Tiskara Rijeka 1993) and to a homonymous theatre production by Rijeka's ensemble 'Otvorena Scena Belveder'

Ogurlic '89

JERRY E. WALSH (1866-1945)

- Has anyone anything to say before I come out? No-one? So, I will be the first to speak - boasted the slobbering McMillan, dioptric monster with short limbs, a Scotsman from the vicinity of Dachau, during the Businessman Congress held in Oklajawa.

- Who could ever think that the whole thing would start in such a manner? Not me - babbled the bat Galaw, pulling remote monitors out of his ears, while anyone could see, from aside, how corn protruded from his back.

- I am the oldest one here - said Parker, an old corpse whose brain and entrails were eaten by a vulture and so now he was forced to wander around the world with an oxygen bottle to be refilled on the ninth day of each month.

- You have already said everything you have to say. And now, myself - said Greg Murdock, thrusting forth his enormous split snake -like tongue, all wrapped up in ivy leaves dripping horse's spittle.

But they all shut up as soon as Jerry E. Walsh (1866-1945) appeared at the door. Jerry was a young and handsome protestant whose face was showered with the kisses of his female fans who waited for him for hours in front of the Congress Hall. A general hush was stirred with Jerry's morning perfume 'Fresh and Business' while he went towards his seat at the back of the hall.

- Sorry I'm late, folks - he said, upon which his face transformed into a bleeding crust, an adder wiggled out from his bosom, and his brain poured off into the ashtray of his neighbour, businessman Kowalski felt so sick from that scene that he started to vomit.

Jurkovic '89

JERRY E. WALSH (1866-1945)

When I saw my brother's sepulchre, the first thing that annoyed me was that the stonecutter engraved my brother's death year in advance. Who would dare to prejudice such things? True, my brother is heavily ill, but it is humane to wish that he lives for some time yet. Otherwise, I am satisfied with the quality of the marble and the rest of the performed works. The second mistake concerns the year of birth; despite my insisting on engraving the whole date, the stonecutter engraved only the year - and the wrong one too. Jerry is my brother, and was born in 1917. The most annoying thing, quite understandably, is the fact that my brother is called Jerry E. Walsh and not Damien Hardy. Damn it, the stonemason cannot take such a liberty as to change a man's name, and bury him alive as well. However, apart from that, all the jobs on the tomb have been done very well. The sepulchre is even patinated. I insisted upon patina despite the craftsman's scepticism. My brother will be pleased. The more so because his sepulchre is not on the hill near the crematorium, but in the elite part of the graveyard, where ambassadors, captains and politicians are buried.