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Semyon Altov is the best to read. Monologues of entertainers

Eight and a half

Nobody can be trusted! Muscovites swore that they would take Mylovidov a return ticket to Leningrad, but at the last moment, the bastards, apologized, they say, it didn’t work out.
Igor Petrovich arrived at the station in great distress. Like any person in a foreign city without a ticket, he felt abandoned behind enemy lines with no chance of returning to his homeland. He knocked on the closed window of the cash register thirty-five times.
- Do you have an extra ticket? he asked the cashier hopelessly.
- There are "esve" left, will you take them?
- How much it costs?
- Twenty-six with bed. Take?
Mylovidov had heard of these depraved compartments for two, but he had never traveled in them in his life, because they were twice as expensive, and only the compartment was paid for on business trips. But there is no choice. There is nowhere to spend the night.
- To hell with it! Walk so walk! - Mylovidov sighed, with pain he gave a quarter and a ruble with a change.
There was plenty of time before departure. Igor Petrovich, puffing on a cigarette, walked along the platform.
- What if it's true? One coupe for two! Who knows who God will send for the night? Suddenly with a lady one on one? Do they take crazy money in vain? - The blood boiled and rushed to Mylovidov's head.
Igor Petrovich often went on business trips, wandered around the cities, it seemed logical to happen love adventure, but, alas, which year returned as a faithful spouse. Mylovidov knew from the hunting tales of his comrades how it was done. Two, three compliments cool joke, a glass of wine and bolder on the attack, which is eagerly awaited. The strictness of morals and a dull life are pushing people into casual relationships. Igor Petrovich was prone to treason, but a bad upbringing did not allow him to board a woman, put his hand on someone else's knee, or get close at once. Every time on the way, in a hotel, he waited like a boy for the beautiful stranger to speak first, to understand that Mylovidov was a gift of fate, and to pounce. And he won't resist for long. But no one rushed at Igor Petrovich, years passed, hope faded, but still glimmered.
Finally filed "Red Arrow". Mylovidov stepped into the mysterious compartment, where at arm's length were two sofas, a table, daisies in a glass, and that was it.
Looking around furtively, he grabbed a camomile, quickly cut it off with "loves, does not love."
And it turned out "loves"! "Who exactly, we'll find out now!" whispered Mylovidov excitedly, leaning back on the sofa.
In her brain, a pinkish fog thickened into a cloud with the outlines of a graceful blonde.
Igor Petrovich mentally conducted a dialogue with her:
- Let me help you throw a suitcase?
- Thank you. It’s immediately obvious that there is a real man in the compartment!
- Don't doubt it! For an acquaintance, do not refuse a glass of port for brotherhood? (He was bringing a bottle of port wine from Moscow, which he had bought for the occasion.)
After drinking, the blonde will whisper hotly:
“Could you help me unfasten it... They do such zippers, without a man you won’t undress until morning...”
And so it began, let's go! He imagined the most delightful disgrace vaguely, but only "and here it is, it began, it went" - it burned.
Passengers walked past the compartment along the corridor. Mylovidov tensed up with his whole body, his ears stood up like a dog's. When a woman passed, he died, when a man stomped, he died anyway. It's one thing, a night in half with a woman, another thing, one on one with a man, there's also a chance, God forgive me!
- Not otherwise, the Frenchman invented such a piquant form of transport, a compartment for two! Anything can happen here! Igor Petrovich excited himself. - Where are you going? Like it or not here. But, true, eight and a half hours were allotted for the entire novel according to the schedule. Half past eight in Leningrad. We've arrived!
What if I'm port wine, and she will demand cognac and lemon? There are such perverts!
Probably, an experienced heartthrob carries everything in a camping kit: drinks, lemons, protective agents! .. Will you bring home AIDS?! Pah-pah! Only this was not enough! Everything else seems to be there! This can not be - for the first time in my life and immediately in the top ten! In addition, a decent audience goes to "esve". I am also a decent person. I respect my wife, I honestly look into her eyes for eleven years.
How can? I have never been tormented by remorse, but I would like to! ..
Mylovidov's thoughts raced like crazy.
- And if he enters without a suitcase? How then will I say to her: "May I have your suitcase?" And without a suitcase where to start? Not from port! Although time is running out and port wine is the right move ... It depends on who you run into.
Mylovidov is tired. Thoughts were confused, the stupid phrase "And so it began, let's go!"
- flashed more often than others, exciting and exhausting.
Passengers, not knowing about anything, passed along the corridor. More often men, women also flashed by, but for some reason they walked past. What if you didn't buy a second ticket? To go for twenty-six rubles alone on two sofas?! We don’t have France, there I jumped into any hotel, paid and love! We are alone only in the elevator you can stay! And then a whole night for two! Paris on wheels... "Help me unfasten it!". Here it is, it started, let's go! ..
And suddenly you drink port wine - you fall asleep, you won’t wake up! Here is the number!
Take a chance. Without port wine? A decent lady will not come into contact with a sober head!
Damn those "esve"! Whether business in reserved seat! Everything is on top of each other and no thoughts, to get there as soon as possible! And here...
Mylovidov was so bogged down in variations that he did not immediately notice a blonde on the sofa opposite, exactly the same as he imagined! Cloud in your pants!
Igor Petrovich rubbed his eyes, gallantly jumped up and muttered: "Would you like some port?"
- What port? - blue eyes the girls got big.
- Portuguese!
- You're crazy? - asked the blonde.
- No. Business trip.
The girl began to rummage in her purse.
- Ask! - Mylovidov threw a pack of "Opal".
The blonde took out a beautiful pack, took out a cigarette, crushed it with her fingers. She pulled out a golden lighter. Igor Petrovich snatched the box like a cowboy Colt, lit a match at a gallop, but the blonde, smiling, lit up from the lighter.
Mylovidov, having taken courage, tried to mentally undress the girl, but, unbuttoning his blouse, he became embarrassed and blushed as if he was mentally undressing him. He lowered his eyes and stared at the lighter. The blonde shook her head, "Take it!" Igor Petrovich put the lighter in his pocket and did not even thank him.
- I can help put the suitcase! - he suddenly squeezed out of himself, remembering the memorized text.
- What suitcase?
- Any!
At this time, a tanned guy flew into the compartment. The girl threw herself on his neck. While they were kissing, Igor Petrovich smiled stupidly, it seemed to him that he was watching a foreign film with good ending. Breaking the kiss, the guy asked through the back of the blonde:
- What are you doing here?
- I'm going here.
- Well, show the ticket?
- I have a ticket. Here he is.
Taking the ticket, the boy shook his head.
- Glasses must be worn, grandpa. This is sixth place, and you are sixteenth.
Bon Voyage!
- Serge, give him cigarettes, otherwise he smokes Opal! - said the girl.
- For God's sake! - the guy handed Mylovidov a pack of imported cigarettes and politely escorted him out. The door slammed shut.
- Well, here it is, it started, let's go! Mylovidov sighed. - But I have not yet seen what fell on the sixteenth number! Must have a look! And singing "I'm not lucky in death, I'm lucky in love," he walked to his compartment. The door was closed. From within female voice said: "Wait a minute! I'll change!"
- Not a man, already lucky! So so. "Let me help you put your suitcase..."
- Sign in! - came from behind the door.
Mylovidov entered. To the left, on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket, lay a body.
The voice was certainly female, but under the blanket the figure, especially the face, is impossible to guess. How to meet in such a situation? Moreover, there was no suitcase, so you can’t go here with a trump card.
- Good evening! I will be your neighbor!
From under the covers they hissed in a choked voice:
- You know, I'm married! You will pester - I will scream! You will be jailed!
Igor Petrovich was taken aback. In the analysis of the games, such an Old Indian beginning was not found anywhere.
“Maybe I didn’t mean to bother!” To whom? You could at least show your face!
Maybe show me something else! Help!
- They don't touch you, why are you shouting?!
- To know how I will yell if you touch. I can do it even louder!
- Wow bitch planted! thought Mylovidov. - Thank God, the face is not visible. And then you won’t fall asleep with yourself!
Sitting down in his seat, he cautiously took out a bottle of port. "I'll drink and sleep! To hell with it! These women gave me! Anyway, there is no one better than my Svetka!
That's who to be in the same compartment for the night!"
He took a sip from the bottle. In the silence, a sip sounded loud, and immediately a hand with a tire iron emerged from under the blanket. Before him appeared a terrible woman in boots, in a padded jacket, fastened with all buttons, and in a helmet. The spitting image of a diver in a space suit.
Mylovidov jumped up, spilling port wine:
- What do you want from me in the end?
- Not to be touched!
- Yes, whoever touches you, look in the mirror at yourself!
"Won't they touch me?" Yes, I'll blink my eye, a flock of people like you will fly in!
"You're right, you're right," muttered Igor Petrovich, not taking his eyes off the mount.
- Such a woman! Well, I haven’t seen you, but when everything is complete ... Of course, a whole flock.
You will be torn apart!
- Watch me! - the aunt lay down, carefully wrapping herself in a blanket. Something in her tinkled metallically. "Grenades," Mylovidov realized.
Then the door opened slightly, a pleasant woman greeted and said:
- Excuse me, there's a crazy man in my compartment. Maybe swap if your roommate is female?
- Of course of course! Mylovidov shook his head. - What are you talking about? You are a woman, and under the covers lies the same thing. - Igor Petrovich jumped out of the compartment and crossed himself. - Ugh! Finally lucky! In a dream, you won’t turn around like that, a psychopath would kill! I paid twenty-six rubles, so even on the top of my head with a tire iron!
"Company train", do not say anything! All amenities!
- Good evening! he said amiably as he entered the compartment. - And I changed with your neighbor! These women are always afraid of something! Fools! Who needs them, right?
A healthy man with burning eyes and an aquiline nose said in a guttural voice:
- You changed with her on purpose, didn't you? God sent such a woman! And you have changed!
Out of spite, right? What am I going to do with you in the same compartment?
- Like what? Sleep! Igor Petrovich said uncertainly.
- With you?! the kid exploded.
- And with whom else, if here you and me. So with me! - Ugh! The man grabbed his things. - Look for others, old pederast!
Left alone, Mylovidov took a sip from the bottle:
- Wow trailer! Shelter on wheels! Some criminals! What did I say to him? Let's sleep together... Lord! Idiot!
"There are five minutes left before the departure of the fast train number two" Red Arrow "!
Please mourners to leave the cars!"
- Take a walk, it's time to rest! I paid twenty-six rubles, but for once I will sleep on two sofas alone! Let's smoke a cigarette and bye bye.
Mylovidov closed the door, took off his shoes. He took out a tasty cigarette, pressed the button of the lighter and a smooth column of fire stretched out in front of him. Like a soldier. Igor Petrovich smiled, lit a cigarette, commanded "freely", and the answer disappeared.
- Yes, this is not "Opal"! .. "Ke-soap" of some kind ... Such is life. Some with blonde, others with port. But who else has such a wife? Fitted like a goddess! Skin is silk! Good girl! Forgive me, sunshine! - Igor Petrovich's eyes tingled. - I'm a son of a bitch! Decided to relax! Take a walk in the "esve" for twenty-six rubles to the fullest! You need to shoot such men! - he pressed the button of the lighter, the light jumped up like a tiny genie, waiting for orders, and on command "freely" disappeared.
Igor Petrovich spread out the bed, tucked the blanket into the sheet, and then there was a knock at the door. He opened. A luxurious brunette stood on the threshold: "Good evening! They told me there is an empty seat. Could you help throw a suitcase upstairs?"
It would seem, like everything, the blood calmed down, but at the sight of the brunette it immediately boiled, gurgled. Moreover, finally there was a suitcase!
“With pleasure,” Mylovidov rumbled in hussar-like, having managed to put both feet into his shoes.
- Oh, Portuguese port! Adore! May I have a sip?
- At least two! - successfully quipped Igor Petrovich and poured a full glass. The lady drank and looked sideways at her cigarettes.
- "Kemyl"! I recommend, good. - Mylovidov clicked his lighter. The little genie lit a cigarette and hid with a wink.
The brunette looked respectfully at the cigarettes, the lighter, and at Igor Petrovich.
She leaned back on the sofa, and two wonderful knees darted into Mylovidov's eyes. He felt young and free: "Here it is! It's started, it's off!"
- What is your name, madam? Mylovidov asked.
- Iris. And you?
- Igor Petrovich.
- Very nice. Igorek, unzip the zipper, if it's not difficult!
One would have thought Irisha taught the same script!
The train moved softly. "It's started, let's go!" muttered Igor Petrovich, breaking the zipper on his dress. And then a soaring officer appeared in the window. He waved his hand to Irisha, shouting incomprehensibly. Irisha smiled at him, waving her hand, trying to cover Mylovidov with her body. But the colonel saw him and savagely slammed the fist of a general to the glass. For a while, he still ran alongside, sending air kisses and powerful fists. Finally, on the sixth kilometer, bogged down in a swamp, lagged behind.
- Something I'm freezing! Irisha whispered, remaining in combination, proud of her body.
Igor Petrovich looked at the half-naked chest and saw two fists.
"Husband is a colonel! He will kill! The military has its own aircraft! He will arrive by plane, meet at the station, shoot both of them! Why me?"
- Igor, I drank. Now you!
- Don't want! Drink yourself!
- Why are we suddenly on "you", do not break!
- What to do, what to do? - Igor Petrovich could not light a cigarette. The little genie was nervous and trembling with fear. - To accept death because of a woman? Yes, this is the first time I see her! Eleven years Svetka did not change anything, somehow I will survive!
Mylovidov nodded mechanically, not listening to Irisha's grumbling, thinking about how to save his life. And this idiot blushed, put her hands where she needed, tried to catch her lips, and he fought back:
- Shame on you! Irina, I'm sorry, I don't know my middle name! Husband is an officer Soviet army! Our protector! And you're on the train...
- A husband is a husband, and a train is a train! Irisha laughed. - Well, hug the same quickly! The train is coming!
A little more and the irreparable would have happened! Igor Petrovich, having freed himself, tore open the door: "Help!"
- What a fool! - immediately tired, Irina said, covered herself with a blanket and, turning to the wall, sobbed: "You are all fools!"
Igor Petrovich quickly got ready and ran out into the corridor. Where to go? In any compartment, new troubles could await. The wheels rumbled softly at the joints. Everyone was asleep. Igor Petrovich looked to the conductor.
- Sorry. I snore, I disturb the lady. Maybe there is a free place to spend the night?
- Go to the eighteenth, - the girl yawned. - I have one snorer sleeping there.
Let's have a couple.
Mylovidov found the compartment by sound. They snored really well. Without turning on the light, he lay down without undressing and left the door unlocked in case he had to eject. Igor Petrovich did not sleep. Through the snoring of a neighbor, he heard the sound of a horse's hooves. It was the colonel who was catching up with the train and brandishing the tire iron.
Finally Bartholomew's night is over. The train arrived in the Hero City of Leningrad.
Mylovidov, his face crumpled, as if after a spree, went out into the corridor and ran into Irina. She was as fresh as a May rose. Smiling, she said: "Igor, bring the suitcase, be a man." Behind her, in the compartment, purring something, the same peasant who had refused to sleep with Mylovidov was getting dressed. His eyes no longer burned with that hot fire, they smoldered quietly.
Igor Petrovich gasped either from jealousy or from resentment: "He didn't want to sleep with me, you bastard!" Mylovidov with Irina's suitcase jumped out onto the platform and ran nose to nose with his mother-in-law Galina Sergeevna. She met someone with flowers.
Seeing Igor Petrovich with someone else's suitcase next to Irina, the mother-in-law screamed.
Mylovidov rushed to her.
- Galina Sergeevna! Hello! I'll explain everything to you! I slept in a completely different compartment! With other people! Lady confirms!
Irina blew him a kiss. The mother-in-law slapped her in the face. Igor Petrovich almost burst into tears with vexation. "Not only did I not sleep with anyone all night for twenty-six rubles, but for that I also got slapped in the face!"
Igor Petrovich looked around in a haunted manner. Behind, standing with his back to him, Irina was hugged by a military man with general's shoulder straps. Mylovidov almost lost consciousness: "Husband!
Got it anyway! When did they assign him a general! Here it is! It's started, let's go!"
11.08.2003

Page 1 from 20

Altov Semyon

climb

(stories)

Violation

P o t about in about th (stops the car). Sergeant Petrov! I'll ask for documents!

Driver. Good afternoon

P o s t o v o y. Documents are yours! Rights!

Driver. And don't speak. Very hot.

P o s t o v o y. Rights!

Driver. A?

P o s t o v o y. Are you hard of hearing?

Driver. Speak louder.

P about with about in about th (shouts). You broke the rules! Your rights!

Driver. You're right. Very hot. I'm all wet. And you?

P o s t o v o y. Are you deaf? What sign is up? What sign is hanging?

Driver. Where?

P o s t o v o y. Wow, upstairs!

Driver. I see I'm not deaf.

P o s t o v o y. Red with yellow at the top, what is it for?

Driver. By the way, something hangs there, it is necessary to remove it - it distracts.

P o s t o v o y. In the middle on a yellow background, what blackens such red?

Driver. Louder, very hot!

P o s t o v o y. You deaf?

Driver. I have bad sight.

P o s t o v o y. Deaf and even blind, or what?!

Driver. I can not hear!

P o s t o v o y. How did you get behind the wheel?

Driver. Thanks, I don't smoke. Yes, don't worry. There are two people in the car. One sees, the other hears! And I'm driving.

P o s t o v o y. The black arrow to the right is crossed out. What does it mean? I can not hear.

Driver. Are you deaf? Crossed out? Wrong, put, then crossed out.

P o s t o v o y. Are you out of your mind? This means you can't turn right.

Driver. Who told you?

P o s t o v o y. What do you think I am, an idiot?

Driver. You take on a lot. Where do you think I went?

P o s t o v o y. We turned right.

Driver. What are you? I turned left. You're just on the wrong side.

P o s t o v o y. God! Where is your left?

Driver. Here is my left. Here left hand, here's the right one! And you?

P o s t o v o y. Ugh! Well, there goes a passer-by, let's ask him. Thank God, we are not all idiots. Comrade! Answer: which hand is left, which is right?

Passer-by (stretching at attention). Guilty!

P o s t o v o y. I don't ask for your last name. Which hand is left, which is right?

P r o h o g and y. The first time I've heard.

P o s t o v o y. Not otherwise in a crazy house day open doors. Which is your left hand right?

P r o h o g and y. Personally, I have this one on the left and this one on the right. Or with today renamed?

Driver. But you did not believe, comrade sergeant. You see, our hands are the same, but yours are mixed up.

CONSTANT (looks at his hands in bewilderment). I don't understand anything.

P r o h o g and y. I can go?

P o s t o v o y. Go, go!

P r o h o g and y. Where?

P o s t o v o y. Go straight ahead without turning anywhere, and get out of here!

P r o h o g and y. Thanks for the hint. And then I’m walking for two hours, I can’t understand where! (Exits.)

Driver. You need to do something with your hands. I won't tell anyone, but your job could get in trouble.

P o s t o v o y. And I'm talking about you to no one. Ride! Yes, when you turn left, well, you turn right, there is no passage there, a cliff. But you can go there.

Pets' corner

It started on the seventeenth. I don’t remember the year and month, but the fact that the twenty-third of September is for sure. I was then promoted from an enterprise to skydive for precision landing. I landed more accurately than anyone, since the rest of the participants could not be pushed out of the plane.

For this, at the meeting, they handed me a letter and a healthy cactus. I could not refuse, I dragged the freak home. I put it on the window and forgot about it. Moreover, I was instructed to navigate the terrain for the honor of the team.

And then one day, I don’t remember the year and month, but the date crashed - May 10, 1969 - I woke up in a cold sweat. You won't believe it - a huge red bud was blazing on the cactus! The flower had such an effect on me that for the first time in long years Impeccable service, I was late for three minutes, for which they cut off the thirteenth salary from me, so that others would be disrespectful.

A few days later, the flower wrinkled and fell off the cactus. The room became dark and sad.

That's when I started collecting cacti. In two years I had fifty pieces!

Having familiarized myself with special literature, for which I had to learn the Mexican language, I managed to create excellent conditions for cacti at home, not inferior to natural ones. But it turned out that a person in them survives with difficulty.

Therefore, for a long time I could not adapt to the conditions that I created for cacti. But every day a red bud burned on one of the cacti!

I started a correspondence with the cactusists different countries and nations, exchanged seeds with them. And then somehow, I don’t remember in what month, but I remember that on the twenty-fifth of 1971, some idiot from Brazil sent red grains. I foolishly planted. This disgrace grew very quickly. But when I realized what it was, it was too late! A hefty baobabishe took root in the floor, climbed out of the window with branches and stuck around the windows of the neighbors from above. They filed in a friendly court. I was sentenced to a fine of twenty-five rubles and ordered to prune the branches of the neighbors from above every month and cut off the roots of the neighbors from below.

What kind of seeds were not sent! Soon I had lemons, bananas and pineapples. Someone wrote to work that he did not understand how I could afford such a table with my salary. I was invited to the local committee, instructed to raise money for a gift to Vasiliev and visit him: “After all, the person is sick. He hasn't been to work for two months. Maybe he's thirsty."

I'm probably confusing the chronology, but in the fall, after dinner, a man came to me with a briefcase. We drank tea with banana jam, chatted, and before leaving he said: “Excuse me, I feel that you love the plant world in general and the animal world in particular. I'm leaving for a month to sail, let Leshka stay with you this time.

He took Leshka out of the briefcase. It was a python. I never saw that person again, and we still live side by side with Lyosha. He really likes diet eggs, dumplings and a neighbor on the site, Claudia Petrovna.

Soon journalists began to come to me. They took pictures, interviewed and pineapples.

I'm afraid to make a mistake in the chronology, but in the year when I gathered an unprecedented crop of coconuts for our latitudes, young naturalists from the zoo brought a little tiger cub Caesar. In the same fruitful year, the sailors of the Krym ship gave me two lion cubs as a gift.

Stepan and Masha.

I never thought you could eat like that! All wages and pineapples not eaten by journalists were exchanged for meat. And still had to mess around. But I didn't feed in vain. A year later I had two decent lions and one tiger in the house. Or two tigers and one lion? Although what does it matter?

When Caesar got together with Masha, I thought I would go crazy! Stepan gave me wild scenes. And with grief he killed the ostrich Hippolyta. But my bed was freed up, because I threw out the nest that Hippolyte made in it as unnecessary.

One morning, while taking a bath, I felt that I was not taking it alone. And exactly.

Some hooligans planted a crocodile!

Six months later, the crocodile brought offspring, although I still don’t understand where he brought it from, since he was alone. The newspapers wrote that this was "a rare case, because captive crocodiles breed with difficulty." Why shouldn't he breed? I came home from work and in this captivity I felt at home!

Only once did I lose heart and, as advised, left the door open for the night. They said someone might leave. The results exceeded all expectations. Not only did no one leave, in the morning I found three more cats, one mongrel and a neighbor whose wife had left. The next morning, a woman from forty-two asked to come to us, to whom her husband returned, and a pensioner who suffered greatly from loneliness. And how do you order to put a couple with a one-year-old child? They said: “We can no longer live with our mother-in-law. Whatever you want, then do it! Allocated them a place near the baobab.

And the people moved. A month later, our tribe numbered fifteen people, including animals. We live together. In the evenings we gather around the fire, some sing, others howl softly, but everyone keeps the melody!

Not so long ago there was a tour. People from another city came to look at our living corner. Everyone left except the tour guide. She followed the next group.

Yes, once anonymous was. “Why do so many unregistered living creatures live illegally on an area of thirty-three square meters, while my husband and I huddle together on an area of thirty-two square meters? Why are we worse than their cattle?” We know who wrote. This is from the thirty-fourth Tonka Heavy Hand. They dog with her husband, fight until bruises, and then they say that, they say, the animals are unbelted, they stick to unfamiliar women!

Oh, to unleash Caesar and Stepan on them! Come on. Well, it turns out that if you live with wolves, then everyone howls like wolves, or what?

Row in table
Two springs across the river were like an unpaid debt for Marchenko and me. Twice we tried to drive to them on deer - it did not work out: in some places the ice was already breaking - spring was approaching.
We decided to walk together. We got up early - the contours of ice and bushes were barely distinguishable. It was freezing, and that made me happy. We freely crossed over the ice to the right bank, quite quickly overcame the steep rocky slope of the valley and came out into the expanse of a vast plateau.
We sat down over the map, and then it turned out that we had not taken into account, when we were considering the route, what an obstacle the streams had become. Now we will have to go on horseback - watersheds - longer, but rather, although it will be more difficult to find sources from above.
It turned out, however, that it would not be possible to get to the springs together - we would not have time to return before dark.
- Let's split up, - I suggested, - let's meet here, at this granite colossus, it is noticeable from afar.
- Then so, - Marchenko agreed, - if you come first - put a noticeable pebble here and go to the camp - you can’t delay returning: every hour something can turn. If I come first, I'll wait for you.
Adjusting a large rucksack full of empty water sample bottles on his back, Marchenko waved to me and, without looking back, walked along the rocky surface, gray with lichens and mosses. I looked after him. When this person wants, he is like a flint, words and deeds are merged, you can trust in everything.
The morning was illumined with light more and more brightly, and the clouds, spreading their feathers, floated high and calmly. The world was indestructibly good, we were successfully finishing the field season, we did even more than planned, and ahead of us for the first time in several years, a summer vacation was expected.
I walked upstairs. The familiar feeling of novelty of each step on the way and joy of lonely routes came to me, as always. An amazing silence walked with me, and inaudibly beside me, and overtaking me, rushed new, and new winds. In a few of my steps, they flew far ahead, they were replaced by others, it seemed that they took some part of me with them and it was easier to go from this.
I found a spring. Soon, it came out almost at the pass. Here, above, winter still strictly kept his violent mobility in check;
a jet from a shallow funnel, where well-washed pebbles bloomed, and merged into a narrow stream. Snow was dozing all around, melting was not yet felt.
I sat by the spring, enjoying its soothing intonations, then poured two bottles of water that were in my backpack, measured the temperature and flow of the stream, wrote it all down and went back.
It suddenly got dark and began to rain, the first of the year. Marchenko did not have a block of granite. She put a piece of grayish quartz on the appointed place and, without stopping, went to the camp. The bright expanse of the window was deceiving - it turned out that by the clock it would soon be twilight. The valley of the river lay below, aloof and gloomy, and almost to the top was in a wavering, kind of watery fog. The descent was steep, uncomfortable and very difficult. I glided over the ice, invisible under the mosses, that had melted from the rain, and I came to the river broken and exhausted.
There was no ice on the river. He was swept away by the rising water from the rain. Dark and harsh water slowly walked past and in some places already flooded the meanders of the low floodplain here. The fog almost lay on the river, and only at the very shore it became noticeable that it hung heavily over the water, as if ready to fall into it at any moment.
There was no need to think, and I went upstream, hoping to meet an ice cover at the end of the polynya that was always there. I tried to walk fast to get ahead of the night. But the branches and the abundance of streams that appeared slowed my progress, and the night almost overtook me. I assessed the situation immediately and did not hesitate - I had to move on. The river was not wide here, the water rose above the knees and flooded the boots. Stumbling, I got over to our left bank and was glad that I was almost at home and would soon be by the fire.
But no matter where I tried to move in the dark, I fell into some hollows with water, pits with roots, into a glassy, rustling icy mess, as if I had entered a canal. Vankino's eyesight! In order not to freeze at all, I trampled and jumped all the time on the go. At times she lost her bearings and then listened to the river and walked along its noise.
Cold, darkness, a terrible chill and the feeling that I was spinning in one place, suggested bad thoughts. “Church me, churn,” the coachmen used to say, spinning and tangling with the sleigh amidst the fiercest Russian snowstorms.
Usually those who are forced to risk their lives to some extent are superstitious. Drivers hang some kind of twitching monkeys in front of them, which, it seems to me, makes it impossible to see the road properly and can rather “curl up”. Geologists are not superstitious.

Janitor on the balcony

Thinker

feathered

Impossible Man

Feeling

in a light bulb

Kira carving

shot sparrow

sexsanfu

Surrounded

Sense of taste

Instruction for unmarried

Set

Breadwinner

tsunamochka

Eight and a half

Firebird

horizons

Fate somersault

Opener

How to get out of a hangover alive

Whatever!

Wolves and sheep

Summer vacation time

Blood transfusion

Plastic surgery

cucumbers

The bird lived in a cage. It used to happen that in the morning, as the sun peeps, it chirps so merrily - waking up and pulling to strangle her! Damn kenyreechka! No, she sings amazingly, but one must have a conscience early in the morning! We do not live in the Philharmonic after all!

From a dream, the hosts began to cover with obscene expressions that fell on a bird's whistle, and, as the musicians say, a rare, fucking root, recitative developed.

And then the owners, the owners of Kenyrov, as advised, covered the cage with a dark cloth. And a miracle happened. The kenyreechka shut up. Light does not penetrate the cage, how does she know that it is dawn there? She keeps quiet in a rag. That is, the bird turned out with all the amenities. They take off the rag, - sings, put it on, - is silent.

Agree, it is a pleasure to keep such a kenyreika at home.

Somehow they forgot to take off the rag, - the bird did not make a sound for a day. The second day - no peep! The owners couldn't be happier. And there is a bird, and silence in the house.

And the kenyrechka was confused in the dark: you won’t understand where the day is, where the night is, you’ll still chirp at the wrong time. In order not to get into a stupid position, the bird stopped singing altogether.

One day, in the dark, a kenyreechka is peeling seeds for itself, and suddenly, for no reason at all, a rag fell off. The sun shines into your eyes! Kenyreechka suffocated, closed her eyes, then shed tears, cleared her throat and began to whistle a forgotten song.

Stretched out with a string, her eyes bulged, her body shudders with everything, she catches a buzz. Wow she did! She sang about freedom, about the sky, in a word, about everything that she is drawn to singing about behind bars. And suddenly he sees - mo! The cage door is open!

Freedom! Kenyreechka sang about her, and she - here she is! Fluttered out of the cage and let's pretzels around the room! She sat down, happy, on the windowsill to take a breath - ... dear mother! The porch is open! There is freedom, there is no freer! A piece of blue sky is inserted into the window, and a dove sits in it with a cornice above. Free!

Dove! Thick! He should be cooing about freedom, but he is sleeping, the old fool! I wonder why only those who do not have it sing about freedom?

Kenyreyka jumped up, and what does she see with horror ?! Behind the glass on the ledge sits a red cat and, like a true lover of bird singing, licks its lips in anticipation.

Kenyreykino's heart sniffed at his heels and there "doo-doo-doo" ... A little more and would freely fall into the cat's mouth. What the hell is this freedom to be eaten?

Pah-pah-pah!

Kenyreika shot back into her cage, closed the door with her paw, and pushed the latch with her beak. Ugh! Calm down in the cage! The lattice is strong! The bird can't fly out, but the cat can't get in either! Kenyreika chirped in joy. Freedom of speech in the absence of freedom of movement is not such a bad thing, if anyone understands! And the kenyrechka sang everything she thought in the cat's face! And although the cat didn’t see her through the glass, he heard, you bastard, everything through the window. Because tears welled up in my eyes. So it's arrived! When there is no opportunity to eat, it remains to admire art.

Kenyreechka, I tell you, she sang like never before! Because the closeness of the cat gave birth to inspiration, the lattice guaranteed the freedom of creativity. And these are two necessary conditions for the disclosure of a creative personality.

________________________________________________________________________

Janitor on the balcony

Shtukin was awakened by a strange sound. The balcony was clearly scraped, although it was sealed in the best possible way for the winter. So, the only way to get to the balcony was from the street. How is it from the street when the fifth floor? Maybe the bird was shuffling with its foot in search of food?

A sparrow would never begin to rattle its paws like that ... "A heron, or what?" Shtukin thought hard from sleep, "now I'll hit her right in the ..." He had never seen a heron, so he vaguely imagined what she could do embed. Shtukin went up to the balcony and for a long time rubbed his eyes, which did not want to wake up: behind the glass, instead of a heron, a tiny janitor in a yellow sheepskin coat was scratching. She beat the ice with a crowbar, sprinkled sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, with a crunch tore open the door sealed for the winter and yelled:

Come on! By what right are you scratching, citizen?!

It's my duty! the janitor straightened up sweetly. - Injuries on balconies are reduced, the birth rate is rising. And then there is no one to live.

What? You would have sprinkled sand on the roof! People break their legs not where you pour! Herods! Shtukin froze, numb, wrapping himself in his housepants.

And who's stopping you from breaking your legs, where sprinkled? The janitor peered into the room. -- Oh you! Where do you get this kind of dirt? Not otherwise, the tenant here is single! So be it, I'll sprinkle it with sand. She generously poured out of the pail onto the floor. - Good parquet, Vietnamese! Its sand is better, but it can corrode with salt. Here in the fortieth floor, I salted it, as they asked, otherwise their father-in-law, drunk, slips. So believe it, no, - the whole parquet has become white! Salt whatever you want! But the father-in-law quit drinking. I can’t, I said, beat my forehead on the salty parquet, I feel sick! And does not drink the third day! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand along the way. “Does he shiver from the cold or from passion?” I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you immediately in shorts. I'll put on some tea first. Wow! You have a rutabagas! I'll make scrambled eggs with turnips. This is useful. But for men in general! Eat and start attacking me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!

Oddly enough, the scrambled eggs and swede turned out to be decent, and besides, Shtukin didn't have dinner again.

Well, I fed. It's my duty. Perhaps I’ll go before they attack me from the swede! Maria Ivanovna stepped towards the balcony.

Altov Semyon

From the book "Chance"

(stories)

From a dream, the hosts began to cover with obscene expressions that fell on a bird's whistle, and, as the musicians say, a rare, fucking root, recitative developed.

Agree, it is a pleasure to keep such a kenyreika at home.

Somehow they forgot to take off the rag, - the bird didn’t make a sound for a day. The second day - no peep! The owners couldn't be happier. And there is a bird, and silence in the house.

Dove! Thick! He should be cooing about freedom, but he is sleeping, the old fool! I wonder why only those who do not have it sing about freedom?

Kenyreyka jumped up, and what does she see with horror ?! Behind the glass on the ledge sits a red cat and, like a true lover of bird singing, licks its lips in anticipation.

Kenyreykino's heart sniffed at his heels and there "doo-doo-doo" ... A little more and would have freely hit the cat's mouth. What the hell is this freedom to be eaten?

Pah-pah-pah!

Janitor on the balcony

A sparrow would never rattle its paws like that ... “A heron, or what? - Shtukin thought hard from sleep, - now I’ll hit her right in ... ”He had never seen a heron, so he vaguely imagined what she could hit. Shtukin went up to the balcony and for a long time rubbed his eyes, which did not want to wake up: behind the glass, instead of a heron, a tiny janitor in a yellow sheepskin coat was scratching. She beat the ice with a crowbar, sprinkled sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, with a crunch tore open the door sealed for the winter and yelled:

Come on! By what right are you scratching, citizen?!

It's my duty! - sweetly straightened the janitor. - Injuries on balconies are reduced, the birth rate is rising. And then there is no one to live.

What? You would have sprinkled sand on the roof! People break their legs not where you pour! Herods! - the stiffened Shtukin was furious, wrapping himself in house pants.

And who's stopping you from breaking your legs, where sprinkled? The janitor looked into the room. - Oh you! Where do you get this kind of dirt? Not otherwise, the tenant here is single! So be it, I'll sprinkle it with sand. - She generously poured out of the bucket on the floor. - Good parquet, Vietnamese! Its sand is better, but it can corrode with salt. Here in the fortieth floor, I salted it, as they asked, otherwise their father-in-law, drunk, slips. So believe it, no - all the parquet has become white! Salt whatever you want! But the father-in-law quit drinking. I can’t, I said, beat my forehead on the salty parquet, I feel sick! And does not drink the third day! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand along the way. - From a cold shudders or from passion? I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you immediately in shorts. I'll put on some tea first. Wow! You have a rutabagas! I'll make scrambled eggs with turnips. This is useful. But for men in general! Eat and start attacking me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!

Oddly enough, the scrambled eggs and swede turned out to be decent, and besides, Shtukin didn't have dinner again.

Well, I fed. It's my duty. Perhaps I’ll go before they attack me from the swede! - Maria Ivanovna stepped towards the balcony.

No no! Please come here! - Shtukin gallantly opened the door. And then, as if on purpose, the neighbor's dog jumped out onto the site with the owner and froze in the rack, sniffing in four nostrils, not taking his eyes off the wild couple: Shtukin in shorts and a ruddy short man in a sheepskin coat. Blushing to the knees, Shtukin slammed the door:

Caught out of the blue, you bastards!

I think you have dishonored me,” whispered the janitor.

What is it? Here you have disgraced me, the fact! How can I prove that there was nothing between us, how? One night in shorts next to a woman - they will say, a libertine!

The janitor, throwing sand under her, crashed into full height and sobbed.

Such a tiny janitor, but roared like the head of the RZhU.

Fearing that the dogs with the neighbors would burst in, Shtukin, bending down to the lying one, stroked the janitor's head with one hand, and squeezed her throat with the other:

Quiet! My dear! Shut up! People are sleeping! So what's now?! Don't get married...

Maria Ivanovna, breaking off her roar, jumped up and, sniffling, whispered:

I agree to marriage. Oh, half past four! Sleep soon! Now it's our duty! Yes, you are still after the swede! I'm afraid of you! - the janitor laughed and, throwing off her sheepskin coat, jumped into bed, where she disappeared.

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