- Sergey Rosedkin -
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ME LIKES DZHULIJA ROBERTS Glik 9	Glik the ninth But — there is a God, is! This first my antifamily crime — waste of a gift grist on a boyish march-throw to Moscow — could leave to me sideways. But the remarkable rule of a life has once again proved to be true: any deadlock at the approach to it closely appears, if the Father Heavenly helps, only turn. When I sat, having been double up, on station sitting and squeezed out from myself litsedejskie despair tears, someone suddenly has uncertainly called-has asked: — Sergey Aleksandrovich? I have lifted a head and have jumped up — Vasily Viktorovich, the director of our university publishing house. Well and well! Here whom I least expected to see-meet. At me in blood — the guarded relation to any heads, and furthermore, to direct. Besides Vasily Viktorovich, the person not on-nachalnicheski soft and affable, some times, considerably reddening, hinted me, that with labour my activity is happy not rather. Well, to argue it was difficult: my poetichesko-Hollywood vitanie in empirejah promoted quality redaktury boring textbooks of methodics and dissertations of homebrew university men of science and ladies … a little But there, on Paveletsky, I, having forgotten all and everything, nearly have not thrown the arms round the darling chief a neck. Vasily Viktorovich, certainly, has penetrated into position (and how not to penetrate — the person obokrali impudent Moscow thieves directly in underground transition!), has unfastened on loan to the gawk to the subordinate money for reserved seats, it has bought, that in the car (it is good still, compartment was not — they almost three times now more expensively), has paid in the car for bed (well unless it was possible to refuse-save?), moreover and tea with cookies has given to drink is, certainly, as though it is not counted a debt, but all the same the round bill stolnik has run … Eh, and razvorchitsja my Anna Ioannovna, especially still to think up it was necessary, on what I hundred roubles have suddenly borrowed also all have spent. But if I at that time know-represented, that I utvorju on 2nd of December, in day of a pay! And utvoril I the following: has undersigned for the sheet, has received the of one and a half rate (to us, editors, in all paid under one and a half rate, differently the salary would be absolutely improbable), rovnyohonko 714 roubles, has repaid a debt to Vasily Viktorovichu, has brought the share for the Internet, has gone home on foot, has come-has glanced on road to three-four places and, prished nah a house, to stretch supruzhnitse that remains from the salary — 100 roubles of 00 copecks. Thus I had still the nerve, breathing a mix of vodka with beer and pripodymaja a cellophane package with cargo to mutter absolutely idiotic: Is … here … Anja … as though a gift to you … to protection … Anna, it is perfect opupevshaja, has tried to take a package before sotennoj pieces of paper, but I have hidden it for a back: eight videocassettes there laid. In general, if frankly, I and itself do not understand, how I it otchubuchil. It was similar to sorcery, narcotic intoxication, a time eclipse of mind, on a schizophrenia attack, at last! Simply I more and more time re-read article in «Mari Kler», tried to discover on the Internet and downloaded all new and new photos Dzhulii, shots from films, reviews, and first of all — connected with «Notting Hill». I already understood-realised quite what exactly this picture most strongly will irritate to me is disturbing-is delightful to a shower. And the most insulting: any chmo otvjaznye, snobs narrow-minded, onanisty arthropods have already looked «Notting Hill», through a lip on a film it argue, is indulgent edak praise also the suchju irony to the address of mine Dzhulii exercise-isprazhnjajut, and I as last loh, I sit before a computer and on their smelly word believe them. Geeks! … Dzhulija Roberts has participated in strjapne the next fairy tale. This time for men ("Beauty" was for women). Thanks to it the fairy tale has turned out beautiful, qualitative, real (absence of magic, explosions, special effects and the tense, unreal plot means). The idea of a film is unreal: the movie star falls in love with the man in the street. Present, what with us will be, if all man's part of the population sits down to wait haljavnogo for happiness slozha a hand? Women, ponder! And if your husband (groom) is pensive, protect it from this drug!. Wrote it, apparently, big hohotun, already time five had been ill with a gonorrhea, wrote with big boduna for hohmy and for money, and any silly woman, like my Anna, indeed will apprehend as the guide to action. And so, no mockers Internet and any anny ioannovny will prevent me to see «Notting Hill» and as soon as possible, immediately, urgently, this second!. I so myself adjusted it, having glanced after a pay in a bar on Komsomol, vdariv hundred fifty "Provincial" and washing down a repugnant liquid beer «Baranovsky a wolf». I have looked round: in gadjushnike it was awfully disgusting. The couple of vagabonds sat at one little table with me — it and it, both in the improbable tatter, letting out round a wave of the dense concentrated stench. The woman, opening wide a toothless wet mouth, watered the drinking companion with a perfect floor-mat, trying to pull out from it skrjuchennyh dirty fingers a disposable crackling glass with a vodka drink. The muzhik resisted, shcheril whether in a smile, whether in silent shout black hemp of the remained canines and all pulled a free hand to the person of the girlfriend, intending, it is visible to make smaz, but that all time evaded-unyrivala. At last the vagabond managed to achieve the, but, to my greatest amazement, instead of universal smazi or a push-slap in the face the man's individual has stroked female on a wrinkled dirty cheek and proshamkala through yelping laughter: — The silly woman, Ljubka, sh-sh-shto you! Directly nastojashch-shch-shchaja durishch-shch-shcha! — Why? — Has stood with insult "Ljubka". — Yes patamu shta it is impossible to be on shvete krashchi-and-willow tako-about th!. And «the White eagle», having used otoropju dirty dultsinei, has pulled out from its tenacious fingers the paw with a precious vessel, has at one stroke drunk up-has swallowed ostatnjuju vodka, has gallantly grunted, has stopped up a hole of a mouth with a lump of the fallen asleep cheburek and with bravado at me has looked: a pier, here is how with them, women, it is necessary … my God, yes they, podi, other hot minutes also kiss?! I have got out on street, have cleaned-has washed out deep breaths lungs — air was crude, dense, dense: despite the beginning of December the temperature kept pljusovaja, and from the sky any drizzle incessantly exuded. So suddenly sharply it wanted a holiday, a solar beam, pleasure. And here still I hear: — About, Sergey! Kohl! Your mother! Fine!!! You whence, road? And mood I look — neither in p … du *, nor in Krasnu Army? And well, a metal plate-fly, ajda back, mother your, my and our!. Well, directly, the God has sent — Arcady Teljatnikov. In teenage prikide (light jeans in covering, a jacket rokerskaja with an inscription «PLAYBOY», adidasovsky a cap and moccasins on monstrous protectors) so similar, contrary to age, on the mobile bright teenager. The person I, in general, not sociable is time to admit, likely, that. Yes, with friends-friends at me — so happens — naprjazhyonka. In essence, one friend-friend at me in all Baranove also is — Teljatnikov Arcady, the poet under the status and the person good at heart. He for thirty five years longer me lives on light, however souls we, such impression, coevals, and can be, it and will be younger still than me. We have converged with it, time casually in this bar (which is-costs along the line local members pissojuza from the press House to a trolleybus stop and plays for them a role of local branch of buffet TSDL) has met somehow, at once have passed on "you", and I whether did not know its patronymic never, whether have forgotten at all. Arcady confirmed by itself and all essence simple true which the majority of people by nonsense and bents to conceit the nobility-understand persistently do not want, namely: the age of the person is defined not by quantity of grey hairs-wrinkles on a transitory body, and — a soul condition. Arcady in 25 years when I also in the project was not, wrote fervent Komsomol propaganda materials, now, in the 65, writes-composes juicy, overflowed with young passion and love energy erotic verses, which, really, on enthusiasm to those, komsomolsko-former also odds will give … We with Arcady, naturally, have returned to a bar, I have reserved on hundred "Provincial" with the beer trailer, half an hour thoroughly has clinked glasses also communicated. It, Arcady, surprising somehow always loads me (and as I have noticed, not only me, and any who communicates with it) energy, optimism and uharstvom. Whisper to talk my friend was not able and did not wish, and as at the one and a half metres with a cap the baritone had marvellously loud and with ease blocked all noise of a snack bar, doing by involuntary witnesses of our is intimate-beer conversation of all present. However, the theme of our conversation could not interest local beau monde. — How, Arcady, pishetsja-is composed? — I, having pacified palyonuju have asked vodka a kind drink of "Wolf". — Hu … in! — the friend has answered with a bitter snicker, having moistened skewbald moustaches in beer foam and, having noticed as I on a habit have frowned and has reproachfully rocked a head, on a habit has waved away: — Yes will suffice you, the intellectual of horse-radishes, here all use foul language! And verses, the brother, have absolutely ceased to print, and if print, pay — mandavoham on laughter. And here earlier!. And Arcady was started up in sweet memoirs on the past, when for each of four-five sbornichkov in size with a notebook, left in Central Black Earth publishing house, ogrebal it gonorary the stunned. — Time has arrived from Voronezh after an exit of the next book, — the poet told, — has come to children to edition molodyozhki, already poddatyj, of course, and on a bet all floor in an office entirely ustelil quarter denominations — walk, friends, your mother!. This story without fools has excited me. I after all in a shower, if frankly, — the poet. It is what krasotishcha: to go in the seven-rouble worn out low shoes on a carpet-oriental carpet from crackling money, to treat crowd of friends-friends with champagne with cognac to zahlyobu, sincerely having forgotten for a while about expecting the house the spouse, the mother-in-law and children … Is not present, the right, what perfect slogan of truly happy reckless people: eh, odnova we live! And — a cap ozem … Having said goodbye to Arcady, I, under impression of its story, have jumped Soviet and almost run have directed to shop-salon "Lyre": yes let all light will fail in tartarary, yes let all world a cancer will rise, and I will look today «Notting Hill»! In "Lyre" as I heard in a radio advertising, there were the lowest prices. I considered before somehow videocassettes in department of city department store — there they were on sale both on 90, and on 120 and even on 200 just over roubles for a piece. Well, this time advertising has not deceived: all cartridges in "Lyre" cost for some reason all on 45 roubles — whether what rejected, whether stolen … However, not to me, with my copecks in a pocket was to be fastidious. I have rushed to show-windows and at once have seen-has beheld a familiar poster of "Beauty", then «the Run away bride», and then three more cartridges which even did not dream to see — with initial, absolutely early films Dzhulii: « Mystical pizza "," Steel magnolias "and" In bed with the enemy ». But« Notting Hilla »was not. Lines! Well does not carry so does not carry! And, what, not solono hlebavshi to be left-retire? However, I have not tried to persuade long myself. I have got money, with a dead-pan have paid 225 rublikov and have loaded precious cartridges into a package. Intoxicating blood of the embezzler hotly ran-pulsed on my veins, did not wish to cool down — I have asked the seller: — Also what, it is more under such price anywhere in a city the cartridge to buy it is impossible? — Nelzja! — the seller (he was obvious "Caucasian") has answered. — In «Dome targovli» — a pas shestdesjat … While the fuse has not come to an end, I at a tort have reached quickly «the trade House» and there have snipped off two more cartridges on 60 re — "Stepmother" and «Wedding of my best friend». My desired film again it has not appeared. And then, already at all having gone mad and understanding, that to a course is not present back, I and have rushed off skipping back — to GUMu. And there, at last, for 90 roubles I also have snipped off a video copy of a film which dreamt to see-look to spasms in heart, to convulsions in a shower … When there was I before the Anna Ioannovnoj, hiding a package with precious cargo behind the back, spasms in my heart have ceased, convulsions in a shower oslabli, is more correct — have replaced polarity. I have realised-has understood up to the end — scandal not to avoid, completely not Hollywood fairy tale, and ugly ours rasejsko-chernozyomnaja household drachka-quarrel now will begin. And such melancholy has seized heart and soul, such there melancholy convulsions-spasms have begun, that I as katorzhanin at Dostoevsky, suddenly by all means, at least for a while and has at any cost decided to change a fate, to keep away the ending of the videopokupochnogo binge. Having clamped sotennuju in a fist, I bormotnul something inarticulate supposedly still is necessary to me somewhere minutes on five, has pushed away a foot of the Dollar which all rubbed about trousers, was purred-greeted with me, and has jumped out for a door. In five minutes I sat in cafe "Славянка" and with desperate scope of the rasstratchika-suicide walked to the full extent. However, stolnika has sufficed only on three hundred grammes of vodka, a beer mug, meat in a pot and a sandwich with cheese. But with the account of a former half-bottle to me has sufficed to be typed to spirit for the whole evening under the outset. Details of that fight with my Anna Ioannovnoj I do not remember, and to recollect I do not want. Vaguely I remember only as all the evening long held-hid in the bosom, under a vest and a sweater, a package with cartridges, carefully preserving-covering their hands, and cried out a bad voice: «do not touch mine Dzhuliju! Not tro-about-ozh, the daughter s-s-dog!.», — and in the morning — so dressed and with the inflated stomach — has woken up on a folding bed. Thanks God, any cartridge has not crushed! ____________________________ * Certainly, similar words Sergey as now also it is accepted, has written completely; I have dared at least hardly to cover-veil with their dots. <<<Glik the eighth Glik the tenth>>>
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© Rosedkin Sergey Nikolaevich, 2001
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