Humour - page 334
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The answer to the old question is Shozahu... Why ?
Mum's at the cottage, the key's on the table, there's no need to make breakfast. Holiday's coming, eight years old, in August it'll be nine. It's nine in August, seven on the clock, the sky is light and flat, the sun has left faded streaks in my hair. A sleepy wisp clutched in the palm of my hand, and let it slip through my fingers. Vitya from the tenth floor calls again for a swim. We must hurry as fast as we can - in case they run away, leave us behind. Vitya has finished the fourth grade, which means he is almost old. Shorts and a T-shirt - a simple outfit, an apple for an afternoon snack. Vitya will teach me to dive, he promised, I remember. To the river, the road is rough and rugged and familiar. Dusty feet like mother's mittens. The leaves are like rags in this heat. Maybe we'll play later, I'll ask for hide-and-seek. Vitya, he's kind, just like the boy from Jules Verne. I'll ask them to let me drive, I guess they'll let me. It'll be dark in the evening. A day before the end of the week. I turn to the wall. One hundred, ninety-nine.
Mum's at the cottage. Bicycle. Have an exam tomorrow. The sun licks the synopsis with caressing eyes. Morning and all night to sit and wait for summer. In August I'll be a student, now I'm neither. Bread is stale and cheese is off the knife. Vitya from the tenth floor is now in his third year. Knows all the smart professors, writes software at the firm. He's thin, ironic and black-browed, just like a movie hero. Writes notes to my sister, gives her flowers when she gets paid, except I swim faster and compose better. It's just my sister's face is lighter, I'm heavier and meaner, we climb on the porch and fly a kite. It looks like they're leaving in the night, I'm seeing the train off. The river rustles, rustles at my feet, it's waist-deep now. Seventy-eight, seventy-seven, I cry with my back to the train. Let them hide, all of them, I will not look for them.
Mum's at the cottage. My head's buzzing. Sleepy nonsense. Cat nestled on my chest, the sun on my blanket. Cups, palms and jumpers, coffee, I pray. Did anyone see me yesterday? Better not say. Let it be the big secret of a little debauchery, everyone was drunk, weightless, warm with his brother's warm breath, throat hoarse with chatter, ashes flew from the balcony, all at each other - and all alone, alive and unruly. If we chip in a rouble each, breakfast will come to our lodge, Lord, how I love you all, rainbows in the palms of my hands. The street in sunny lace, Vitya, wash the plates. You can lie down and come to life. We can go to the river. I'll catch you and subdue you, I'll make you get a haircut, a shave. Nose to the broken bark. Thirty-four, thirty...
Mum's in the picture. The keys are in the lock. Eight hours to summer. Sun on the walls, on the backpack, in old sandals. Sleepy paws through the square and nowhere to go. Vitya is in America. I am in Moscow. A river in my distant childhood. Apple's eaten, train's gone, goes to Nice somewhere, I start counting from a hundred, my life from one. Struggling, crying with it in unison, clowns in the arena. "Twenty-one," I mutter through sleep. "Forty," time laughs. Forty and the first grey, forty-one to the hospital. Twenty-one, I live alone. Twenty, eyes to fight, legs scratched, demon in my rib, my thoughts run wild, someone's waiting for me in the yard, someone's on the tenth. Ten, I finish fourth grade, I don't have to make breakfast. Gotta hurry up with all my legs and eyes. I'll be nine in August. Eight, to carry the keys around my neck, to melt in the sun's hymn.
Three. Two. One. I'm going looking. Lord, help me.
Jozek wakes up in the middle of the night, grabs her hand, breathing heavily:
"I had a scary dream, I was so scared for you..."
Magda sleeps like a baby, smiling in her sleep, unable to hear.
He kisses her shoulder, goes into the kitchen, flicks on a lighter.
Then he comes back and looks and the bed is completely empty,
- What the hell? - Józio thinks. - Where could she have gone?
"Magda's dead, Magda's long gone," he suddenly remembers,
And so he stands in the doorway, stunned, with a beating heart...
Magda is hot and something presses on her chest, she sits up in bed.
- Jozek, I'll open the window, okay? - whispers in his ear,
She strokes his head, touches him gently with her fingers,
Goes to the kitchen, drinks water, comes back with a mug.
- Are you thirsty? - and no one's there, no one's answering.
"He died a long time ago!" - Magda sits on the floor and howls.
It's the fifth year the briars and ivy have been hanging around their fences.
And they still dream and dream of each other.
Nah, it's a matter of principle.)
Hi,
Do they write on the walls in St. Petersburg?
Hey,
Do they write on the walls in St. Petersburg anymore?
Hi )
Yeah, peter's the city of intelligent hooligans.)
It's an outrage!
I've been unbanned again.
How long will this bacchanalia go on?
How long can I ask to be banned forever?
We'll have to do it again...
By the method of successive approximation. A month.