"Strange shadows of the USSR. Can’t get in, can’t get out."
I'm reminded of the cat in The Master and Margarita.
"The cat jumped down from the chair, stood up on its hind legs, put its forelegs akimbo, opened its mouth and said :
'I sent the telegram. So what? '
Maximilian Andreyevich's head began to spin, his arms and legs gave way so that he dropped his case and sat down in a chair facing the cat.
'Don't you understand Russian?' said the cat severely. ' What do you want to know? ' Poplavsky was speechless.
'Passport! ' barked the cat and stretched out a fat paw. Completely dumbfounded and blind to everything except the twin sparks in the cat's eyes, Poplavsky pulled his passport out of his pocket like a dagger. The cat picked up a pair of spectacles in thick black rims from the table under the mirror, put them on its snout, which made it look even more imposing, and took the passport from Poplavsky's shaking hand.
'I wonder – have I fainted or what? ' thought Poplavsky. From the distance came the sound of Koroviev's blubbering, the hall was filled with the smell of ether, valerian and some other nauseating abomination.
'Which department issued this passport?' asked the cat. There was no answer.
'Department four hundred and twenty,' said the cat to itself, drawing its paw across the passport which it was holding upside-down. ' Well, of course! I know that department, they issue passports to anybody who comes along. I wouldn't have given one to someone like you. Not on any account. One look at your face and I'd have refused! ' The cat had worked itself up into such a temper that it threw the passport to the ground. ' You may not attend the funeral,' went on the cat in an official voice. ' Kindly go home at once.' And it shouted towards the door : ' Azazello! '
At this a small, red-haired man limped into the hall. He had one yellow fang, a wall eye and was wearing a black sweater with a knife stuck into a leather belt. Feeling himself suffocating, Poplavsky stood up and staggered back, clutching his heart.
'See him out, Azazello! ' ordered the cat and went out.
'Poplavsky,' said the fanged horror in a nasal whine, ' I hope you understand?'
Poplavsky nodded.
'Go back to Kiev at once,' Azazello went on, ' stay at home as quiet as a mouse and forget that you ever thought of getting a flat in Moscow. Got it? '"
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