One bright summer morning, Ivan Kroutikhin went quite mad.

He was a tiny, balding, elderly man, with hunched shoulders.

After a hasty breakfast, he patted the toast crumbs off his usual shabby suit and shuffled towards the door.

"Stop!" said his wife, Ira. "You forgot the garbage. It's stinking up the whole apartment."

"I'd prefer not to. It will make my suit smell."

His robust, large, redheaded wife flew into a rage and slammed the door behind him.

"Don't come back, you ingrate," she shouted from the top story window. "I'll do everything myself from now on!"

Walking to work, his only friend, Leo, approached him and asked for a small loan to tide him over for the weekend.

Ivan winced as the tall, heavy man breathed alcoholic fumes in his face.

"I'd prefer not to. It will mean I'll have to do without lunch again."

"See if I talk to you again, you selfish imp," cursed Leo and stalked away.

At work, after he had perched behind his desk and began his book-keeping task, his boss, Alexander Korjev, a great big potato of a man with a voice like a fog-horn came in, swore at him for incompetence, and showed him how he had entered some figures in the ledger incorrectly the previous day.

"Fix this right now," he shouted.

"I'd prefer not to," said Ivan.

"What! What did you say to me? How DARE you speak to me like this...you, you...pipsqueak!"

"You heard me correctly," said Ivan. "I said, I'd prefer not to. In fact, I'd prefer not to work for a man who treats me like a fool."

Shuffling to his feet, Ivan walked toward the door, leaving the seething, red-faced man staring at his back.

On the bus, the burly man with the thick black coat and a pinched face like Lenin said, "Excuse me, sir. But for the last ten years I have never seen you smile before or even look up from your shoes, can you tell me why you are smiling like an idiot today!"

"It's because I'm having the best day of my life."

"Rubbish," said the man. "In these times, it's not possible."

"Listen," said Ivan, a note of authority in his voice (which even surprised him): "You, too, will have the best day of your life when you realize that the gift is yours, and it's an amazing journey, and you alone are responsible for the quality of it."

The bus pulled to a stop a few block before the Kremlin. The man got up, then suddenly turned to Ivan and pulled out a fistful of rubles from his big coat and started stuffing them into Ivan's breast pocket.

"What are you doing," cried Ivan, alarmed. "Have you gone quite mad?"

"Yes," said the man, laughing. "I'm paying my obligation to you right now."

"Wait! " said Ivan suddenly as the man started walking away. Rising from his seat, he followed the stranger off the bus.

"How should we begin?" asked his new friend, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.

"I'm not sure," said Ivan, wiping his own tears. "It's such a large adventure."

The best day of your life is the day you decide your life is your own.

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