The Story of Peter Petržalka

One dark and stormy night in Bratislava, late in the year 1947, Peter Petržalka was walking home from work. He lived on the south side of the Danube River, opposite the city, in a small house. As he crossed the narrow footbridge spanning the river, he thought, “I wish they’d build a proper bridge. They’ve been talking about it for years.”

Peter had scarcely given the bridge anymore thought when suddenly, high up in the sky, there appeared a bright light. But as quickly as it appeared, it vanished. Peter scratched his head. A chilly wind blew in fast.

“What the—?! I’ve gotta lay off the borovička,” he thought.

Shaking his head, he continued on his way as a heavy rain began to fall. As soon as he reached the opposite side of the bridge, the mysterious light appeared again. Then another light appeared in the sky. Then another. Soon there were six lights. They only seemed to get bigger and bigger as they advanced like an ominous plague towards the city. The lights then descended and grew bigger, brighter. Soon Peter realized they were giving off a strange humming sound. He wasn’t at all afraid, but rather he found himself oddly comforted by the spectacle.

Peter turned off the bridge and started down the street towards his house. All of a sudden one of the lights burst red and an enormous fireball shot forth. Then another fireball and then another! One of the balls hit what was left of the old castle and set it on fire. Another light turned red and it, too, shot forth a giant fireball.

“Oh no!” cried Peter.

The lights were, in fact, giant flying saucer-like machines which spun around faster and faster, making Peter’s head ache. These machines emitted an acrid smoke that burned Peter’s nose.

Quickly, Peter ran for cover. He found an abandoned tank left behind when the war ended and the Nazis hastily surrendered to the Red Army and hid behind that. The flying machines kept firing away, hitting buildings and anything in their path. Screams erupted from the terrified townspeople. He could hear them on the other side of the river. Peter knew what to do.

“This must be the communist invasion they keep talking about. It has to be! I’ve got to defend the city!”

He mounted the tank and found his way to the main gun, trying to figure how it might work. “With any luck there’ll still me some ammunition left inside this,” he muttered as he climbed in.

Now there were nine, and finally twelve, flying saucers. Peter took hold of the trigger. As luck would have it, the gun was still loaded! He fired away into the night sky. Several of the saucers got hit and exploded. One, however, got away and skimmed over the river towards the city center.

“No!” Peter cried. He continued to fire several more shots from the battle-worn tank. Finally, the last flying saucer caught fire, spun around, then plummeted headlong into the waters of the waiting Danube River.

“Take that!” he said, satisfied with his work. Then everything fell silent

Many years passed by. Peter lived his life quietly. Preferring to put out of his mind that night in 1947 when he defended Bratislava. The communists—by now well-established—had salvaged a UFO from the Danube, and on a whim of insanity, they decided to mount it on top of a new bridge spanning the river; the very UFO Peter had shot down! A ceremony was held in 1972, commemorating the opening of the bridge, but Peter was not invited.

In 1989, the communists realized they were no longer popular. After weeks of citizens protesting against them, they decided to step down and give power back to the people. Peter was finally called upon to attend a special ceremony given by the mayor. On the day of this ceremony, the mayor proudly took up the microphone and proclaimed:

“Citizens of a newly-freed Czechoslovakia and Bratislava! Today we wish to give a long overdue thanks to one citizen, Mister Peter Petržalka. We owe him a debt of gratitude for being the savior of Bratislava one dark night back in 1947. He is credited with saving our city from total destruction—something our communists would have done anyway, had the regime not come to an end. He is a hero and was never given proper credit when the bridge was completed. So today, my fellow citizens, it is my pleasure to welcome here with us Mister Petržalka. Let us honor him by dedicating the newly completed southern portion of our city in his name, as a reward for his courage and bravery in defending the city that one terrible night. The bridge,” the mayor continued, indicating the Bridge of the Slovak National Uprising overhead, “connects the two halves of our city. And in his honor, we shall therefore call this side of Bratislava Petržalka.”

Original draft written: Wednesday, November 25, 2015