Shit I've Gotten into with My Bro Pierre Bezukhov, by Anatole Kuragin

Wait wait wait...have I TOLD you the bear story yet? So we get this bear, right? And the vodka was really flowing that night, and then there’s this cop... Oh, have I told you guys this one already? Yeah! We tied the bear to the cop and threw them in the river! Yeah, sorry, I guess I must have told you that one. You know it was my buddy Pierre who did the honors, though, right? Everyone assumes it was Dolokhov’s idea, but let me tell ya, wild as Fedya is, he’s got nothing on Pierre. That guy is an absolute ANIMAL at parties. So I guess everyone knows the bear story since we all had to lie kinda low for awhile after that, but boy, is there more I could tell you about my man Bezukhov. 

COUNT Bezukhov now, LMAO, right? Who’d have imagined THAT? Look, I was hanging with Pierre back when he was just good old P. Bezzy, none of this COUNT shit, alright? But then again this Count shit couldn’t have happened to a better dude! When you think of the old Count, the man who boned the empress, handing down his title to this guy? Petey B. has less game than the third string. This guy’s just like “Napoleon this” and “Bonaparte that” and you watch the chicks just start laughing awkwardly. But what they don’t know is that this man is a LEGEND.

So, like, you’ve only heard one of the bear stories. There's another one. This one time we got another bear and Dolokhov is all like “hey he looks like Pierre,” right? So P. Bezzy, he takes off his hat and puts it on the animal, and we’re all like “DUDE, he looks JUST like you!” So next thing you know the dude’s stripped off his coat and waistcoat and we’re all dressing the bear! Not gonna lie to you guys, the pants were kind of a challenge, and I’m not gonna tell you there were no injuries, but all pretty minor. So anyways now there’s this bear and we’ve got him suited up down to the fuckin CRAVAT and we’re all like, “oh hey Bro, man you’ve gotten hairy.” And we’re all invited to Anna Pavlovna’s that night but here’s Pierre just chillin in his shirtsleeves and no one wants to undress the bear, so the dude just looks the animal straight in the eye, and—straight face—is like, “Pierre, shouldn’t you be getting to the party?” and we’re all like “HELL YEAH!!!” So we all jump in the carriage and the bear’s still dressed as Pierre and the driver just has this look on his face like “Holy shit that’s a bear,” and we just smile back like "yeah dude it's a bear," and we roll into Anna Pavlovna’s with me and Fedya on either side of the bear and the first person we see is Anna Mikhailovna so we’re like “Oh hey, Princess Drubetskaya, you know Pierre?” and man the look on that chick’s face! The real Pierre was hiding by the door the whole time and he just LOST it! 

Oh, speaking of Anna Mikhailovna, that’s another one! So this one time we’re just having a real chill night, right, nothing crazy, just me and the boys and a couple of bottles, and the conversation comes around to the usual crowd and we’re kinda laughing at how good old Annushka’s always trying to pull strings for Boris, right? So Pierre’s like, “oh my god, I’ve got an idea, gimme her number,” and we all start messing with him like “oh, Pierre, didn’t know you were so into MILFs,” and he’s like, “No, guys, just listen.” So he calls her up on speaker and he puts on this super fancy voice and he’s like, “Is this the home of Boris Drubetskoy?” cause we all knew Boris wasn’t there cause we'd just seen him, right? So we’re all trying to keep ourselves from laughing and we have no idea what he's gonna say next. So when she says Boris isn’t home he’s all, “Have I the honor then of speaking with his mother the Princess?” and he goes on and says his name is Alexei Alexievich or something and he’s calling on behalf of the Emperor to offer Boris a promotion. So her voice goes up like three octaves and—and at this point Fedya’s got his hand over my mouth to keep me from laughing, right?—and she’s all, “Tell me, TELL ME! What is this honor?” And Pierre looks at the rest of us like, “wait for it, bros,” and he tells her: “His majesty the emperor would like to offer your son the position of Raclure de Bidet” and deadass HANGS UP! Ah man, what a guy. 

Not even Dolokhov is as crazy as this guy, you know? He thinks he is, though, I know! Always hanging out of windows and trying to get people to bet him fifty imperials he won’t down a bottle of rum right there with his ass half off the windowsill like he’s about to fall to his death, right? It’s only foreigners who ever take him up on that, by the way, cause everyone in Petersburg knows he’ll fuckin do it. So this one time, we’re chilling at the old count’s palace, and good old Fedya D. sees a new window and a new face and is about to pull his usual stunt, he’s got some English guy about to put real money on him doing what we all know damn well he’d do for free. So anyways he’s hanging out the window now all “Look, ma! No hands!” making this big show of waving his arms around and finally he throws back the rum and then out of fuckin NOWHERE comes Pierre just as he’s got his eyes closed and the bottle raised and he just fuckin PUSHES him! And so Dolokhov, he drops the rum and starts flapping his arms like he thinks he’s got wings and we all see him just FALL like it’s in slow motion and we’re all like “what the fuck, dude, you killed Dolokhov!” And Pierre’s just like, “No I didn’t, there’s a balcony there” and then we all just ROARED. Fedya comes back up trying to be cool acting like he def wasn’t scared for his life but also like he had no idea that balcony was there—I think he actually didn’t man, he’d had a few. But really he was just pissed he was out fifty imperials. 

Oh man, I could go on and on, but all this food’s not gonna eat itself, right? So anyways, all of this to say, I’m not losing a sister, I’m gaining a true BRO, as real as they come, so now let’s raise our glasses to the bride and groom, shall we gentlemen?

A special thanks to Alison G. for help with ideas on this one. The reader will note that 1.5 of the anecdotes above are based on events that Tolstoy actually included in War and Peace. The rest are born of the union between imagination and early Pierre's frat boy vibes.

How to Live a Count Fosco Lifestyle in the New Year

 

I’m back, following an extended social media break. I read A LOT while I was away. Among the many tomes I’ve enjoyed in the last several months was one of my old favorites, The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. Rereading this pure joy of a Victorian thriller, I was reminded that one Count Isidor Ottavio Baldassare Fosco is quite possibly the best villain in all of literature. I know what you’re thinking, reader: short of conspiring to cheat a beautiful and vulnerable heiress out of her fortune and joining an international network of aristocratic spies, how can I be more like Count Izzy Ottavio BADASS Fosco? Well, you’ve come to the right place:

1. Add a second middle name, if you don’t have one already. Sounds aristocratic. I recommend “Baldassare,” regardless of your gender. Be sure to use all names when you introduce yourself, but you can go by just one thereafter, like Cher or Dante.

2. Choose an unusual pet and get a few dozen of them. You’re a person of mystery now, so you can’t have the human entourage you deserve. What you can do, however, is find yourself a group of friends who will never talk. Mice work well, but if you don’t pull it off just so they might give you a kind of Cinderella vibe, which is not what you’re going for, so you might also consider exotic birds and/or a few small monkeys. 

   
   
   

3. Whenever a musical instrument is at hand, offer to explain and demonstrate to your companions the superiority of your favorite composers. Actually, don’t offer, just do it. Then ask them if they agree, but make it rhetorical. Of course they agree. You’re Count Badass. 

4. Learn to play the concertina. An accordion will do, too, but do choose one of the two and master it because this is very important. No other instrument has quite the same quality of vague and pleasant surprise. Recognizable yet eccentric, exotic yet familiar. Play opera on it. 

   
   
   

5. Learn to sing and do it completely unapologetically in borderline inappropriate situations. I don’t mean that you should burst into song whenever you want, like a character from a musical or something. I do mean that your crush’s morning walk should be punctuated by your performance of Figaro.  

6. Eat dessert first. And second, actually. Hell, make a meal of it. You’re Count Isidor Ottavio Baldassare Fosco. Who’s going to tell you no?

7. Dress extremely well, but loudly. Invest in some quality formalwear, but not your standard rental variety. You’re going to need a collection of waistcoats in the finest fabrics and in colors that scream “this look works against all reason.”

8. Impress your crush with your gentle and generous heart by telling them about all the times you could have murdered someone but didn’t. Bonus points if love of them stayed your hand. Expect credit for this! Not every villain/spy/all-around BAMF has a tender weakness to do them such credit. 

   
   
   

9. Become very mysterious about your reasons for leaving your hometown. You don’t want to come out and say you were exiled, but a longing sigh here or there would not be misplaced. If you haven’t left your hometown, I’m sorry but you’re going to need to pretend that you have. A subtle accent might help. 

10. Be both discreet and totally conspicuous. Look, you’re going to have to have your secrets, and if you don’t, you’re going to have to pretend like you do. But at the same time, never under any circumstances should you blend into a crowd. If your booming tenor doesn’t give you away, it might be your purple velvet cravat or the cockatoo on your shoulder. Stand out!

11. Find a solid sign-off for emails and other communications. Receive these fervid lines. They are worthy of the occasion and of
    FOSCO