Altov Semyon
From the book "Chance"
(stories)
There lived a bird in a cage. It used to be that in the morning, as soon as the sun came out, it would chirp so joyfully that when you were asleep, you just wanted to strangle it! Damn bitch! No, she sings amazingly, but you have to have a conscience early in the morning! We don’t live in the Philharmonic after all!
The owners began to cover with obscene expressions from sleep, which fell on bird whistle, and what the musicians say was a rare, eden root, recitative.
And then the owners, the dog owners, as advised, covered the cage with a dark cloth. And a miracle happened. Kenyreechka shut up. Light doesn’t penetrate the cage, how does she know what dawned there? She keeps quiet in a rag. That is, the bird turned out with all the amenities. They’ll take off the rag, he sings, they’ll put it on, he’ll be silent.
Agree, it’s a pleasure to keep such a kennel at home.
Somehow they forgot to take off the cloth - the bird didn’t make a sound for a day. The second day - not a peep! The owners couldn't be happier. And there is a bird, and there is silence in the house.
And the little girl was confused in the darkness: you won’t understand where is day and where is night, even if you tweet at the wrong time. To avoid making a fool of himself, the bird stopped singing altogether.
One day, a little girl was peeling her own seeds in the dark, and suddenly, out of the blue, the rag fell off. The sun will splash into your eyes! Kenyreechka gasped, closed her eyes, then shed a tear, cleared her throat and started whistling the forgotten song.
She stretched out like a string, her eyes bulged, her whole body shuddered, she got a buzz. Wow she gave it away! She sang about freedom, about heaven, in a word, about everything that one is drawn to sing about behind bars. And suddenly he sees - mo! The cage door is open!
Freedom! Kenyreechka sang about her, and she - here she is! She fluttered out of the cage and let's do pretzels around the room! She sat down, happy, on the windowsill to catch her breath - ... dear mother! The window is open! There is freedom there, it couldn’t be freer! A piece of blue sky is inserted into the window, and a dove sits in it, higher up the cornice. Free!
Gray! Thick! He should be cooing about freedom, but he’s asleep, the old fool! I wonder why only those who don’t have it sing about freedom?
Kenyreyka jumped, and what did she see with horror?! Behind the glass on the ledge sits a red cat and, like a true lover of birdsong, licks his lips in anticipation.
Kenyreika’s heart snatched at her heels and “doo-doo-doo”... A little more and she would have freely fallen into the cat’s mouth. What the hell is this freedom for - to be eaten?
Pah-pah-pah!
The cat shot back into its cage, closed the door with its paw, and pushed the latch with its beak. Ugh! It's calmer in the cage! The grid is strong! The bird can't fly out, but the cat can't get in either! The kennel chirped in joy. Freedom of speech in the absence of freedom of movement is not such a bad thing, if anyone understands! And the little girl sang in the cat’s face everything she was thinking! And although the cat didn’t see her through the glass, the bastard heard everything through the window. Because tears welled up in my eyes. So it’s arrived! When there is no opportunity to eat, all that remains is to admire the art.
Kenyreechka, I tell you, sang like never before! Because the closeness of the cat gave rise to inspiration, the lattice guaranteed freedom of creativity. And these are two necessary conditions for the development of a creative personality.
Janitor on the balcony
Shtukin was awakened by a strange sound. The balcony was clearly scratched, although it was sealed in winter at its best. This means that they could only get to the balcony from the street. How is it from the street when it’s the fifth floor? Maybe the bird was shuffling its foot in search of food?
A sparrow would never rattle its paws like that... “A heron, or what? - Shtukin thought slowly from his sleep, “now I’ll hit it right in the…” He had never seen a heron, so he had a vague idea of what he could hit it with. 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 broke the ice with a crowbar and sprinkled sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, with a crunch tore off the door that had been sealed for the winter and shouted:
Come on, come on! By what right are you scratching, citizen?!
This is my duty! - The janitor straightened up sweetly. - Injuries on balconies are decreasing, the birth rate is rising. Otherwise there is no one to live.
What? You should also sprinkle sand on the roof! People don't break their legs where you fall! Herods! - the numb Shtukin was furious, wrapping himself in his home underpants.
Who’s stopping you from breaking your legs where it’s sprinkled? - The janitor looked into the room. - Oh, you! Where do you get such dirt? Surely the tenant here is single! So be it, I’ll sprinkle some sand on it. - She generously poured from the bucket onto the floor. - Good parquet, Vietnamese! Sand is better, but salt can corrode it. In the forties, I salted the floor as requested, otherwise their drunken father-in-law would slip. Believe it or not, the entire parquet floor has become white! Salt whatever you want! But my father-in-law stopped drinking. I can’t, I said, hitting my forehead on the salty parquet, it makes me nauseous! And he hasn’t drunk for three days! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand along the way. - Are you shuddering from the cold or from passion? I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you're in your shorts right away. I'll put some tea on first. Wow! You have rutabaga! I'll make scrambled eggs with rutabaga. This is useful. And for men in general! You eat it and you’ll start attacking me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!
Oddly enough, the scrambled eggs with rutabaga turned out to be decent, and Shtukin again didn’t have dinner.
Well, I fed you. This is my duty. I guess I'll go before they attack me with rutabaga! - 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 and its owner jumped out onto the platform and froze in a stance, sniffing through four nostrils, not taking their eyes off the wild couple: Shtukin in shorts and a short, ruddy woman in a sheepskin coat. Blushing up to his knees, Shtukin slammed the door:
They caught me out of the blue, you bastards!
“I think you’ve disgraced me,” the janitor whispered.
What is this? You have disgraced me, fact! How can I prove that nothing happened between us? Once at night in shorts next to a woman, they will say you are a libertine!
The janitor, having poured sand under herself, fell into full height and burst into tears.
Such a tiny janitor, but she roared like the head of the RJU.
Fearing that the dogs and neighbors would burst in, Shtukin, bending down to where she was lying, stroked the janitor’s head with one hand, and squeezed her throat with the other:
Quiet! My dear! Shut up! People are sleeping! What to do now?! Don't get married...
Maria Ivanovna, stopping the roar, jumped up and, sniffling, whispered:
I agree to marriage. Oh, half past four! Get to bed quickly! Now it is our duty! Yes, you are still after rutabaga! I'm afraid of you! - the janitor laughed and, throwing off her sheepskin coat, jumped into bed, where she disappeared.
Janitor on the balcony
Thinker
Feathered
Impossible man
Feeling
In a light bulb
Kir carving
shot sparrow
Sexsanfu
Surrounded by
Sense of taste
Instruction for singles
Set
Breadwinner
Tsunamochka
Eight and a half
Firebird
Horizons
Somersault of fate
Opener
How to get out of a hangover alive
At least that's it!
Wolves and sheep
Summer holiday time
Blood transfusion
Plastic surgery
Cucumbers
There lived a bird in a cage. It used to be that in the morning, as soon as the sun came out, it would chirp so joyfully - when you were asleep, you just wanted to strangle it! Damn bitch! No, she sings amazingly, but you have to have a conscience early in the morning! We don’t live in the Philharmonic after all!
From sleep, the owners began to cover with obscene expressions, which fell on the bird whistle, and what the musicians say was a rare, eden root, recitative.
And then the owners, the dog owners, as advised, covered the cage with a dark cloth. And a miracle happened. Kenyreechka shut up. Light doesn’t penetrate the cage, how does she know what dawned there? She keeps quiet in a rag. That is, the bird turned out with all the amenities. They’ll take off the rag, he sings, they’ll put it on, he’ll be silent.
Agree, it’s a pleasure to keep such a kennel at home.
Somehow they forgot to take off the rag - the bird didn’t make a sound for a day. The second day - not a peep! The owners couldn't be happier. And there is a bird, and there is silence in the house.
And the little girl was confused in the darkness: you won’t understand where is day and where is night, even if you tweet at the wrong time. To avoid making a fool of himself, the bird stopped singing altogether.
One day, a little girl was peeling her own seeds in the dark, and suddenly, out of the blue, the rag fell off. The sun will splash into your eyes! Kenyreechka gasped, closed her eyes, then shed a tear, cleared her throat and started whistling the forgotten song.
She stretched out like a string, her eyes bulged, her whole body shuddered, she got a buzz. Wow she gave it away! She sang about freedom, about heaven, in a word, about everything that one is drawn to sing about behind bars. And suddenly he sees - mo! The cage door is open!
Freedom! Kenyreechka sang about her, and she - here she is! She fluttered out of the cage and let's do pretzels around the room! She sat down, happy, on the windowsill to catch her breath - ... dear mother! The window is open! There is freedom there, it couldn’t be freer! A piece of blue sky is inserted into the window, and a dove sits in it, higher up the cornice. Free!
Gray! Thick! He should be cooing about freedom, but he’s asleep, the old fool! I wonder why only those who don’t have it sing about freedom?
Kenyreyka jumped, and what did she see with horror?! Behind the glass on the ledge sits a red cat and, like a true lover of birdsong, licks his lips in anticipation.
Kenyreika's heart snatched at her heels and there "doo-doo-doo" ... A little more and she would have freely fallen into the cat's mouth. What the hell is this freedom for - to be eaten?
Pah-pah-pah!
The cat shot back into its cage, closed the door with its paw, and pushed the latch with its beak. Ugh! It's calmer in the cage! The grid is strong! The bird can't fly out, but the cat can't get in either! The kennel chirped in joy. Freedom of speech in the absence of freedom of movement is not such a bad thing, if anyone understands! And the little girl sang in the cat’s face everything she was thinking! And although the cat didn’t see her through the glass, the bastard heard everything through the window. Because tears welled up in my eyes. So it’s arrived! When there is no opportunity to eat, all that remains is to admire the art.
Kenyreechka, I tell you, sang like never before! Because the closeness of the cat gave rise to inspiration, the lattice guaranteed freedom of creativity. And these are two necessary conditions for the development of a creative personality.
________________________________________________________________________
Janitor on the balcony
Shtukin was awakened by a strange sound. The balcony was clearly scratched, although it was sealed up for the winter in the best possible way. This means that they could only get to the balcony from the street. How is it from the street when it’s the fifth floor? Maybe the bird was shuffling its foot in search of food?
A sparrow would never rattle its paws like that... “A heron, or what?” Shtukin thought slowly from sleep, “now I’ll hit it right in the…” He had never seen a heron, so he had a vague idea of what it 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 broke the ice with a crowbar and sprinkled sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, with a crunch tore off the door that had been sealed for the winter and shouted:
Come on, come on! By what right are you scratching, citizen?!
This is my duty! - The janitor straightened up sweetly. -- Injuries on balconies are decreasing, the birth rate is rising. Otherwise there is no one to live.
What? You should also sprinkle sand on the roof! People don't break their legs where you fall! Herods! - the numb Shtukin raged, wrapping himself in his home underpants.
Who’s stopping you from breaking your legs where it’s sprinkled? - The janitor looked into the room. - Oh, you! Where do you get such dirt? Surely the tenant here is single! So be it, I’ll sprinkle some sand on it. - She generously poured from the bucket onto the floor. - Nice parquet, Vietnamese! Sand is better, but salt can corrode it. In the forties, I salted the floor as requested, otherwise their drunken father-in-law would slip. Believe it or not, the entire parquet floor has become white! Salt whatever you want! But my father-in-law stopped drinking. I can’t, I said, hitting my forehead on the salty parquet, it makes me nauseous! And he hasn’t drunk for three days! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand along the way. - Are you shuddering from the cold or from passion? I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you're in your shorts right away. I'll put some tea on first. Wow! You have rutabaga! I'll make scrambled eggs with rutabaga. This is useful. And for men in general! You eat it and you’ll start attacking me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!
Oddly enough, the scrambled eggs with rutabaga turned out to be decent, and Shtukin again didn’t have dinner.
Well, I fed you. This is my duty. I guess I'll go before they attack me with rutabaga! - Maria Ivanovna stepped towards the balcony.
When you think of Semyon Altov, what comes to your mind first? Of course, his way of speaking. It is partly what makes this satirical writer so hilarious and interesting. Of course the stories and monologues of Semyon Altov are interesting in themselves, they are funny, unusual and charged with a lot of positive energy.
We decided to post the stories and monologues of Semyon Altov on our website precisely because his work deserves the attention of the audience. If you like to read humorous stories, then you will definitely like the works of Semyon Altov, and if you are already a fan of his work, then you will enjoy reading the stories in this section.
Witness.
What did she say? Can't make out a damn thing. Who is flying, where is he flying, what is he flying with... What did she say?!
I myself have something with my diction. Only when I speak. When I am silent, my speech is impeccable. But in public I get nervous, a mess of words. Happiness is when you are understood, right? I have misfortune. But there are advantages.
Thirty years ago, you were not yet in the world, I was sitting in the company. It seems like everyone has drunk and eaten, it’s time to leave. The music is screaming. To be heard, he muttered loudly:
“Goodbye, I’m leaving!”
And then the lady on the left stands up: “With pleasure!”
She understood - I invite you to dance.
And how I dance, you have to see it! I stomped on her feet, and to distract her, I said, “Hey, fisherman, we caught a lot of bream here.”
We danced. And when there was no music, I pulled myself together and said clearly:
- I’m not inviting anyone to dance, it’s time to go home!
This lady says: “Can I call you about the bream?
- I don't have a phone. (And who knows when I received it!)
- Why not?
- Like almost everyone doesn’t.
- But it’s more convenient with a phone!
- Who can argue?
She says: “Write down my phone number. Call.
I thought she was crazy at the dance, she had designs on me.
I'm calling. It turned out that she was the wife of the head of the telephone center! And without a queue, without bribes, they will send me a mother-of-pearl apparatus! He danced famously!
What does it mean during whom you need to say unintelligibly!
It doesn't happen once at a time. At the store I ask for one hundred grams of cheese, and they weigh out two hundred grams of lard.
I complain to the doctor about a tooth on the right; they remove it on the left.
And they beat me, it happened. Something to remember... At my birthday party I said to my neighbor, “Please serve me the duck.” So her brothers almost killed her! What did they hear?
There are a lot of inconveniences! You ask for a ticket to Moscow, but they give you one to Samara. We have to fly. They mistake him for someone, take him, give him water, put him to bed with an elderly woman, and she has indigestion. You need to hear this! But I am silent. If you open your mouth, they will kill someone instead.
This is the diction...
The journalist tortured: “Don’t be afraid, a survey of the population, how do you like the president in general and in particular?”
I say, “I won’t speak for myself, but public opinion is such that I don’t want to live.”
Then I read in the newspaper: “people in general are optimistic”
Problems with diction, problems. And who has normal diction, no problems?
At least I have some advantages.
I work part-time... You'll never guess who... A witness.
In court, I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. That’s what I’m saying, but it’s such a mess! Both the defense and the prosecution interpret it in their own way, as it suits them. Thanks to me, so many people were released... True, there were enough innocent people in the village.
At the same time, it’s convenient that I’m telling the truth, and nothing but the truth...
What did she say there, do you understand?...
Altov Semyon
Gain altitude
(stories)
Violation
Policeman (stops the car). Sergeant Petrov! I'll ask for documents!
Driver. Good afternoon
P o st o v o y. The documents are yours! Right!
Driver. And don't talk. It's very hot.
P o st o v o y. Right!
Driver. A?
P o st o v o y. Are you hard of hearing?
Driver. Speak up.
P o st o y (yelling). You broke the rules! Your rights!
Driver. You're right. It's very hot. I'm all wet. What about you?
P o st o v o y. What, are you deaf? What sign is there? What sign is hanging?!
Driver. Where?
P o st o v o y. There, upstairs!
Driver. I see I'm not deaf.
P o st o v o y. What is the red one with the yellow one on top for?
Driver. By the way, there is something hanging there that needs to be removed - it’s distracting.
P o st o v o y. In the middle on a yellow background, what is so red that turns black?
Driver. Louder, it's very hot!
P o st o v o y. Are you deaf?
Driver. I can't see well.
P o st o v o y. Deaf and also blind, or what?!
Driver. I can't hear!
P o st o v o y. How did you get behind the wheel?
Driver. Thank you, I don't smoke. Don't worry. There are two people in the car. One sees, the other hears! And I'm driving.
P o st o v o y. The black arrow to the right is crossed out. What does this mean? I don't hear.
Driver. What, are you deaf? Crossed out? Wrong, put it, then crossed it out.
P o st o v o y. Are you out of your mind? This means you cannot turn right.
Driver. Who told you?
P o st o v o y. Do you think I'm an idiot?
Driver. You take on a lot. Which way do you think I turned?
P o st o v o y. We turned right.
Driver. What are you talking about? I was turning left. You're just standing on the wrong side.
P o st o v o y. God! Where is your left?
Driver. Here's my left. Here is the left hand, here is the right! What about you?
P o st o v o y. Ugh! Okay, there’s a passerby coming, let’s ask him. Thank God we are not all idiots. Comrade! Answer: which hand is the left, which is the right?
Passerby (standing to attention). Guilty!
P o st o v o y. I'm not asking your last name. Which hand is left, which is right?
P rokh o z h i y. First time I hear it.
P o st o v o y. It's an open day in a madhouse. Which left hand is your right?
P rokh o z h i y. Personally, I have this one on the left and this one on the right. Or has it been renamed as of today?
Driver. But you didn’t believe it, Comrade Sergeant. You see, our hands match, but yours are mixed up.
P o st o y (looks at his hands in bewilderment). I don't understand anything.
P rokh o z h i y. Can I go?
P o st o v o y. Go, go!
P rokh o z h i y. Where?
P o st o v o y. Go straight, without turning anywhere, and get away from here!
P rokh o z h i y. Thanks for the advice. And then I walk for two hours, I can’t figure out where! (Leaves.)
Driver. You need to do something with your hands. I won't tell anyone, but there may be trouble with your work.
P o st o v o y. And I'm talking about you to no one. Go! Yes, when you turn left, well, you turn right, driving there is prohibited, there’s a cliff. But you can go there.
Living Corner
It started on the seventeenth. I don’t remember the year and month, but it’s September twenty-third, that’s for sure. I was then promoted from the enterprise to jump with a parachute for precision landing. I landed more accurately than anyone else, since the rest of the participants could not be pushed out of the plane.
For this, at the meeting they presented me with a certificate and a healthy cactus. I couldn’t refuse, I dragged the freak home. I put it on the window and forgot about it. Moreover, I was tasked with navigating the terrain for the honor of the team.
And then one day, I don’t remember the year and month, but the date stuck - the tenth of May 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 for many years impeccable service, I was three minutes late, for which the thirteenth salary was cut from me, so that others would be disgraced.
After a few days, the flower shriveled and fell off the cactus. The room became dark and sad.
That's when I started collecting cacti. Two years later I had fifty grand!
Having familiarized myself with specialized literature, for which I had to learn the Mexican language, I was able to create excellent conditions for cacti at home, not inferior to natural ones. But it turned out that people barely survive in them.
Therefore, for a long time I could not adapt to the conditions that I created for the cacti. But every day a red bud burned on one of the cacti!
I started a correspondence with cactus growers different countries and peoples, exchanged seeds with them. And then somehow, I don’t remember what month, but I remember that on the twenty-fifth of 1971, some idiot from Brazil sent red grains. I planted it foolishly. This disgrace grew very quickly. But when I realized what it was, it was too late! A huge baobab tree took root in the floor, climbed out of the window with branches and clung to the windows of the neighbors above. They filed a case in a comrades' court. I was given a fine of twenty-five rubles and ordered to cut off the branches of the neighbors above me every month and cut off the roots of the neighbors below me.
They sent so many seeds! Soon I had lemons, bananas and pineapples. Someone wrote to work that he didn’t understand how I could afford such a table with my salary. I was invited to the local committee, tasked with collecting money for a gift for Vasiliev and visiting him: “After all, the man is sick. He hasn't gone to work for two months now. Maybe he's thirsty."
I’m probably confusing the chronology, but in the fall, after lunch, 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 going sailing for a month, let Leshka stay with you during this time.”
He took Leshka out of his briefcase. It was a python. I never saw that person again, but Leshka and I still live side by side. He really likes diet eggs, dumplings and his neighbor on the site, Klavdia Petrovna.
Soon journalists began to come to me. They took photographs, interviews and pineapples.
I'm afraid I'll make a mistake in the chronology, but in the year when I collected an unprecedented harvest of coconuts for our latitudes, the youngsters from the zoo brought a little tiger cub Caesar. In the same harvest year, the sailors of the motor ship “Crimea” gave me two lion cubs as a gift.
Stepan and Masha.
I never thought it was possible to eat so much! All salaries and pineapples not eaten by journalists were exchanged for meat. And I 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? But what does it matter?
When Caesar got together with Mashka, I thought I was going crazy! Stepan made wild scenes for me. And out of grief he killed the ostrich Hippolytus. But I had a free bed, because I threw out the nest that Ippolit had built 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 crocodiles reproduce with difficulty in captivity.” Why shouldn't he reproduce? I came home from work and felt at home in this captivity!
Only once did I lose heart and, as advised, I left the door open for the night. They said maybe someone would leave. The results exceeded all expectations. Not only did no one leave, but in the morning I discovered that I had three more cats, one mongrel, and a neighbor whose wife had left me. The next morning, a woman from 42, to whom her husband had returned, and a pensioner who suffered greatly from loneliness, asked to come to us. How would you like to display a couple with a one-year-old child? They said: “We can’t live with our mother-in-law anymore. Do whatever you want!” I allocated a place for them near the baobab tree.
And the people reached out. A month later, our tribe, including animals, numbered fifteen people. We live together. In the evenings we gather around the fire, some sing, others howl quietly, but everyone keeps the melody!
Not long ago there was an excursion. People from out of town came to look at our living corner. Everyone remained except the guide. She followed the next group.
Yes, once it was anonymous. “Why are so many unregistered living creatures living illegally on an area of thirty-three square meters, while my husband and I are huddled together on an area of thirty-two square meters? Why are we worse than their cattle? We know who wrote it. This is from the thirty-fourth Thin Heavy Hand. They play dogs with their husbands, fight until they get bruises, and then they say that the animals have gotten loose and are pestering strange women!
Eh, I wish I could unleash Caesar and Stepan on them! Come on. Well, it turns out that if you live with wolves, everyone will howl like a wolf, or what?
Eight and a half
You can't trust anyone! The Muscovites swore that they would take Mylovidova a return ticket to Leningrad, but at the last moment, the bastards, they apologized, saying 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 cash register window thirty-five times.
- Don’t have an extra ticket? - he asked the cashier hopelessly.
- There are “eswe” left, will you take them?
- How much does it cost?
- Twenty-six with bed. Do you take it?
Mylovidov had heard about these depraved compartments for two, but he had never ridden them in his life, because they were twice as expensive, and business travelers only paid for the compartment compartment. But there is no choice. There is nowhere to sleep.
- To hell with him! Walk like that! - Mylovidov sighed, painfully gave away a quarter and a ruble with change.
There was a lot of time before departure. Igor Petrovich, puffing on a cigarette, walked along the platform.
- What if it really is? One compartment for two! Who knows who God will send overnight? Suddenly with a lady one on one? Is it in vain that they charge crazy amounts of money? - The blood began to boil and rushed to Mylovidov’s head.
Igor Petrovich often went on business trips, wandered around cities, it seemed logical to happen love adventure, but, alas, it took him a year to return as a faithful husband. Mylovidov knew how to do this from the hunting tales of his comrades. Two or three compliments, a cool joke, a glass of wine and bolder for the attack that is eagerly awaited. Strict morals and a dull life push people into casual relationships. Igor Petrovich was prone to treason, but his bad upbringing did not allow him to board a woman, put his hand on someone else’s knee, or get intimate right away. Every time, whether on the road or in a hotel, he waited like a boy for the beautiful stranger to speak first, understand that Mylovidov was a gift of fate, and pounce. And he won’t resist for long. But no one rushed at Igor Petrovich, the years passed, hope faded, but still glimmered.
Finally the Red Arrow was served. Mylovidov stepped into a mysterious compartment, where, at arm's length, there were two sofas, a table, daisies in a glass and that was all.
Looking around furtively, he snatched a daisy and quickly cut it off to “loves, doesn’t love.”
And it turned out “loves”! “And now we’ll find out who exactly!” - Mylovidov whispered excitedly, leaning back on the sofa.
In my brain, a pinkish fog thickened into a cloud with the outlines of an elegant blonde.
Igor Petrovich mentally conducted a dialogue with her:
- Let me help you throw your suitcase?
- Thank you. You can immediately see that there is a real man in the compartment!
- Don’t doubt about it! For getting to know each other, would you like a glass of port wine for the Brudershaft? (He was bringing a bottle of port from Moscow, bought for the occasion.)
After drinking, the blonde will whisper hotly:
- Could you help me unzip... They make zippers like that, without a man you won’t be able to undress until the morning...
And so it began, let's go! He vaguely imagined the most delightful ugliness, but only one thing, “and here it is, it began, it went,” it burned.
Passengers walked past the compartment along the corridor. Mylovidov tensed his whole body, his ears stood up like a dog’s. When a woman passed, he died, when a man stomped, he still died. 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!
- It’s no different that a Frenchman invented such a piquant type of transport, a compartment for two! Anything can happen here, anything! - Igor Petrovich excited himself. -Where are you going? Here you want it or not. But, however, the entire novel is scheduled to last eight and a half hours. Half past nine in Leningrad. We've arrived!
What if I have port wine, and she asks for cognac and lemon? There are such libertines!
Probably, an experienced heartthrob carries everything in his travel kit: drinks, lemons, preventatives!.. And will you bring home AIDS?! Pah-pah! Only this was not enough! Everything else seems to be there! This can’t happen - for the first time in my life and straight into 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 much is possible? I have never been tormented by remorse, but I would like to!..
Mylovidov’s thoughts were racing like crazy.
- What if he comes in without a suitcase? How then will I tell her: “May I have your suitcase?” Without a suitcase, where to start? Not from port wine! Although time is running out and port wine is the right move... It depends on who you run into.
Mylovidov is tired. My thoughts were confused, the stupid phrase “And so it began, let’s go!”
- flashed more often than others, exciting and exhausting.
Passengers, not knowing anything, walked along the corridor. Mostly men, women also flashed by, but for some reason they walked past. What if you didn’t buy a second ticket?! Travel for twenty-six rubles alone on two sofas?! This is not France, where you can drop into any hotel, pay and love! The only place we can be alone is in the elevator! And here's a whole night for two! Paris on wheels... "Help me unfasten!" Here it is, it's begun, let's go!..
What if you give him port wine to drink, and he’ll fall asleep and won’t wake you up! Here will be the number!
Take a risk without port? A decent lady will not make contact if she is sober!
Damn these "eswe"! Either it’s a matter of reserved seat seating! Everyone is on top of each other and there are no thoughts, let’s get there quickly! And here...
Mylovidov was so caught up in the options that he didn’t immediately notice a blonde on the sofa opposite, exactly the same as he had imagined! Cloud in pants!
Igor Petrovich rubbed his eyes, gallantly jumped up and muttered: “Would you like some port?”
- What port? - the girl’s blue eyes became huge.
- Portuguese!
-Are you crazy? - asked the blonde.
- No. Business trip.
The girl began to rummage in her purse.
- Please! - Mylovidov threw a pack of “Opal”.
The blonde took out a beautiful pack, took out a cigarette, and crumpled it with her fingers. She took out a golden lighter. Igor Petrovich grabbed the box like a Colt cowboy and lit a match while galloping, but the blonde, grinning, lit it with a lighter.
Mylovidov, having gained courage, tried to mentally undress the girl, but, unbuttoning his blouse, he became embarrassed and blushed as if they were mentally undressing him. He lowered his eyes and stared at the lighter. The blonde shook her head: “Take it for yourself!” Igor Petrovich put the lighter in his pocket and didn’t even thank him.
- I can help you put your suitcase! - he suddenly squeezed out, 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. Interrupting the kiss, the guy asked through the blonde’s back:
- What are you doing here?
- I'm on my way here.
- Well, show me the ticket?
- I have a ticket. Here he is.
Taking the ticket, the guy shook his head.
- You need to wear glasses, grandpa. This is sixth place, and you are sixteenth.
Have a nice trip!
- Serge, give him cigarettes, otherwise he smokes Opal! - said the girl.
- Yes, for God's sake! - the guy handed Mylovidov a pack of imported cigarettes and politely sent him out. The door slammed shut.
- Well, here it is, it’s begun, let’s go! - Mylovidov sighed. - But I haven’t seen what happened on number sixteen yet! We must take a look! And singing “I'm unlucky in death, lucky in love,” he walked towards his compartment. The door was closed. From the inside female voice said: “Just a minute! I’ll change my clothes!”
- No man, you're already lucky! So that's it. "Let me help you put your suitcase..."
- Come in! - came from behind the door.
Mylovidov entered. On the left on the sofa, wrapped with his head in a blanket, lay a body.
The voice was certainly female, but under the blanket it was impossible to guess the figure, much less the face. How to get acquainted in such a situation? Moreover, there was no suitcase, so you can’t use your trump card here.
- Good evening! I will be your neighbor!
From under the blanket they hissed in a choked voice:
- Please note, I am married! If you pester me, I’ll scream! You will be imprisoned!
Igor Petrovich was taken aback. When analyzing the games, such a King's Indian principle was never encountered anywhere.
- And maybe I wasn’t going to pester you! To whom? You should at least show your face!
- Maybe I should show you something else! Help!
- They’re not touching you, why are you shouting?!
- So that I know how I’ll scream if you touch me. I can get even louder!
- Wow, they planted a bitch! - thought Mylovidov. - Thank God, the face is not visible. Otherwise you won’t be able to sleep with yourself!
Taking his seat, he carefully took out a bottle of port. “I’ll drink and sleep! To hell with my mother! These women were given to me! Still, there is no one better than my Svetka!
That's who I'd like to be in the same compartment with for the night!"
He took a sip from the bottle. In the silence, the gulp sounded loud, and immediately a hand with a tire iron emerged from under the blanket. A scary woman appeared in front of him in boots, a padded jacket buttoned up with all the buttons, and a helmet. A spitting image of a diver in a spacesuit.
Mylovidov jumped up, spilling port wine:
- What do you want from me in the end?
- Don't touch him!
- Whoever touches you, look at yourself in the mirror!
- They won’t touch me?! Yes, I blink an eye, a flock of people like you will swoop in!
“You’re right, you’re right,” Igor Petrovich muttered, not taking his eyes off the mount.
- Such a woman! I haven’t seen you, but when it’s all... Of course, a whole flock.
You will be torn apart!
- Look at me! - the aunt lay down, carefully wrapping herself in a blanket. Something in it clinked metallic. “Grenades,” Mylovidov realized.
Then the door opened slightly, a pleasant woman said hello and said:
- Excuse me, there is a crazy man in my compartment. Maybe we can switch if your neighbor is female?
- Of course, of course! - Mylovidov shuffled. - What are we talking about? You are a woman, and under the blanket lies the same thing. - Igor Petrovich jumped out of the compartment and crossed himself. - Ugh! Finally, luck! If you turn the wrong way in a dream, the psychopath would kill you! I paid twenty-six rubles, and also hit the crown with a crowbar!
“Branded train”, you can’t say anything! All amenities!
- Good evening! - he said friendlyly, entering the compartment. - And I swapped with your neighbor! These women are always afraid of something! Fools! Who needs them, right?
A big man with sparkling eyes and an aquiline nose said gutturally:
- You changed things with her on purpose, right? 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 you and I are here? So, with me! - Ugh! - the man grabbed his things. - Look for others, you old bugger!
Left alone, Mylovidov took a sip from the bottle:
- Wow, a trailer! A hangout on wheels! Only criminals! What did I tell him? Let's sleep together... Lord! Idiot!
“There are five minutes left before the departure of fast train number two “Red Arrow!”
Please see those seeing you off to leave the carriages!"
- I took a walk, it's time to rest! I paid twenty-six rubles, but for once I’ll sleep on two sofas alone! Let's smoke a cigarette and bye-bye.
Mylovidov closed the door and took off his shoes. He took out a tasty cigarette, pressed the lighter button and a smooth column of fire stretched out in front of him. Like a soldier. Igor Petrovich smiled, lit a cigarette, commanded “at ease,” and the sign 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? Built like a goddess! Skin is silk! Good girl! Forgive me, sunshine! - Igor Petrovich’s eyes tingled. - I'm a son of a bitch! I decided to relax! Take a walk in the "esve" for twenty-six rubles to the fullest! Such men should be shot! - He pressed the lighter button, the light jumped up like a tiny genie, waiting for orders, and at the command “at will” it disappeared.
Igor Petrovich made the bed, tucked the blanket into the sheet, and then there was a knock on the door. He opened it. A luxurious brunette stood on the threshold: “Good evening! I was told there is free space here. Could you help me throw my suitcase upstairs?”
It would seem that everything seemed to have calmed down, but at the sight of the brunette it immediately began to boil and gurgle. Moreover, there was finally a suitcase!
“With pleasure,” Mylovidov rumbled in hussar style, having managed to put both feet into his shoes.
- Oh, Portuguese port! Adore! Can I have a sip?
- At least two! - Igor Petrovich joked successfully and poured a full glass. The lady drank and glanced sideways at the cigarettes.
- "Kemyl"! I recommend it, it's decent. - Mylovidov flicked his lighter. The little genie lit a cigarette and, winking, hid.
The brunette looked with respect at the cigarettes, the lighter and at Igor Petrovich.
She leaned back on the sofa, and two wonderful knees caught Mylovidov’s eyes. He felt young and free: “Here it is! It’s here, let’s go!”
- Your name, madam? - asked Mylovidov.
- Irisha. What about you?
- Igor Petrovich.
- Very nice. Igorek, unzip the zipper, if it’s not too much trouble!
You would have thought Irisha was learning the same script!
The train moved off gently. "It's started, let's go!" - Igor Petrovich muttered, breaking the zipper on his dress. And then a lathered officer appeared at the window. He waved his hand at Irisha, shouting something incomprehensible. Irisha smiled at him, waving her hand, trying to cover Mylovidov with her body. But the colonel saw him and savagely pressed a general’s fist against the glass. For some time he still ran next to him, sending air kisses and mighty fists. Finally, at the sixth kilometer, I got stuck in a swamp and fell behind.
- I'm freezing for some reason! - Irisha whispered, remaining in the combination, proud of her body.
Igor Petrovich looked at the half-naked chest and saw two fists.
“The husband is a colonel! He will kill! The military has its own aviation! He will fly in by plane, meet me at the station, shoot them both! Why do I need it?”
- Igorek, I drank. Now you!
- Don't want! Drink yourself!
- Why are we suddenly using “you”, don’t break down!
- What to do, what to do? - Igor Petrovich could not light a cigarette. The little genie was nervous and trembling with fear. - Accept death because of a woman? Yes, this is the first time I’ve seen her! I haven’t cheated on Svetka for eleven years and I’ll get by somehow!
Mylovidov nodded automatically, not listening to Irisha’s grumbling, wondering how to save his life. And this idiot turned red, put her hands where she wanted them, tried to catch her lips, and he fought back:
- Shame on you! Irina, sorry, I don’t know my middle name! Husband is an officer Soviet Army! Our protector! And you're just getting on the train...
- A husband is a husband, and a train is a train! - Irisha laughed. - Well, hug me quickly! The train is coming!
A little more and the irreparable would have happened! Igor Petrovich, freeing himself, pulled the door open: “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? New troubles could await in any compartment. The wheels rattled softly at the joints. Everyone was asleep. Igor Petrovich looked at the conductor.
- Sorry. I snore and 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 get together.
Mylovidov found the compartment by its sound. 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 his neighbor's snoring he could hear the sound of a horse's hooves. It was the colonel who was overtaking the train and waving a tire iron.
Finally, St. Bartholomew's Night ended. The train arrived in the hero city of Leningrad.
Mylovidov, his face crumpled as if after a spree, went out into the corridor and bumped into Irina. She was as fresh as a May rose. Smiling, she said: “Igorek, bring the suitcase, be a man.” Behind her, in the compartment, purring something, the same man who refused to sleep with Mylovidov was getting dressed. His eyes no longer burned with that hot fire, they quietly smoldered.
Igor Petrovich choked, either from jealousy or from resentment: “He didn’t want to sleep with me, you bastard!” Mylovidov jumped out onto the platform with Irina’s suitcase and collided 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! The lady will confirm!
Irina blew him a kiss. My mother-in-law slapped me in the face. Igor Petrovich almost cried with frustration. “Not only did I not sleep with anyone all night for twenty-six rubles, but for this I also got a slap in the face!”
Igor Petrovich looked around hauntedly. From behind, with his back to him, Irina was hugged by a military man with general's shoulder straps. Mylovidov almost lost consciousness: “Husband!
Got it after all! When did he get promoted to general? Here it is! It's started, let's go!.."
11.08.2003
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