The Bathhouse                                                                        

     I dressed, and went out on the street. Suddenly I remembered: I forgot my soap.
     I went back again. They won't let me in, in my coat.
     "Undress," they say.
     I say, "Look, citizens. I can't undress for the third time. This isn't a theater," I say. "At least give me what the soap costs."
     Nothing doing.
     Nothing doing-all right. I went without the soap.
     Of course, the reader who is accustomed to formalities might be curious to know: what kind of a bathhouse was this? Where was it located? What was the address?
     What kind of a bathhouse? The usual kind. Where it costs ten kopecks to get in.