- Sergey Rosedkin -
		p r about z and
	Main | News | Cut-away | fotobio | Prose | About Dostoevsky | J. Roberts | Humour | Non-fikshn | Criticism | Teen Porn
Lifting, 1996, № 8.	Ljuger The story 1 From the end of May and here which day our black-soil belt parodies Africa. The temperature in a shade vzbrykivaet to thirty five, and ours spirit tselsy, hanging behind a window on the blaze of the sun, and at all reads off scale for half-hundred. All doors, windows in apartment are open, but even the mister the Draft, apparently, has languished from a heat and podryomyvaet somewhere in a corner under a sofa. Our red fluffy kotjara rolls for days on end a layer on a carpet, having rejected paws, almost without consciousness, being exhausted in the barsko-Siberian fur coat. I, having a shower bath continuously then and each hour water from under a shower, already hardly kept myself behind a desk – brains have fused, job did not go. So, when supruzhnitsa has tinkled from service and has shy offered-has asked: the pier, instead of would go you on a kitchen garden yes would not water perishing for ponjuh to tobacco a vegetable – I broke not for long. Has However, made, of course, a kind as if at me behind a table job boils, rages and foams, and if I respond to the request garden it is necessary to perceive it as great self-sacrifice and a feat … I was going to quickly. In a backpack always already on call all necessary without what it is impossible to leave for a city – on fishing, on mushrooms, on a garden site. Whether it is not enough of that! So I have only dissolved in cold water of currant jam, have filled with a berry juice a plastic cylinder from under "Hershi", have put it in a backpack, and a backpack pritorochil to a bicycle luggage carrier. Then it was habitually equipped: a white sateen cap, points, a vest with a yacht on a breast, swimming trunks, proletarsko-red pants with white lampasami, sandalety. When dragged out from a loggia a bicycle, kotjara has lifted was a heavy charcoal head – whether to jump out in a corridor? But I have shouted: – Lay, lay, the sufferer! In such heat only strong beings, with character, operate – where to you! Kosmatik it agree has yawned and has dropped moustached bashku back in a dream. I, in an anticipation of already fast immersing in is cool-key waters of lake, have really felt inflow of energy and forces. Has vigorously squeezed a bicycle in the lift, has then pulled out it from an entrance, has bridled and has driven, pressing through-moving apart a yacht kiselnoe a haze of betonno-asphalt city heat. Fortunately, we live near to small river. All steam of dangerous crossroads, and here I already have left behind a foot suspension bridge through small river, flat descent with three enormous beds has driven, glancing with envy on the left, where on a beach kejfovala crowd of idle naked townspeople. On betonku providently to leave did not become – many madwomen автó yes plus to all jolty seams-ruts through each five metres. No, I very quietly also have modestly driven on a foot tropochke-roadside, tenderly tinkling zvonochkom pospeshajushchim on the fazendy to old men-old women. However, evening so for a city have directed on shank's mare and not having inhabitants who have fulfilled wheels has approached. Got denser directly on eyes and a stream of limousines – "zaporozhki", "zhiguljata", "volzhanki", foreign cars. By the way, at me after all too a foreign car: two-wheeled road car «Stork« of noble colour of coffee with milk – «Made in Belorus». Now such вéлик already on a half-lemon pulls – a hundred times more than "Muscovite" before reorganisation. Behind the second bridge I have curtailed on the left, on old roundabout road, and have rushed on-over the right coast of the river, obvilivaja ruts, on break asphalt of a housing estate. When I go one, without the wife with its sluggish-ladies' jalopy, I squeeze out of "Stork" decent speed. Yes and it is more pleasant – though it is sensitive obvevaet sweated chresla, the person and a breast. On entrance to wood – and it begins at once behind an extreme kitchen garden of settlement – I ritually throw up the right fist, I welcome: – Hi, Wood! Wood willingly responds solovinymi trills. These ingenious sonorous birds in given more, such impression, – the whole concert brigade. And this suburban wood is surprisingly dense, chashchoben, dik, is valid – a dense forest a dense forest I with redoubled zeal podnalyog for pedals, listening to nightingales and itself whistling-snapping under a nose is not worse than wood Caruso. Continually I was overtaken legkovushki, by minibuses, lorries. I at times overtook only any zarzhavlennyh djadek and tetyoh, dragged with a scratch on dirty velokljachah. Here whom I do not understand and I hate – ekonomshchikov lubricant butter. That at them at so joints creaked! The road winds that directly through a thicket I am come up-is pulled out on open space of a coastal glade And here on the next light site and uvidal bordovo-red "zhigul", stuck on a roadside. Not far, at a wood edge, the thick person in jalovyh boots, trousers-riding breeches and a shirt navypusk colours khaki efficiently bossed an axe. It peeled branches with young, still standing on roots osinki. I involuntarily tormoznul. The first thought: after all I was just overtaken by five-six cars – why it so openly poaches? I have noticed through glass of "Zhigulis": on back sitting already whole bunch of birch and aspen stumps obliquely lays. Delavar in riding breeches, it is visible, made props tomato. — Hey! – as it is possible more religiously I have called. – that you do?! The martinet has turned back: smoothfaced, krasnomordyj, two enormous, with fasolinu, warts over the right eyebrow and near by; eyes pork, buravchatye. Obviously – the retired major or the prapor-petty tyrant, has seen I such in army. Three have by flown one behind another автó. The muzhik has measured me with a scornful sight from ochochkov to sandalet together with mine "lisapedom", has spitted out-has hushed through a tooth. – Ezzhaj eat, the guy, further from a sin, do not stir here! It otvorotilsja, has sat down on hunkers, undertook to cut the peeled tree. It me literally for a fly, for the small insect held! Heart at me zabuhalo, has jumped up to a throat. I have thrown a foot through a saddle, tears from a bicycle, have firmly ordered: – And I have told – to stop! And – immediately! This elk has turned back through a shoulder, silently has begun to look at me. Its person was poured by a paint, flushed under colour of "Zhigulis". Suddenly he has jumped, has intercepted unambiguously an axe and, poigryvaja zajchikami, netoropko and hard going, has moved to my party. I have become puzzled. The reason prompted: will not dare, the reptile, frightens only! And serdchishko – a press! A press!! A press!!! Painfully sight bad at kurkulja – transparent with hatred, mad. Such happen – I saw – at addicts and loonies. And I have trembled. Worse that: I – have begun to fuss. I have looked back – whether was not present what mashinyoshki? It is deserted. And me – where?! The muzhik on the right and hardly on a course. If to jerk forward, it across will intercept. And if back – while you will be developed! And here I have noticed with horror – the pedal left at mine "is great" sticks out hardly in protivohod, on a brake. Well, all – vlip! But the truth speak: in a minute mortal forces of the person treble. I have pushed with all weight of a body a bicycle forward, on the dispersal, two-three times have powerfully made a start from asphalt and have jumped on the move in a saddle. The infernal pain has pierced a groin, I nearly have not thrown a wheel, but have kept, have caught soles of a pedal and, standing, have started to knead-trample down without restraint the shatunno-pedal mechanism, jerks speeding up. The flown into a rage loony has jumped to road, has thrown out a hand with an axe and tsapanul. I have heard-has felt a metal gnash-blow. I was frightened: now it will throw the foolish axe as a tomahawk, and that will be cut to me directly between shovels!. 2 otmchalsja I of steps hundred, have turned back, have braked, have taken breath. The poacher, already having forgotten about me, walked delovo to wood. I have looked: red svetovozvrashchatel as a cow language sliznula, the wing back is broken to a wheel. From a city next "Field" rushed. I have waited, while it will drive, has reduced crippled "Stork" on a grass, has laid, has untied a backpack. It was necessary, to the idiot, at once, even before vain conversations with this the swine, a backpack to disturb. The matter is that in a set of necessary things without which it is impossible to leave from the house, among validol, a vial with cologne, a knife, a cord, matches, a note with FIO, the address and group of blood, bandage, etc . In rjukzachke mine the thingummy – ljuger was stored also most naineobhodimejshaja in our gloomy days. vosmizarjadnyj an automatic pistol of German manufacture of calibre of 8 mm. I have bought it last year when dojchmarka cost hardly more tyshchi the wooden. It together with pair boxes of cartridges has managed to me without small in four salaries. On a holster I have saved. I have sewed-has bungled an excellent holster from old student's – under a crocodile – a portfolio. But all the same the wife and up to that moment grumbles for razor family cash desk, the truth, I do not listen to it: that from the woman you will take – brains kurichi! Yes, start up a pistol only gas, but the one who can glance in a bottomless hole of a barrel, unless will see, what a trunk from within smooth, without narezov? And a gas charge from crystal Ohlorbenzilidenmalononitrila so as required dolbanyot on eyes, that ambala will fall down any from feet, will force to cry and howl from a pain. And though I never could not start the gun yet, but I knew the theory perfectly. And the main thing since ljuger at me has appeared, I began to hold myself more confidently and more sedately. I have ceased to be afraid! By the way, I already dreamt to arm for a long time. At mine is intelligent-hilovatoj the constitution to me continually had to retire to the background, recede, keep mum in a rag. Any boor broad-shouldered could spoil to me mood. So, when have resolved at last and at ours "dermokratii" to mere mortals to arm at least with "GAZ cars", I am instant, despite poverty, have lighted up. Has got all inquiries, has collected-has implored tughriks, there has passed at additional expense instructing and at last has received the permission. I wanted-searched only ljuger. I about him subtracted a minute of rest whether in novel Hemmeta, whether Chandler, and, can, and Reksa Stout. Painfully the name-surname charuet-intrigues, sounds mysteriously and terribly. It to you not any antediluvian has gone-ordinary Mauser, a browning, valter or a revolver. In addition I have learnt, that a system pistol ljuger – the direct descendant-relative of the well-known automatic pistol. And after all «pair bellum» – the second part of a Latin proverb «Si vis pacem, para bellum!» («If you look for peace – prepare for war!»). Well, who could think – what poetry! At first, the truth, I was lost in day-dreams zaimet a gas revolver of model "Ljuger" – besides, a tribute to children's hobby for westerns; however, the drum-type feature from family ljugerov has appeared in one and a half time more expensively a pistol colleague – has not pulled. However, the pistol «Ljuger М‑88» let and not so is effective by sight, but it is easier than a revolver, is more compact, is convenient in job and has on two charges more. So, minute has come to test mine ljuger in business. I take out it from a holster, for something I blow in a barrel. Halves a kilogramme of soothing weight pleasantly delay a hand, ridge cheeks of a handle, having clung to a palm, merge with it. I specially yet do not cock a shutter. I rise and, holding ljuger behind the back, widely I pace on road. The sun ruthlessly zhgyot-blinds eyes. The muzhik with enthusiasm destroys the next tree, not noticing anybody and anything around. I descend from asphalt, I come nearer to "Zhigulis", I expose a pistol from a stomach. – Hey! Hey, tovarishchch! That pulls a head, with wild bewilderment stares burkaly. Its mouth rasshchelivaetsja, gold and iron cutters sparkle. It in a tetanus. From a chin it is flown down by labour sweat. – Hey! An axe throw! Throw an axe aside, I speak to you! In the cowards and a vest I feel pionerchikom, playing "Summer lightning". I in a pointed manner, for show, delay the left hand a casing-shutter up to the end, hitching up on a fighting platoon a cock, sharply I release. Under the influence of a hard returnable spring the shutter directs forward, terribly clanks, exhausting a cartridge in a cartridge chamber. – N-u-u-u! – I have bellowed, having pulled a barrel. Prapor stupidly looks since a half-minute, suddenly poses a brutal grimace, jumps, again, as recently, intercepts-compresses toporishche the turned white fingers and the robot goes on me to the mental. Chyor-r-rt! It is necessary to dare! I seize a handle both sweaty palms, I throw out ljuger for all length of hands, I catch on a front sight raskrasnevshy the bull forehead. Not to hasten – a charge uboen only to three metres. Sweat streams from under a cap, fills in eyes, prevents to aim. Shot! The loony stumbles, winds, as a bull, a head and, having flapped backhand the axe, rushes on me... «That's all! Means, cartridges, as at Igor Talkova, – false! Now my brains will scatter!.» I at all press breath in a throat, I bite to a pain a lip and smoothly I press the doggie. I feel, as if even I would see, how in a metal interior ljugera slides off downwards whispered, releasing a cock – the cock, in turn, darts off, ruthlessly beats the drummer – that punches brisk a cap – the cap ignites and blows up in a cartridge gunpowder – poisonous crystals, having squeezed out-razlepestiv yellow plastic zaglushki, are pulled out from a trunk by a powerful stream, run into a flesh … my Enemy drops an axe, clings clumsy fingers for the person, falls on knees, utykaetsja a forehead in a grass, vzvyvaet. – Here so! – I speak, restoring breath, and more some instants I keep on a front sight trimmed, all in grey folds, a nape of the villain. Then I approach to it closely, I lift from the earth an axe. Now it is necessary to operate bright – this bear oklemaetsja already through heels of minutes. At first, in a fever, I want rasshibit to hell into smithereens all glasses in the thieves' car. The rage in me and boils-presses. I now will render in the name of it the grabber to all neighbours hapuzhnym on summer residences-kitchen gardens which have fenced vnagluju the sites with the oaklets stolen in wood yes birches. I want also that this reptile has answered and for the become impudent priests-nehristej who on a light holiday of the Sacred Trinity ruin the whole groves of blossoming birches instead of on ancient orthodox custom to decorate temples on pleasure to the God and people of all only with modest birch branches. Uh to me all these poachers, pogubiteli Russian wood also are hated! In our okajanno-reorganisation days, having scented bespredel, they destroy-ruin trees openly, fearlessly and without a measure. I was ready already sadanut with scope an axe on a windscreen as suddenly, already slightly podostyv, reasonably myself I ask: and what for in wood bogomerzko glass to litter? And then I accurately and slightly tjukaju obushkom on glass over and over again. It razzvezdivaetsja-tumanitsja webs of cracks. In the same way I decorate-spoil back glass and lateral. Well, not-e-et, it a little! Start up will pay for trees wholly and more expensively. I postpone ljuger for a grass, I seize toporishche two hands, I swing the arm with all the heart and I gasp on the right forward wheel, aiming to get a britvenno-sharp corner. I punch from the first blow – the wheel has got tired pshikaet and I settle I pass to the following … When I prikanchivaju last wheel, the owner of a wheelbarrow, having ceased to howl and groan, pass to a perfect floor-mat and damnations, starts korjachitsja-rise with knees, squeezing out eye fists. Its person bagrovitsja terrible blisters. – The swine! Padljuga! Razdolbaj gryobanyj! I will kill, a bough! – it roars-cries. And here I arrive severely and silly. I, as the moor who has made the just cause, should leave. And instead, uslyhav threats and having remembered instantly as this male pig only by miracle has not cut to me an axe into a backbone, I pick up ljuger from a grass and convulsively, in an emphasis, it is literally from two steps, I thrust a new charge to it in a muzzle... And here brakes behind squeal. I turn around – a patrol canary UAZ. From it two cops jump out. At forward, ordinary, the sheep-dog is torn from a lead; the second, the sergeant, on run unbuttons a holster of the "Makarova". I instinctively, automatically reject ljuger aside... 3 chertyhnuvshis, I tormoznul – nearly have not slipped the turn. Asphalt escaped from the river to the right, and I should turn off together with a channel on the left. Further, up to a kitchen garden it was necessary to shiver third more ways on koldobistoj to a first coat. From claret "zhigulja" I otmahal, dreaming, already kilometre three. I have recollected a lazy pejorative sight of the poacher, its impudent vile voice... Chyor-r-rt, well why at me is not present ljugera! And here I have grown furious, psihanul seriously: yes at what here ljuger?! Most it is necessary to be the muzhik! And not such this reptile healthy – if to blink the eyes. And not such it abrupt – on pont a beret. To it has given in, has receded – so what here, to devils dog, ljuger? Time-maz-nja in a cap! And before to me became toshno on a shower, nasty. Yes how much it is possible to recede and become flustered? And to go all life on the semibent? And these svolochugi in riding breeches and in soul will spit with impunity? Mongrels!. And I the mongrel if now I will not return! I have pumped up myself under an outset – to breathe became unbearable. Nearby, in a depression in the ground at a stream, – a heap of windfallen trees. I have come off a bicycle, have chosen a weighty knotty cudgel about a hand in the thickness, have attached it behind a backpack on a luggage carrier. And – has jerked. I twisted-wound pedals standing, as if spurtoval in prestigious bicycle race. Few minutes later I have flown up to that ill-starred place. Red rubbishy "Zhigulis" was not. Over a grass stuck out lonely thin hemp, yes the chopped off branches rolled small groups. From above all as unmercifully scorched-burnt down the sun. In a grass underfoot something zolotilos-sparkled, similar on streljanuju a sleeve. To bend down it would not be desirable. In general, it would not be desirable neither to move, nor to think, to speak. It would be desirable nothing. I have got up somehow on a bicycle and have gone home. 1995
çç ● èè
© Rosedkin Sergey Nikolaevich, 2001
E-mail: emp-reports@fustercluck.com