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Michail Bulgakov.
The heart of a dog --------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 1968 in the English translation by Michael Glenny Collins and Harvill Press London, and Harcourt, Brace & World Inc, New York.
OCR:Scout --------------------------------------------------------------- One Ooow-ow-ooow-owow! Oh, look at me, I'm dying.
There's a snowstorm moaning a requiem for me in this doorway and I'm howling with it.
I'm finished.
Some bastard in a dirty white cap - the cook in the office canteen at the National Economic Council - spilled some boiling water and scalded my left side.
Filthy swine - and a proletarian, too.
Christ, it hurts! That boiling water scalded me right through to the bone.
I can howl and howl, but what's the use? What harm was I doing him, anyway? I'm not robbing the National Economic Council's food supply if I go foraging in their dustbins, am I? Greedy pig! Just take a look at his ugly mug - it's almost fatter than he is.
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