Biography
Which savory snack proffers the better, more robustly satisfying luncheon?: Egarov‘s pies or Raskolnishev‘s pancakes? That is the question to which this timely musical interlude devotes itself.
Of course, neither Egarov nor Raskolnishev were particularly deft outside of the kitchen and pantry - both were noted for their somewhat ungainy mien and genenral clumsiness. Egarov, in particular, had a marked knack of falling off chairs! An incredible sight. Truly, no sooner was he on the seat - he was off again! There he is now - just look! Such a wanton taking-leave of polite society - a breach of the peace, some might say.
Raskolnishev was, mind you, none the better in this faculty. Likewise , he didn‘t know how to sit on a chair, and was always falling off.
They say that the pair did actually meet on one occasion, to sit down to cream tea with jam and scones (no flour). What a sidesplitting spectacle they made! The pair of them sitting there… and one minute, whoosh! Egarov has lost his moorings from the chair; the next minute, wallop! Raskolnishev is down, arsee-versee! So, what we have here: at one end of the table there is Egarov; at the other Raskolnishev - up and down, to and fro, the both of them. Sheer hooliganism. A rambunctious disorder, truly. You‘d laugh like there were no tomorrow!
The inability to remain steadfastly seated was not without consequence for neither of our culinary friends. Over time, it caused the appearance of a small pimple on Raskolnishev‘s index finger; and during times of acute falling-from-his-chair, Egarov was aflicted with a twiching left nostril coupled to a similtaneously twitching right eyebrow.
Despite the fact that Egarov was really quite adept at lying on his bed - one might even go so far as to say he was positively adroit at this, indeed as good as anyone, assuming, that is, one discounts the occasional malintended tumble onto the floor - Egarov‘s dreams began to take an unexpected twist, that is to say, they were coloured by the episodes of slippage from seated perches, or, put simply: Egarov‘s instability on a chair began to affect his dreams. It impinged on his dreaming, you see. Or if you‘d prefer, the dreams he had - they took a sudden and dramatic new direction!
So anyway, he started to dream differently, ok? And, instead of falling off his chair, Egarov dreamt he was floating up to the ceiling from the secure haven of his bed. Eventually he would drift down again and everything would be fine, as before. That is, until it happend again. And again. And, as Egarov gently floated up for a third time toward the ceiling, this time he stayed there, tethered to the ceiing, owing to the fact that his hair was made of velcro, and the roof of the opposite velcro. The curoius thing was though, Egarov further dreamt that his brother was in the next room, similarly floating upwards from his chair and sticking to the ceiling, due to the fact that his hair was similarly made of velcro.
So there they both are, the two brothers in two rooms, suspended from the ceiling by velcro hair, snoring away, in a deep and peaceful slumber.
And that, dear reader, is how the term velcroBROTHER came to be in the world
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