Never whistle indoors or you’ll lose money

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[Scene: Ivan’s cozy kitchen in St. Petersburg. A kettle whistles on the stove. Alexei is leaning against the counter, casually whistling a tune while scrolling on his phone.]

Ivan (wide-eyed):
Alexei! Stop that immediately!

Alexei (startled):
What? The kettle’s allowed to whistle but I’m not?

Ivan (serious):
You’re whistling indoors, man. Do you want us to go broke? That’s like begging the domovoi to empty your wallet!

Alexei (chuckling):
Ah, yes. The infamous whistling-curse. Come on, Ivan. I’ve been whistling inside since I was ten. I still have a job, a savings account, and my grandmother’s antique tea set.

Ivan (crossing his arms):
Maybe you’re just lucky. But I’m telling you, I once whistled in my old apartment and the very next day my bank card got blocked, my rent was raised, and my cat knocked over a bottle of vodka. That’s a sign.

Alexei (laughing):
That’s not a sign. That’s life. Your cat knocking over vodka is not a mystical omen—it’s just gravity and poor placement.

Ivan:
You mock now, but it’s all connected. My babushka never let anyone whistle indoors. She said, “You’ll chase away your fortune with your own lips.” And you don’t argue with babushka.

Alexei:
Okay, fair. I wouldn’t argue with your babushka either. But let’s test your theory. (He whistles a short tune.) There. Now let’s wait and see if my money disappears.

Ivan (panicking):
Stop it! That’s not how it works—you don’t challenge these things. They know when you don’t believe. It makes it worse!

Alexei:
“They”? Who? The invisible ruble thieves?

Ivan:
Maybe! You science types always want evidence, but some things aren’t meant to be measured. Superstitions are part of our culture, our identity. They keep us grounded. Like knocking on wood, or sitting silently before a trip.

Alexei:
True, I sit before trips too. But more to avoid forgetting my charger than to ward off cosmic chaos. Look, I respect traditions, but let’s not confuse cultural rituals with cause-and-effect. There’s no peer-reviewed study showing that whistling indoors depletes your bank account.

Ivan:
You and your peer reviews. Tell me, has science explained why, after you broke that mirror last year, you had car trouble every week?

Alexei:
Yes. The car was a 1997 Lada. It didn’t need a broken mirror to fall apart.

Ivan (grinning):
Still. You admit it felt like bad luck.

Alexei:
Sure. Humans are pattern-seeking creatures. We see two events and tie them together. But correlation doesn’t mean causation. Otherwise, I’d think my coffee caused snow because it snows every time I’m five minutes late for work.

Ivan:
Look, I get it. Maybe there’s no scientific proof. But sometimes, these little beliefs add charm to life. They make you pause, reflect. Maybe that’s the real reason—not fear, but mindfulness.

Alexei (softening):
Now that I can get behind. Rituals as reminders. But let’s agree on something—next time, when I whistle indoors, I’ll toss a coin into your “anti-curse jar,” just in case.

Ivan (smiling):
Deal. One ruble per whistle. That way, if we do lose money, at least we’ll know where it went.

Alexei:
Fair enough. And maybe we can use the jar to buy a better vodka bottle your cat can’t knock over.

Ivan:
As long as you promise not to whistle while pouring it.


[They both laugh and clink their mugs, superstition and science finding a middle ground—somewhere between tradition and tea.]

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