StaWle Zosimov Wisewordski - Notes of a Russian homeless. Humorous stories

© StaWle Zosimov Wisewordski, 2019

ISBN 978-5-0050-8419-4

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

P.s.: Link to the audiobook at the end of the book

After I wrote to my mother: “Come lard, hello mom!”, I walked in the direction of my hungry study hostel and thought:

– — What is the difference between Russians and Americans and Europeans?

– — And by the fact that they live and think logically, we are abstract. – I answered myself and walked on. I wanted to drink – scary and bite. I’m going, so I’m going through an alley into the distance of a concrete-tiled fence of some production enterprise. I see it is getting dark. I hear that on the other side of the fence someone makes a quiet, but piercing, not able to whistle. I answered the same. I see that a potato bag flies from something on the other side of the fence, stuffed with something on me as well. I bounced, and the bag touched the departure of a dog of an unknown breed, left not long before me. I went up to him, examined him curiously and, not suspecting or thinking about anything, untied him, and there …, there?! There he was packed full, even pressed with smoked sausage. Without thinking about anything, I pulled one out, grabbed the bag by the Adam’s apple and, throwing it on my shoulders, I accelerated at the speed of the Ferrari towards my hostel, devouring that unforgettable sausage stick along the way.

I immediately wanted to study and live.

What happened then?! Kuzya. Lee: he’s a whistler, he’s a potato bag thrower, he’s also a native of Syktyvkar and came to his friend and accomplice: a native of the Aldyrbaguy gorge, the farm “Give me to eat”, whose role I played in captivity and does not speak Russian.

– — Where is the bag? Kuzya asked.

– — And you threw her? – Hebrew comrade answered the question.

– — And you whistled?

– -And you..??

Then comes a mute battle. But honestly, the sausage was bitter and thin and tasty…

P.S.: We sold the floor of the bag to the family and were flooded with a sea of swill and foolishness… The session was presented with a bang…

The other day, for not surrendering the session, they took me into the ranks of the armed forces of the Soviet Union, that is, in the army. There, in a month, I forgot everything that I studied in day-care centers, a kindergarten, in high school and in two vocational schools with the number: seven hundred eight thousand nine hundred forty-three point twenty-four-hundredths, which was to the left of the avenue from the beard to the bald spot, where underground.

We stand, so we are almost on duty at the entrance to the military unit and smoke cigarettes at the entrance. Then there was a crisis in our restless country. The time was hard, cigarettes three packs a month. And our part is located next to the collective farm “Bull udder” and this is true. So we stand and smoke, and Baba Yaga peeps out from behind a tree. True, her name was Jadwiga. Well. – we think, – an old chick and, despite it, we dream about bushes with blackberries. And she screams, interrupting our thoughts. She is deaf and blind.

– — Oh, soldiers, respond, awww?!

– — B, fool, what are you yelling, old? We are eight hundred and two centimeters away from you?! Behind the fence!!

– — As?

– — Bes! – answered the duty officer again. – What do you need, say, or go carrot chop?

– — Me, says the very old granny. – you need to go for a sale, – and smiled, – a little pig, Boryusenka. I will put moonshine on the table, even give it to me.

– — What’s with you now? I asked, a man who saw pigs only at the zoo, but for some reason they are called hippos.

– — As?

– — Dras!! What brought with you?? I repeated in a voice.

– — I will give you some pork … – without hearing or not understanding my question, the old one answered.

– — She, along the way, fly agaric gluttonous.. – I suggested, in front of my comrades.

– -Where do you live? – asked a friend

– — And you come to the village and ask Yadu, our streets are dumb.

– — What? Arsenic, or what? I shouted into her ear, like into a microphone.

– — No, my dear! Hehe.. Ask Yad Vigu!!

– — And when to come? – asked the comrade.

– — And at the weekend, at noon! I won’t just feed him. – answered the grandmother and went to collect spiky green bushes.

Finishing up, I asked a colleague.

– — Comrade, did you slaughter pigs?

– -Sure. I lived in a collective farm city.

Sunday has arrived. We escaped into an AWOL through the far corner of the fence.

We reached the village without any problems and it was not difficult for us to find her hut, especially since there were only five houses in the village, and a hostel with migrant workers, sawmills. Come means to her. And she and breadcrumbs, and salt, and even the goofer found. We ate natural food and drank more.

– — Well, old woman? – comrade began. – where is the pig?

– — Yes, he is a pig, beloved in the barn. she answered and went into the room. He takes out a half-meter bundle. It unfolds and draws a sword of the fifth century BC, apparently from the age of. Rusty, rusty and handle wrapped in electrical tape.

– — Here, sons, this is my late Joseph, back in World War I Grant. When at a meat factory, he occupied and cut everyone: even cows and chicken.

I felt uneasy looking at her Stakhanovsky, transparent look. A friend took the knife from the hands of the mistress…

– — Come on, tell me. – Where did it flock, A?

She turns us into the barn.

– — There, – says, – My beloved Borusenka.

Honestly, I look at this Borusenka and my eyes are behind my ears.

His corral was shot down from boards with slits two by three. And from the crevice slots the folds and the rod hangs in elastic. Apparently this is the piglet Boryushishche half of life and does not lie.

– — Oh, my dears, I’ll go to the hut. – sobbed grandmother, covering his toothless mouth with the corners of a scarf. – And you are more careful with the boryusenka. I’m the only one from my relatives. There is no one else, I take care of him from birth. Goodbye, my yachting cattle. Yyyyyyy!! – the old woman sobbed and immediately stopped sobbing in one fell swoop, changing her voice from squeaky to bass. – And do not forget, lads, I have it for sale…

– — Everything will be screaming, granny!!! – Comrade encouraged and turned to me. – And you, my friend, help me out, open the gate.

I stealthily approached and turned the turntable, the gate growled, and the pig did not even move his ear. Kicks bastard. Well, my friend didn’t get confused right away, and with all his might, how he cuts a pig in a nickel, dagged halfway and climbed. A nickel, the size of a plate. After a few seconds, the pig opened his right eye, and then the left. Then a squeal followed, and a “mammoth” named Fighting jumped on his hooves sticking out of his stomach, his legs were not observed.

Squinting with both eyes at the dagger, then straightening the blue blond pupils in different directions, the pig turned its gaze to the comrade. After she squinted her eyes again on the handle of the dagger, moved her with a nickle: up, down; up, down, aligned sighting gaze on a comrade and jerked away, so much so that the entire corral just crumbled into a mass of chips. Fresh manure sprinkled from under his feet and covered up a couple of chicken muzzles, knocking them off a crow, which curiously stared at what was happening. The comrade was already rushing towards the garden, through the economic babkin’s yard.