I got myself a man (friend's story). About how a man did hair removal. (text from the Internet)

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“After being told that my balls resembled the appearance of an old Rastafarian, I decided to take the plunge and buy this gel, because previous attempts at shaving were not very successful, and besides, I almost killed my back trying to reach especially hard to reach places.

I'm a bit of a romantic, so I decided to do this for my wife's birthday - like another gift. I ordered it in advance. Since I work on the North Sea, I considered myself a tough guy and thought that previous reviews were written

some pathetic office rats... oh my fellow sufferers, how wrong I was. I waited until my other half went to bed and, hinting at a special surprise, I went to the toilet. At first everything went fine. I applied the gel to the desired areas and waited. And he waited very quickly. At first I felt a warmth, which after a few seconds was replaced by a strong burning sensation and a feeling that I can only compare to the feeling when they sharply pull barbed wire panties on you, trying to throw you up to the ceiling. Until this evening, I was not too religious, but at that moment I could believe in any god, if only he would save me from the terrible burning around the shithole and the complete destruction of the sausage and two eggs. Trying not to bite through my lower lip, I tried to rinse off the gel in the sink, but all I could do was get a clump of hair into the hole. Through a curtain of tears, I got out of the toilet and went to the kitchen. I could no longer walk in the kitchen, so I crawled the last meters to the refrigerator. Having rolled out the bottom chamber of the refrigerator, I found a tub of ice cream there, tore off the lid and stuck it under me. The relief was fantastic, but short-lived because the ice cream was fast

melted, and the hellish burning returned. - The bath was quite small, so I couldn’t help the ass hole. I began to rummage through the box, hoping to find at least something - there were already so many tears in my eyes that I could see little. I grabbed the bag, which I later learned contained frozen bean sprouts, and tore it open, trying to do it as quietly as possible. I grabbed a few sprouts and had no luck

tried to squeeze them between his buttocks. This did not help - the gel, along the way, penetrated into the rectum, and now it seemed to be working there

jet engine. I hope I never dream of having a gay snowman in the kitchen again - do you understand how low I was willing to stoop to relieve the pain? The only solution that my pain-crazed brain came up with was to carefully push one sprout into a place where no other plant had sprouted before. Unfortunately, after hearing strange groans from the kitchen, my wife decided to get up and find out what was going on. She was greeted by a stunning sight: I was lying on the floor, with strawberry ice cream dripping from my ass, and stuffing beans into myself with the words “Oh, how good.” This undoubtedly shocked her and she screamed in horror. I didn’t hear her come in, so I got scared myself, a spasm squeezed my guts, and the sprout flew out in her direction at considerable speed. Yes, I understand that a bean sprout being farted in her direction at twelve at night is not quite the surprise she was counting on, and the next day the children had to explain for a long time what happened to the ice cream... in general, thanks to Veet you can lose not only body hair, but also dignity and self-respect))

I got myself a man. For the first time in my life. All my friends already had them, but I somehow managed. No, of course, I had male acquaintances at different times, but they all existed outside the confines of my apartment, appearing in it only occasionally.

But then one day...

In the morning I went into the toilet and saw that the toilet seat was up. Thus began a new era of my life. A man moved into the house. Although at first I thought it wouldn’t take root: they’re capricious...

First of all, he said that since we decided to live together, then using a condom is now simply inhumane. True, he did not specify in relation to whom. Three options suggested themselves. The beloved seemed to be interested only in him. This didn't suit me. I accused him of being selfish and careless. He advised me to buy a vibrator. I reminded you that we live in the era of AIDS. He said he's not like that. I twirled my finger at my temple. He stuffed the ties into his suitcase. I smiled wryly. He slammed the door. I dyed my hair.

He opened it with his key.

I barely made it before the pharmacy closed. Here,” he held out a thin package.
- Were you a redhead?..

So we started living together. Returning home in the evening, I was no longer afraid if I saw light in my own windows. And she no longer said into the telephone receiver: “You are in the wrong place” if someone said his name. On top of that, my pillow smelled like his cologne. The lover snored at night, pulled the blanket over himself - the blanket fell to the floor. Neither to himself, nor to people... He read Marinina in the toilet, and then shouted into the crack:

Paper!
- Tear out the first chapter! And so that I don’t see this rubbish in the house anymore!..
And while visiting, he quoted Kant. And every day he stepped on the cat’s tail and every day assured him that it was an accident. He taught me how to navigate by the stars, and took me away from my friends’ houses. For some reason he gave me an inflatable boat, he was shy in front of my mother:

Svetlana Alekseevna...
“Svetlana Alexandrovna,” my mother frowned once again.

He woke me up at night with kisses, while washing his face, he snorted. He splattered the bathroom mirror with toothpaste and gave me strawberries in the winter. In short, he was irresistible.
A stereo system and dumbbells appeared in my house. Music sounded from morning to evening. The dumbbells were inactive. When vacuuming the carpet, I had to move them from place to place each time. Guests kept bumping into them.

Neighbor Katya said that “these pieces of iron” spoil the aesthetic appearance of the living room. Unable to bear it, I suggested putting this phallic symbol in the closet.

The beloved was inflamed with righteous anger. He reminded me that a healthy mind can only exist in a healthy body. And in general, it turns out that he has already looked at a suitable barbell at Sporting Goods.

The biceps need to be pumped up... - he told me confidentially.

But now I always had shaving foam on hand. In addition, I could fully participate in my friends’ conversations on the topic “And mine was yesterday”:

A) played until the morning computer games,
b) lay under the car all day,
c) ate a week's supply of cutlets,
d) broke a cup and replaced a burnt out light bulb,
d) smoked in the toilet again,
f) said that TV series are dumbing down,
g) I watched boxing all evening,
h) hid my phone book,
and)...a bastard and a bloodsucker.

In short, living together with a man brought a lot of discoveries. Pleasant and not very pleasant.

The first discovery: he exists.
Discovery two: he was constantly hungry!

Coffee and tangerine for breakfast did not suit him. Products that I previously hated appeared in the house: butter, lard, sugar, vodka, pasta.

The mayonnaise rating has skyrocketed. I began to pay attention to culinary recipes in women's magazines. And the eternal question “What to cook for dinner?” tormented me worse than Hamlet's. I was furious. I fryed, boiled, grated and tasted something non-stop. I gained three kilos.

The beloved was well-fed, cheerful and always ready to eat. When he says “We have something delicious”? climbed into the refrigerator five minutes after lunch, I wanted to kick him from behind! And slam the door. I began to dream that packages with the inscription: “Men’s food. 10 kg” would appear on store shelves.

I bought it and the day is free...

Discovery three: he was hiding his socks.

I hope it's not from me. The fact that he wore them, of course, was no secret to me. The light of my eyes never wrapped footcloths around his feet or walked barefoot. He enjoyed the textile and hosiery benefits of civilization, but...

Coming home from work, the first thing he did was look for more secluded places and there, like a chipmunk hiding his stash, he hid them, having previously rolled them up in the form of compact squiggles. And no amount of suggestion could force him to take these “snails” even to the bathroom. With manic persistence, my man parked socks under the sofa, under the armchair and, it seemed, was ready to tear off the baseboards in order to bury his treasures there.

Discovery four: he made a will every time he had a toothache or a runny nose. He moaned and groaned like a wounded buffalo. He gasped at the word “clinic” and cried out for my mercy.

He demanded to finish him off in order to save him from inhuman suffering. Holding my hand, he nobly advised me to paint the old Opel before selling it. And, like a real man, holding back his sobs on his deathbed, he said goodbye to the things dear to his heart: music discs, mobile phone and the Sport Express newspaper.

Fifth discovery: he knew how to remain silent.
He could sit in front of the TV screen all evening and not utter a word. Give him free rein - he, who knows two languages ​​and has higher education, would limit communication with me to three phrases: " Good morning, dear”, “What are we having for dinner, my love?” and “Come to me...”

To be fair, it should be noted that his communications with his mother or telephone conversations with friends were also not particularly eloquent. And his relationship with best friend were based on watching football matches together and making succinct comments:

Pass! Pass, I said!.. Well, you little shit!.. Vit, give me a beer...

Discovery sixth: knowing how to remain silent, he could not stand silence.

I still haven’t solved this paradox. Not only did he touch the stereo more often than he touched me, he almost never left the TV, switching channels at the speed of light. From start to finish, my beloved only watched news and sports programs. The rest of the time he clicked the remote control. The pictures on the TV flashed like in an eerie kaleidoscope. I felt dizzy. And God forbid you get on the line between him and the TV. A sharp diplomatic demarche immediately followed:

Get off the screen!

Discovery seventh: he jealously guarded his territory.

His possessions were considered: a place at the table - one, and a favorite chair - two.
Even guests could not sit on his stool in the kitchen. And the poor cat flew out of the soft chair like a bullet, barely hearing the familiar heavy tread.

I didn't break any boundaries. Women's intuition told me that it was better not to encroach on the man's throne, his sacred mug and sovereign slippers. But you can hide the hated dumbbells. Or even sell them for scrap metal - my precious athlete is unlikely to notice the loss.

Opening eight: supervision and control.

Who were you talking to on the phone?.. Who is this bespectacled guy in the photo?.. Where were you from four to five?.. Where did you get these earrings?..

With a friend. My brother. At the hairdresser's. You gave...

Discovery ninth: I could no longer lie for hours in a fragrant bath.

My ninety-kilogram bunny tried to break into the room. Then he urgently needed a toothbrush. Then there was an urgent need to inspect the leaking faucet for two months. Then he was interested in whether he would fit next to me and how much water our bodies would displace according to Archimedes’ law. Either he was simply bored alone, and he whined under the door, appealing to my conscience:

I suffer from lack of communication!
But as soon as I left, the sufferer immediately returned contentedly to his chair.

Hey, what about Archimedes' law? - I asked.

“I’ll take a shower,” the darling said and buried his nose in the newspaper.

Discovery tenth: his stubble was growing.

She grew up, of course, even before our, let’s say old-fashioned, cohabitation. But before, my hero came to dates clean-shaven, and now I watched him almost around the clock... The skin on my face began to peel off.

Discovery eleventh: he didn’t remember our holiday dates!!!

At all. Amnesia. Selective memory lapses. He remembered the day of the storming of the Bastille, the day of the technical inspection and the day of his own leaving for the army, but the date of my birth could not take hold in any of his hemispheres.

However, he would have missed even New Year, if not for the widespread excitement.

Women with Christmas trees appeared on the streets. It’s time to buy champagne, he drew thoughtful conclusions.

Discovery twelfth: it turned out to be terribly impractical.

He didn't know how to plan our budget. When he left to get food, he brought back five bottles of beer, a bag of chips and a glass of ice cream. I was embarrassed to take change. I didn’t know how to bargain in the market. He bought everything that cunning grannies sold him. And one day he brought roses instead of potatoes. I just sighed.

“I love you,” he said, holding out the flowers.

Discovery twelfth and a half: he loves me...

In general, life with a man is like a game of chess. A continuous blitz with not entirely clear rules.

That's not how a horse walks.

Silly... How do you think the horse walks?

The letter "Ge"...

Let the neighbor walk with the letter “Ge”. And I'll go like this...

Since when are these new rules?

Since last minute... I said. Go, my love...

At the pharmacy, a man asked for a package of condoms.
- What size?
- Oh, I don't know. I didn't even realize they were sold by size.
- Then go behind the screen, there you will see a board with holes, similar to the one used to determine the sizes of screws and screwdrivers - and try it on...
A few minutes later a man comes out from behind the screen and says:
- I changed my mind. Please sell me that board.

Sweeps, cleans, polishes his car. Before leaving, he vacuums all the upholstery in the cabin, seats, pillars, ceiling, and everything in the trunk. But he doesn’t like to drive and gets nervous on crowded streets, especially when looking for parking. But, nevertheless, he likes to sit in the car in front of his house or in front of the garage. He hates passengers, even his relatives - because they cause so much dirt, dust, and scratches! In winter, when the windows fog up, he requires them not to breathe at all, or to breathe in turns!

It mocks all road users - both pedestrians and cars...

DAY 1. Spent it! (I wanted to insert an emoticon at this point, but I don’t know where to look for it on the keyboard - I’ve never experienced such strong joys before.) Hello, freedom! The shirts are washed and ironed, the refrigerator is full of food, and somehow I’ll water the flowers myself. Okay, I don’t have time to keep all sorts of diaries here - I have to run for beer.

DAY 2. Received an SMS: “Flew normally, the weather is great, the hotel is gorgeous.” Is she kidding me? It’s okay, of course, we don’t have a resort here, but we can live.

DAY 3. I think I screwed up. The guys at work called me for a drink, I said I can’t - I need a dog...

1. When dressing, girls will first put on their bottoms, then their tops. Boys usually do the opposite.

2. Boys take off their T-shirt by grabbing it on the back with their hand and pulling it over their head. Girls, undressing, take off their blouse with both hands, pulling it up.

3. When yawning, boys cover their mouths with their fists, girls with their palms.

4. When turning around when called, girls turn only their heads, boys turn their bodies, because their necks are not so flexible.

5.Girls breathe through their chest; in boys, the abdominal muscles are involved in breathing.

6. Girls try to go up or down the mountain sideways. Boys are just wider...

In our ugly modern society, everything has long been confused. And even if in the Russian language there is no normal-sounding phonetically equivalent to the word “maniac” in the feminine gender, this does not mean that you are safe from the insidious woman lying in wait for you in a dark alley.

So it happened. She caught up with you in the elevator and pressed stop. She dragged you into her car when you were late returning from work in your frivolous dokha. She jumped out of the harmless bushes in the evening park, and before you had time to come to your senses, a huge knife was already sparkling ominously at your throat. What to do? Main...

clearly an incomplete collection of girls’ statuses from “classmates” dedicated to men... it’s like, Mikhalych...

Men are like mice. It seems like you’re looking at a nice, fluffy animal,
and as soon as it gets going in the house, you immediately want to poison it...

Men are like seeds, you “gnaw them, chew them” and then one
you come across a rotten one, the aftertaste of which has to be eaten away by others for a long time...

If a man thinks that he changes women like gloves. . He's delusional
- he just walks from hand to hand!

A man must help a woman to be weak; she can become strong without his help.

A man is a creature capable...

1. Your telephone conversation lasts 30 seconds.
2. Women are much more often shown naked in films.
3. One suitcase is enough for a week's vacation.
4. The queue for the toilet is 80% shorter.
6. You can open all the bottles yourself.
7. Old friends don't care about changes in your weight.
8. The shape of your butt has no bearing on employment.
10. All your orgasms are real.
11. You don’t have to always carry a whole bag of essential items with you.
12. The garage and the TV remote control are yours and only yours.
13. You don't need to shave anything below your neck.
14. If you...

List from the women's magazine LQ, compiled by its readers

1. Don’t be silent if you’ve prepared something delicious. Eat in silence if it doesn't taste good.
2. Don't knock on my bathroom door. I `ll exit...
3. Bring marshmallows at night if I feel like it.
4. Don’t pretend that the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink came from the neighbors.
5. Throw away your holey socks/underwear. Even the most beloved and comfortable ones.
6. Bring to orgasm.
7. Know and love to cook meat.
8. Dance. At least a little. At least when we're both drunk
9. Be able to communicate with children of any age.
10. Intercede if someone is rude/harassing someone weaker...

The footman at the Moscow Slavic Bazaar Hotel, Nikolai Chikildeev, fell ill. His legs became numb and his gait changed, so that one day, while walking along the corridor, he tripped and fell along with a tray on which there was ham and peas. I had to leave the place. What money he had, his and his wife’s, he treated, there was nothing left to feed himself, he became bored with nothing to do, and he decided that he must go to his home, to the village. It’s easier to get sick at home and it’s cheaper to live; and it’s not without reason that they say: walls at home help.

He arrived in his Zhukovo in the evening. In his childhood memories, his native nest seemed to him bright, cozy, comfortable, but now, entering the hut, he was even frightened: it was so dark, cramped and unclean. His wife Olga and daughter Sasha, who arrived with him, looked with bewilderment at the large, untidy stove that occupied almost half the hut, dark with soot and flies. How many flies! The stove was askew, the logs in the walls lay crooked, and it seemed that the hut would fall apart right now. In the front corner, near the icons, bottle labels and scraps were pasted newsprint- this is instead of paintings. Poverty, poverty! None of the adults were at home, everyone was busy. A girl of about eight years old was sitting on the stove, white-haired, unwashed, indifferent; she didn't even look at those who entered. Below, a white cat was rubbing against the stag.

- Kitty Kitty! – Sasha beckoned to her. - Kiss!

“She can’t hear us,” said the girl. - She became deaf.

- From what?

- So. Beaten up.

Nikolai and Olga understood at first glance what life was like here, but did not say anything to each other; silently they dumped the bundles and went out into the street in silence. Their hut was the third on the edge and seemed the poorest, the oldest in appearance; the second is no better, but the last one has an iron roof and curtains on the windows. This hut, unfenced, stood alone and had a tavern in it. The huts were in a single row, and the whole village, quiet and thoughtful, with willows, elderberries and rowan trees looking out from the courtyards, had a pleasant appearance.

Behind the peasant estates there began a descent to the river, steep and precipitous, so that huge stones were exposed here and there in the clay. Along the slope, near these stones and pits dug by potters, paths wound, whole heaps of shards of broken dishes, sometimes brown, sometimes red, were piled up, and there below lay a wide, flat, bright green meadow, already mown, on which the peasants were now walking. herd. The river was a mile from the village, winding, with wonderful curly banks, behind it again a wide meadow, a herd, long lines of white geese, then, just like on this side, a steep climb up the mountain, and above, on the mountain, a village with a five-domed church and a little further away the manor house.

- It's good to be here! - Olga said, crossing herself in the church. - Expanse, Lord!

Just at this time they called for the all-night vigil (it was Sunday eve). Two little girls, who were carrying a bucket of water below, looked back at the church to listen to the ringing.

“At this time there are dinners at the Slavic Bazaar...” Nikolai said dreamily.

Sitting on the edge of the cliff, Nikolai and Olga saw how the sun set, how the sky, golden and crimson, was reflected in the river, in the windows of the temple and in all the air, tender, calm, inexpressibly pure, which never happens in Moscow. And when the sun set, a herd passed by bleating and roaring, geese flew in from the other side - and everything fell silent, the quiet light went out in the air and evening darkness began to quickly approach.

Meanwhile, the old men returned, Nikolai’s father and mother, skinny, hunched over, toothless, both of the same height. The women, daughters-in-law Marya and Fyokla, who worked across the river for the landowner, also came. Marya, the wife of brother Kiryak, had six children, Thekla, the wife of brother Denis, who went to war, had two; and when Nikolai, entering the hut, saw the whole family, all these large and small bodies that were moving on the floors, in cradles and in all corners, and when he saw with what greed the old man and the women ate black bread, dipping it in water, then I realized that it was in vain that he came here, sick, without money, and even with his family - in vain!

-Where is brother Kiryak? – he asked when they said hello.

“He lives as a guard for a merchant,” the father answered, “in the forest.” The guy would be fine, but it floods a lot.

- Not a prey! - the old woman said tearfully. “Our men are bitter, they carry things not into the house, but out of the house.” Kiryak drinks, and so does the old man, to be honest, he knows the way to the tavern. The queen of heaven was angry.

A samovar was set out for the guests on the occasion. The tea smelled of fish, the sugar was chewed and gray, cockroaches scurried about the bread and dishes; it was disgusting to drink, and the conversation was disgusting - everything was about poverty and illness. But before they even had time to drink a cup, a loud, drawn-out drunken cry came from the yard:

- Ma-arya!

“It looks like Kiryak is coming,” said the old man, “he’s easy to find.”

Everyone became quiet. And a little later, again the same cry, rough and drawn-out, as if from underground:

- Ma-arya!

Marya, the eldest daughter-in-law, turned pale, pressed herself against the stove, and it was somehow strange to see an expression of fear on the face of this broad-shouldered, strong, ugly woman. Her daughter, the same girl who had sat there all night and seemed indifferent, suddenly began to cry loudly.

-What are you doing, cholera? - Fekla, a beautiful woman, also strong and broad in the shoulders, shouted at her. - I bet it won’t kill you!

From the old man, Nikolai learned that Marya was afraid to live in the forest with Kiryak and that when he was drunk, he came for her every time and at the same time made noise and beat her without mercy.

- Ma-arya! – there was a cry right at the door.

“Stand up for Christ’s sake, dear ones,” Marya babbled, breathing as if she had been dipped into very cold water, “intercede, dear ones...”

All the children, how many of them there were in the hut, began to cry, and, looking at them, Sasha also began to cry. A drunken cough was heard, and a tall black-bearded man in a winter hat entered the hut and, because his face was not visible in the dim light of the light bulb, looked scary. It was Kiryak. Approaching his wife, he swung his fist and hit her in the face, but she did not make a sound, stunned by the blow, and only sat down, and immediately blood began to flow from her nose.

“What a shame, what a shame,” muttered the old man, climbing onto the stove, “in front of guests!” What a sin!

And the old woman sat silently, hunched over, and thought about something; Thekla was rocking the cradle... Apparently, recognizing himself as scary and pleased with this, Kiryak grabbed Marya by the hand, dragged her to the door and growled like an animal to seem even more terrible, but at that time he suddenly saw the guests and stopped.

“Ah, we’ve arrived...” he said, releasing his wife. - My brother and family...

He prayed to the image, staggering, opening his drunken, red eyes wide, and continued:

– My brother and his family came to their parents’ house... from Moscow, that is. The Mother See, which means the city of Moscow, the mother of cities... Sorry...

He sat down on the bench near the samovar and began to drink tea, loudly slurping from the saucer, in general silence... He drank ten cups, then leaned on the bench and began to snore.

They began to go to bed. Nicholas, as if he were sick, was laid on the stove with the old man; Sasha lay down on the floor, and Olga went with the women to the barn.

“And-and, killer whale,” she said, lying down on the hay next to Marya, “you can’t help your grief with tears!” Be patient and that's it. The scripture says: if anyone hits you on the right cheek, offer him your left... And-and, killer whale!

“And in Moscow there are big, stone houses,” she said, “there are many, many churches, forty forty, a killer whale, and in the houses all are gentlemen, so beautiful, and so decent!”

Marya said that she had never been not only to Moscow, but even to her district town; she was illiterate, did not know any prayers, did not even know the “Our Father.” She and the other daughter-in-law, Thekla, who was now sitting at a distance and listening, were both extremely undeveloped and could not understand anything. Both did not love their husbands; Marya was afraid of Kiryak, and when he stayed with her, she shook with fear and burned out every time near him, since he smelled strongly of vodka and tobacco. And Thekla, when asked if she was bored without her husband, answered with annoyance:

- Come on!

We talked and fell silent...

It was cool, and near the barn a rooster crowed at the top of his lungs, making it difficult to sleep. When the bluish morning light was already breaking through all the cracks, Thekla slowly got up and went out, and then you could hear her running somewhere, her bare feet clattering.

II

Olga went to church and took Marya with her. As they walked down the path to the meadow, they were both having fun. Olga liked the expanse, and Marya felt in her daughter-in-law a close, dear person. The sun was rising. A sleepy hawk hovered low over the meadow, the river was cloudy, there was fog here and there, but on the other side of the mountain there was already a streak of light, the church was shining, and the rooks were screaming furiously in the master’s garden.

“The old man is okay,” said Marya, “but the grandmother is strict, she fights everything.” We have enough bread until Pancake Day, we buy flour at the tavern - well, she gets angry; He says you eat a lot.

- E-and, killer whale! Be patient and that's it. It is said: come, all you who labor and are heavy laden.

Olga spoke sedately, in a singsong voice, and her gait was like that of a praying mantis, fast and fussy. She read the Gospel every day, read it aloud, in the deacon’s style, and did not understand much, but the holy words touched her to tears, and she uttered such words as “asche” and “dondezhe” with a sweet sinking heart. She believed in God, in the Mother of God, in saints; believed that one should not offend anyone in the world - neither ordinary people, nor Germans, nor gypsies, nor Jews, and that woe to even those who do not spare animals: she believed that it was written so in the holy books, and therefore, when she uttered words from scriptures, even incomprehensible ones, then her face became pitiful, tender and bright.

-Where are you from? – Marya asked.

- I am from Vladimir. But I was taken to Moscow a long time ago, when I was eight years old.

We approached the river. On the other side, near the water, a woman stood and undressed.

“This is our Thekla,” Marya learned, “she went across the river to the manor’s yard.” To the clerks. Naughty and abusive - passion!

Thekla, black-browed, with flowing hair, young and strong, like a girl, rushed from the shore and pounded the water with her feet, and waves came in all directions from her.

– Mischievous passion! - Marya repeated.

Across the river were rickety log lavas, and just below them, in the clear, clear water, were schools of broad-headed chub. Dew sparkled on the green bushes that looked into the water. There was a feeling of warmth and a feeling of joy. What a wonderful morning! And, probably, what a wonderful life in this world would be if it weren’t for need, terrible, hopeless need, from which you can’t hide anywhere! Now one only had to look back at the village, how vividly everything from yesterday was remembered - and the charm of happiness that seemed to be around disappeared in an instant.

We came to church. Marya stopped at the entrance and did not dare to go further. And she didn’t dare sit down, although the announcement for mass was announced only at nine o’clock. She stood there the whole time.

When the Gospel was read, the people suddenly moved, making way for the landowner's family; Two girls in white dresses and wide-brimmed hats entered, and with them a plump, pink boy in a sailor suit. Their appearance touched Olga; At first glance she decided that these were decent, educated and beautiful people. Marya looked at them from under her brows, sullenly, sadly, as if it were not people who had entered, but monsters who could crush her if she had not stepped aside.

And when the deacon exclaimed something in a bass voice, she always imagined a cry: “Ma-arya!” – and she shuddered.

III

The village learned about the arrival of guests, and after the mass a lot of people gathered in the hut. The Leonychevs, the Matveichevs, and the Ilyichovs came to find out about their relatives who served in Moscow. All the Zhukovsky children who knew how to read and write were taken to Moscow and given there only to be waiters and bellhops (as from the village on the other side, they were given only to bakers), and this happened a long time ago, back in serfdom, when some Luka Ivanovich, a Zhukovsky peasant, now legendary, who served as a barman in one of the Moscow clubs, accepted only his fellow countrymen into his service, and these, when they entered into force, wrote out their relatives and assigned them to taverns and restaurants; and from that time on, the village of Zhukovo was no longer called otherwise by the surrounding residents, like Khamskaya or Kholuevka. Nicholas was taken to Moscow when he was eleven years old, and his place was assigned by Ivan Makarych, from the Matveichev family, who then served as a steward in the Hermitage garden. And now, turning to the Matveichevs, Nikolai spoke instructively:

“Ivan Makarych is my benefactor, and I am obliged to pray to God for him day and night, since through him I became a good person.”

“My father,” said the tall old woman, Ivan Makarych’s sister, tearfully, “and you don’t hear anything about them, my dear.”

- In winter he served with Omon, and this season, there was a rumor, somewhere outside the city, in the gardens... He has aged! Previously, it happened that in the summer I would bring home ten rubles a day, but now things have become quiet everywhere, the old man is toiling.

The old women and women looked at Nikolai’s feet, shod in felt boots, and at his pale face and said sadly:

- You’re not a spoiler, Nikolai Osipych, you’re not a catcher! Where else!

And everyone caressed Sasha. She was already ten years old, but she was small in stature, very thin, and in appearance she could have been about seven years old, no more. Among the other girls, sunburnt, badly shorn, dressed in long faded shirts, she, white, with large, dark eyes, with a red ribbon in her hair, seemed funny, as if she were an animal that had been caught in the field and brought to the hut.

The Gospel was old, heavy, bound in leather, with curled edges, and it smelled as if monks had entered a hut. Sasha raised her eyebrows and began loudly, in a sing-song voice:

- “And when they had gone away, behold, an angel of the Lord... appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying: “The boy and his mother rose up and gave water...”

“The boy and his mother,” Olga repeated and became all flushed with excitement.

- “And run to Egypt... and be there, until the river reaches the river...”

At the word “dondezhe” Olga could not resist and began to cry. Looking at her, Marya sobbed, then Ivan Makarych’s sister. The old man coughed and fussed around to give his granddaughter a gift, but found nothing and only waved his hand. And when the reading was over, the neighbors went home, touched and very pleased with Olga and Sasha.

On the occasion of the holiday, the family stayed at home all day. The old woman, whom her husband, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren all called grandma, tried to do everything herself; she lit the stove and set the samovar herself, she even went to midday and then grumbled that she was tortured by work. And she kept worrying that someone might eat an extra piece, that the old man and his daughters-in-law might be without work. Then she heard the innkeeper's geese walking backwards into her garden, and she ran out of the hut with a long stick and then screamed shrilly for half an hour near her cabbage, flabby and skinny like herself; then it seemed to her that a crow was approaching the chickens, and she rushed at the crow with abuse. She was angry and grumbled from morning to evening and often raised such a cry that passers-by stopped on the street.

She did not treat her old man kindly, calling him either a lazybones or a cholera. He was an unfounded, unreliable man, and, perhaps, if she had not constantly urged him, he would not have worked at all, but would only have sat on the stove and talked. He talked to his son for a long time about some of his enemies, complained about the insults that he supposedly suffered every day from his neighbors, and it was boring to listen to him.

“Yes,” he said, holding his sides. - Yes... After the Exaltation, a week later I sold the hay for thirty kopecks per pood, voluntarily... Yes... Good... Only this means that I carry the hay in the morning voluntarily, I don’t bother anyone; At an unkind hour, I see the headman, Antip Sedelnikov, coming out of the tavern. “Where are you taking, so-and-so?” - and hit me in the ear.

And Kiryak had a painful headache from a hangover, and he was ashamed in front of his brother.

- Vodka does something. Oh, my God! - he muttered, shaking his aching head. - Forgive me, brother and sister, for Christ’s sake, I’m not happy myself.

On the occasion of the holiday, we bought herring at the tavern and cooked stew from the herring head. At noon, everyone sat down to drink tea and drank it for a long time, until they sweated, and seemed to be swollen from the tea, and after that they began to eat the stew, all from one pot. And the grandmother hid the herring.

In the evening, a potter was burning pots on the cliff. Below in the meadow the girls danced and sang. They played the harmonica. And on the side beyond the river, one stove was also burning and the girls were singing, and from a distance this singing seemed harmonious and gentle. The men were making noise in and around the tavern; they sang in drunken voices, all apart, and cursed so much that Olga only shuddered and said:

- Oh, fathers!..

She was surprised that the swearing was heard continuously and that the loudest and longest swearing was done by the old people, for whom it was time to die. And the children and girls listened to this abuse and were not at all embarrassed, and it was clear that they had become accustomed to it from the cradle.

Midnight had passed, the stoves here and on the other side had already gone out, and below in the meadow and in the inn they were still walking. The old man and Kiryak, drunk, holding hands, pushing each other with their shoulders, approached the barn where Olga and Marya were lying.

“Leave it,” the old man urged, “leave it... She’s a quiet woman... It’s a sin...

- Ma-arya! – Kiryak shouted.

- Leave it... Sin... She's a woman, nothing.

Both stood for a minute near the barn and then walked away.

- I love the flowers of the field! – the old man suddenly sang in a high, piercing tenor. - Collect liu-eblu from the meadows!

Then he spat, swore badly and went into the hut.

IV

The grandmother placed Sasha near her garden and ordered her to guard so that the geese did not enter. It was a hot August day. The innkeeper's geese could have made their way to the garden with their backs, but they were now busy with work, picking up oats near the inn, talking peacefully, and only the gander raised his head high, as if wanting to see if the old woman was coming with a stick; other geese might have come from below, but these were now grazing far beyond the river, stretching across the meadow in a long white garland. Sasha stood for a while, got bored and, seeing that the geese weren’t coming, walked away to the cliff.

There she saw eldest daughter Marya, Motka, who stood motionless on a huge stone and looked at the church. Marya gave birth thirteen times, but she only had six left, all girls, not a single boy, and the eldest was eight years old. Motka, barefoot, in a long shirt, stood in the hot sun, the sun was burning right on her crown, but she did not notice it and seemed to be petrified. Sasha stood next to her and said, looking at the church:

- God lives in the church. People have lamps and candles burning, but God’s lamps are red, green, and blue, like little eyes. At night, God walks around the church, and with him the Most Holy Theotokos and St. Nicholas the saint - stupid, stupid, stupid... And the watchman is scared, scared! “And-and, killer whale,” she added, imitating her mother. “And when there is a light show, all the churches will be taken to heaven.”

- With ko-lo-ko-la-mi? – Motka asked in a bass voice, stretching out each syllable.

- With bells. And when the light show, the good will go to heaven, and the angry will burn in fire forever and inextinguishably, killer whale. God will tell my mother and also Marya: you didn’t offend anyone and for this you go to the right, to heaven; and he will say to Kiryak and the grandmother: you go to the left, into the fire. And whoever ate the meat was also thrown into the fire.

She looked up at the sky, her eyes wide open, and said:

– Look at the sky, don’t blink, you can see angels.

Motka also began to look at the sky, and a minute passed in silence.

- Do you see? – asked Sasha.

“I can’t see,” Motka said in a deep voice.

- But I see. Little angels fly across the sky and their wings flicker, flicker, like mosquitoes.

Motka thought for a moment, looking at the ground, and asked:

- Will grandma burn?

- It will, killer whale.

From the stone to the very bottom there was a smooth, sloping slope, covered with soft green grass, which you wanted to touch with your hand or lie on it. Sasha lay down and rolled down. Motka with a serious, stern face, puffing, also lay down and rolled off, and at the same time her shirt rode up to her shoulders.

- How funny it made me! – Sasha said in delight.

They both went upstairs to slide down again, but at that time a familiar shrill voice was heard. Oh, how terrible this is! Grandmother, toothless, bony, hunchbacked, with short gray hair which were fluttering in the wind, she used a long stick to drive the geese away from the garden and shouted:

“They crushed all the cabbage, the accursed ones, to chop you up, thrice anathema, ulcers, there is no death for you!”

She saw the girls, threw down the stick, picked up a twig and, grabbing Sasha by the neck with fingers as dry and hard as flyers, began to whip her. Sasha was crying from pain and fear, and at this time the gander, waddling from one foot to the other and stretching his neck, approached the old woman and hissed something, and when he returned to his herd, all the geese approvingly greeted him: go-go- go! Then the grandmother began to whip Motka, and at the same time Motka’s shirt lifted up again. Feeling despair, crying loudly, Sasha went to the hut to complain; Motka followed her, who also cried, but in a deep voice, without wiping her tears, and her face was already so wet, as if she had dipped it in water.

- My fathers! – Olga was amazed when they both entered the hut. - Queen of Heaven!

Sasha began to tell the story, and at that time the grandmother came in with a shrill scream and curses, Thekla got angry, and the hut became noisy.

- Nothing, nothing! – Olga consoled, pale, upset, stroking Sasha’s head. “She’s a grandmother, it’s a shame to be angry with her.” It's okay, baby.

Nikolai, who was already exhausted by this constant screaming, hunger, fumes, stench, who already hated and despised poverty, who was ashamed in front of his wife and daughter for his father and mother, dangled his legs from the stove and spoke irritably, in a crying voice, turning to his mother :

-You can't hit her! You have no absolute right to hit her!

- Well, you’ll die there on the stove, you cold one! - Thekla shouted at him angrily. “It was not easy that brought you here, you parasites.”

And Sasha, and Motka, and all the girls, how many there were, huddled in a corner on the stove, behind Nikolai, and from there they listened to all this in silence, with fear, and you could hear their little hearts beating. When there is a patient in the family who has been ill for a long time and hopelessly, then there are such difficult moments when all those close to him timidly, secretly, in the depths of their souls, wish for his death; and only some children are afraid of the death of a loved one and always feel horror at the thought of it. And now the girls, holding their breath, with a sad expression on their faces, looked at Nikolai and thought that he would soon die, and they wanted to cry and tell him something affectionate, pitiful.

He pressed himself close to Olga, as if seeking her protection, and spoke to her quietly, in a trembling voice:

- Olya, honey, I can’t stay here anymore. My strength is gone. For the sake of God, for the sake of heavenly Christ, write to your sister Claudia Abramovna, let her sell and pawn everything she has, let her send money, we will leave here. Oh, Lord,” he continued with longing, “if only I could take a look at Moscow with one eye!” If only I dreamed of her, mother!

And when evening came and it got dark in the hut, it became so sad that it was difficult to utter a word. The angry grandmother soaked rye crusts in a cup and sucked on them for a long time, for an hour. Marya, having milked the cow, brought a bucket of milk and placed it on the bench; then the grandmother poured it from the bucket into the jugs, also for a long time, slowly, apparently pleased that now, on the Dormition Fast, no one would eat the milk and it would all remain intact. And only a little, just a little, she poured into a saucer for the child Thekla. When she and Marya carried the jugs to the cellar, Motka suddenly perked up, crawled off the stove and, going up to the bench where there was a wooden cup with crusts, splashed milk from the saucer into it.

The grandmother, having returned to the hut, began again to eat her crusts, and Sasha and Motka, sitting on the stove, looked at her, and they were pleased that she had become short-lived and now would probably go to hell. They were comforted and went to bed, and Sasha, falling asleep, imagined a terrible judgment: a large stove was burning, like a pottery stove, and an unclean spirit with horns like a cow, all black, was driving the grandmother into the fire with a long stick, just as she herself had driven geese earlier.

V

At the Assumption, at eleven o'clock in the evening, the girls and boys who were walking below in the meadow suddenly started screaming and screaming and ran towards the village; and those who were sitting above, on the edge of the cliff, at first could not understand why this was happening.

- Fire! Fire! – a desperate cry was heard below. - We're burning!

Those who were sitting above looked around, and a terrible, extraordinary picture presented itself to them. On one of the outer huts, on a thatched roof, there stood a fiery pillar, a fathom high, which swirled and threw sparks from itself in all directions, as if a fountain was gushing. And immediately the whole roof caught fire with a bright flame and the crackling of fire was heard.

The light of the moon faded, and the entire village was already engulfed in a red, trembling light; Black shadows walked along the ground, there was a smell of burning; and those who were running from below were all out of breath, could not speak from trembling, pushed, fell and, being unaccustomed to the bright light, saw poorly and did not recognize each other. It was scary. What was especially scary was that pigeons were flying above the fire, in the smoke, and in the tavern, where they still did not know about the fire, they continued to sing and play the harmonica as if nothing had happened.

- Uncle Semyon is on fire! - someone shouted in a loud, rough voice.

Marya rushed about her hut, crying, wringing her hands, chattering her teeth, although the fire was far away, on the other side; Nikolai came out in felt boots, children in shirts ran out. Near the ten's hut they hammered into a cast iron board. Bem, bem, bem... it rushed through the air, and this frequent, restless ringing made my heart ache and made me feel cold. Old women stood with images. Sheep, calves and cows were driven out of the courtyards into the street, and chests, sheepskins, and tubs were taken out. The black stallion, who was not allowed into the herd because he kicked and wounded the horses, was set free, trampling, neighing, ran through the village once and twice and suddenly stopped near the cart and began to beat it with his hind legs.

They also rang on the other side, in the church.

Near the burning hut it was hot and so light that every grass on the ground was clearly visible. On one of the chests that they managed to pull out, sat Semyon, a red-haired man with a big nose, in a cap pulled down over his head, down to his ears, in a jacket; his wife lay face down, unconscious, and moaning. An old man of about eighty, short, with a big beard, looking like a gnome, not from here, but obviously involved in the fire, walked nearby, without a hat, with a white bundle in his hands; there was fire in his bald head. The elder, Antip Sedelnikov, dark and black-haired, like a gypsy, approached the hut with an ax and knocked out the windows, one after another - for no one knows why, then began to chop down the porch.

- Women, water! - he shouted. - Give me the car! Turn around!

The same men who had just been walking in the tavern were dragging a fire truck. They were all drunk, tripping and falling, and they all had helpless expressions and tears in their eyes.

- Girls, water! - shouted the headman, also drunk. - Turn around, girls!

Women and girls ran down to where the key was, and carried full buckets and tubs up the mountain and, having poured it into the car, ran away again. Olga, Marya, Sasha, and Motka carried water. Women and boys pumped the water, the intestine hissed, and the headman, directing it first at the door, then at the windows, held back the stream with his finger, causing it to hiss even more sharply.

- Well done, Antip! - Approving voices were heard. - Try!

And Antipus climbed into the hallway, into the fire and shouted from there:

- Rock it! Work hard, Orthodox Christians, on the occasion of such an unfortunate incident!

The men stood in a crowd nearby, doing nothing, and looking at the fire. No one knew what to do, no one knew how to do anything, and all around there were stacks of bread, hay, barns, heaps of dry brushwood. Standing here were Kiryak and old Osip, his father, both tipsy. And, as if wanting to justify his idleness, the old man said, turning to the woman lying on the ground:

- Why, godfather, beat yourself up! The hut is fined - what do you care about!

Semyon, turning first to one and then to the other, told why it caught fire:

- This same old man, with the bundle, was General Zhukov’s servant... Our general, the kingdom of heaven, was one of his cooks. He comes in the evening: “Let him go, he says, let’s spend the night”... Well, we drank a glass, as you know... The woman came by the samovar to give the old man some tea, but at the wrong hour she brought the samovar into the entryway, the fire came from the chimney, which means it went straight into the roof, into the straw , that's it. They almost burned themselves out. And the old man’s hat burned, such a sin.

And they beat the cast-iron board tirelessly and often rang the bell in churches across the river. Olga, all in the light, gasping, looking with horror at the red sheep and pink doves flying in the smoke, ran up and down. It seemed to her that this ringing like a sharp thorn entered her soul, that the fire would never end, that Sasha was lost... And when the ceiling collapsed noisily in the hut, then from the thought that now the whole village would certainly burn, she became weak and could no longer carry water, and sat on a cliff, placing buckets near her; Women sat next to and below and wailed as if for a dead man.

But from the other side, from the manor’s estate, clerks and workers arrived on two carts and brought with them a fire truck. A student arrived on horseback in an open white jacket, very young. They clattered with axes, put a ladder up to the burning log house, and five people climbed up it at once, and in front of everyone was a student who was red-faced and shouted in a sharp, hoarse voice and in such a tone, as if putting out fires was a familiar thing for him. They dismantled the hut into logs; They took away the barn, the fence and the nearest haystack.

- Don't let's break it! – stern voices were heard in the crowd. - Do not give!

Kiryak headed towards the hut with a determined look, as if wanting to stop the visitors from breaking, but one of the workers turned him back and hit him in the neck. Laughter was heard, the worker struck again, Kiryak fell and crawled back into the crowd on all fours.

Two came from the other side beautiful girls in hats - must be the student's sisters. They stood at a distance and looked at the fire. The pulled logs no longer burned, but smoked heavily; the student, working with his gut, directed the stream first at these logs, then at the men, then at the women carrying water.

- Georges! – the girls shouted to him reproachfully and with alarm. - Georges!

The fire is over. And only when they began to disperse did they notice that it was already dawn, that everyone was pale, a little dark - it always seems so in the early mornings, when the last stars in the sky are extinguished. As they dispersed, the men laughed and made fun of General Zhukov’s cook and his hat, which had burned; they already wanted to play the fire as a joke and seemed to even be sorry that the fire ended so soon.

“You stewed it well, master,” Olga said to the student. – You should come to us, to Moscow: there is a fire there, almost every day.

– Are you from Moscow? – asked one of the young ladies.

- Exactly. My husband served in the “Slavic Bazaar”, sir. And this is my daughter,” she pointed to Sasha, who was cold and huddled close to her. - Also Moscow, sir.

Both young ladies said something in French to the student, and he handed Sasha two kopecks. Old Osip saw this, and hope suddenly lit up on his face.

“Thank God, your honor, there was no wind,” he said, turning to the student, “otherwise they would have burned overnight.” “Your Honor, good gentlemen,” he added embarrassedly, in a lower tone, “the dawn is cold, I would like to warm myself up... with half a bottle of your grace.”

They didn't give him anything, and he grunted and trudged home. Olga then stood on the edge and watched as both carts forded the river, as gentlemen walked through the meadow; a crew was waiting for them on the other side. And when she arrived at the hut, she told her husband with admiration:

- Yes, they are so good! Yes, so beautiful! And the young ladies are like cherubs.

- May they be torn apart! - said the sleepy Thekla with anger.

VI

Marya considered herself unhappy and said that she really wanted to die; Thekla, on the contrary, liked this whole life: poverty, uncleanliness, and restless abuse. She ate what was given without discerning; I slept wherever and on whatever I had to; she poured out the slop right next to the porch: she would splash it from the threshold and even walk with her bare feet in a puddle. And from the very first day she hated Olga and Nikolai precisely because they did not like this life.

“I’ll see what you’ll eat here, Moscow nobles!” - she said with gloating. - I'll take a look!

One morning - it was already at the beginning of September - Thekla brought two buckets of water from below, pink from the cold, healthy, beautiful; at this time Marya and Olga were sitting at the table and drinking tea.

- Tea and sugar! - Thekla said mockingly. “What ladies,” she added, putting down the buckets, “they have adopted the fashion of drinking tea every day.” Just look, the tea wouldn't make you bloated! - she continued, looking at Olga with hatred. – I worked up a plump face in Moscow, fat meat!

She swung the yoke and hit Olga on the shoulder, so that both daughters-in-law just clasped their hands and said:

- Oh, fathers.

Then Thekla went to the river to wash her clothes and scolded so loudly all the way that she could be heard in the hut.

Day passed. A long autumn evening has arrived. They were winding silk in the hut; Everyone was shaking except Fekla: she went across the river. The silk was taken from a nearby factory, and the whole family earned little from it - twenty kopecks a week.

“It was better under the gentlemen,” said the old man, unwinding the silk. – And you work, and eat, and sleep, everything as usual. For lunch you have cabbage soup and porridge, for dinner you also have cabbage soup and porridge. There were plenty of cucumbers and cabbage: eat voluntarily as much as your heart desires. And there was more strictness. Everyone remembered himself.

There was only one light bulb, which burned dimly and smoked. When someone blocked the light bulb and a large shadow fell on the window, bright moonlight was visible. Old Osip told, slowly, about how they lived until they were free, how in these very places, where life is now so boring and poor, they hunted with hounds, with greyhounds, with Pskov dogs, and during raids they gave the men vodka, like in Moscow There were whole convoys with beaten poultry for the young masters, as the wicked were punished with rods or exiled to the Tver estate, and the good were rewarded. And the grandmother also told me something. She remembered everything, absolutely everything. She told about her mistress, a kind, God-fearing woman, whose husband was a debauchee and a libertine, and whose daughters all got married God knows how: one married a drunkard, the other a tradesman, the third was taken away secretly (the grandmother herself, who was then a girl, helped take them away), and they all soon died of grief, like their mother. And remembering this, the grandmother even cried.

Suddenly someone knocked on the door and everyone jumped.

- Uncle Osip, let me spend the night!

A little bald old man came in, General Zhukov’s cook, the same one whose hat had burned. He sat down, listened and also began to remember and tell different stories. Nikolai, sitting on the stove, dangling his legs, listened and asked everything about the dishes that were prepared under the gentlemen. They talked about meatballs, cutlets, various soups, sauces, and the cook, who also remembered everything well, named dishes that do not exist now; There was, for example, a dish that was prepared from bull's eyes and was called “waking up in the morning.”

-Did they make marechal cutlets back then? – Nikolai asked.

Nikolai shook his head reproachfully and said:

- Oh, you unfortunate cooks!

The girls, sitting and lying on the stove, looked down without blinking; it seemed that there were a lot of them - like cherubs in the clouds. They liked the stories; they sighed, shuddered and turned pale, sometimes with delight, sometimes with fear, and they listened to the grandmother, who told the most interesting story of all, without breathing, afraid to move.

They went to bed in silence; and the old people, disturbed by the stories, excited, thought about how good youth is, after which, no matter what it was, only living, joyful, touching remains in the memories, and how terrible, cold this death, which is not far off, - It’s better not to think about her! The light went out. And the darkness, and the two windows, sharply illuminated by the moon, and the silence, and the creaking of the cradle for some reason only reminded that life had already passed, that there was no way to return it... You take a nap, forget yourself, and suddenly someone touches your shoulder, blows on the cheek - and there is no sleep, the body is as if it had been lying down, and all the thoughts of death creep into my head; turned on the other side - I had already forgotten about death, but old, boring, tedious thoughts about need, about food, about the fact that flour had risen in price wandered through my head, and a little later I remembered again that life had already passed, you can’t bring it back...

- Oh my God! – the cook sighed.

Someone knocked quietly on the window. Thekla must have returned. Olga stood up and, yawning and whispering a prayer, unlocked the door, then in the hallway she pulled out the bolt. But no one came in, only a cold breath came from the street and it suddenly became light from the moon. Through the open door one could see the street, quiet, deserted, and the moon itself, which floated across the sky.

- Who is here? – Olga called out.

“I am,” came the answer. - It's me.

Near the door, pressed against the wall, stood Thekla, completely naked. She was shivering from the cold, her teeth were chattering, and in the bright moonlight she seemed very pale, beautiful and strange. The shadows on her and the shine of the moon on her skin somehow stood out sharply, and her dark eyebrows and young, strong breasts were especially clearly visible.

“On the other side, the mischievous people stripped them and let them in like that...” she said. “I went home without clothes... what my mother gave birth in.” Bring me to get dressed.

- Go to the hut! – Olga said quietly, also starting to tremble.

“The old people wouldn’t have seen it.”

In fact, the grandmother was already worried and grumbling, and the old man asked: “Who is there?” Olga brought her shirt and skirt, dressed Fyokla, and then both quietly, trying not to knock on the doors, entered the hut.

- Is that you, smooth one? – the grandmother grumbled angrily, guessing who it was. - Damn you, Midnight Office... there is no death for you!

“Nothing, nothing,” Olga whispered, wrapping Fyokla, “nothing, killer whale.”

It became quiet again. They always slept poorly in the hut; Everyone was prevented from sleeping by something persistent, annoying: the old man - back pain, the grandmother - worries and anger, Marya - fear, the children - scabies and hunger. And now the dream was also disturbing: they turned from side to side, became delirious, got up to drink.

- Oh my God! – the cook sighed.

Looking at the windows, it was difficult to understand whether the moon was still shining or whether it was already dawn. Marya got up and went out, and you could hear her milking a cow in the yard and saying: “Whoa-oh!” Grandma also came out. It was still dark in the hut, but all the objects were already visible.

Nikolai, who had not slept all night, climbed down from the stove. He took his tailcoat out of the green chest, put it on and, going to the window, stroked the sleeves, held the tails - and smiled. Then he carefully took off his tailcoat, hid it in the chest and lay down again.

Marya returned and began to light the stove. She, apparently, had not yet fully woken up from sleep and was now waking up as she walked. She probably dreamed something or yesterday’s stories came to mind, because she stretched sweetly in front of the stove and said:

- No, will is better!

VII

The master arrived - that’s what the police officer was called in the village. It was known a week in advance when and why he would arrive. There were only forty households in Zhukov, but arrears, state and zemstvo, accumulated more than two thousand.

Stanovoy stopped at a tavern; he “ate” two glasses of tea here and then went on foot to the headman’s hut, near which a crowd of debtors was already waiting. Headman Antip Sedelnikov, despite his youth - he was only a little over 30 years old - was strict and always sided with his superiors, although he himself was poor and paid taxes incorrectly. Apparently, he was amused by the fact that he was the headman, and liked the consciousness of power, which he could not otherwise show except by severity. At the gathering they feared and obeyed him; it happened that on the street or near a tavern he would suddenly run into a drunken man, tie his hands back and put him in a prison cell; Once he even put a grandmother in prison because, when she came to the gathering instead of Osip, she began to swear, and he kept her there for a whole day. He did not live in the city and never read books, but from somewhere he picked up various clever words and loved to use them in conversation, and for this he was respected, although he was not always understood.

When Osip entered the headman’s hut with his quitrent book, the guard, a thin old man with long gray whiskers, in a gray jacket, was sitting at a table in the front corner and writing something down. The hut was clean, all the walls were full of pictures cut out from magazines, and in the most prominent place near the icons hung a portrait of Battenberg, the former Bulgarian prince. Antip Sedelnikov stood near the table, arms crossed.

“For him, your honor, 119 rubles,” he said when it was Osip’s turn. - Before the Saint I gave a ruble, and since then not a penny.

The bailiff looked up at Osip and asked:

- Why is this, brother?

- Show divine mercy, your honor,

- Osip began, worried, - may I say, the Lutorets master in the summer: “Osip, he says, sell the hay... You, he says, sell it.” Why? I had a hundred pounds to sell, the women made it look shiny... Well, we made a deal... Everything is fine, voluntarily...

He complained about the headman and every now and then turned to the peasants, as if inviting them to be witnesses; his face became red and sweaty, and his eyes became sharp and angry.

“I don’t understand why you’re saying all this,” said the bailiff. “I’m asking you... I’m asking you, why don’t you pay the arrears?” You still don’t pay, and I’m responsible for you?

- There’s no urine!

“These words have no consequences, your honor,” said the headman. – Indeed, the Chikildeevs are not of sufficient class, but if you please ask the others, the whole reason is vodka, and they are very mischievous. Without any understanding.

The bailiff wrote down something and said to Osip calmly, in an even tone, as if asking for water:

- Go away.

Soon he left; and when he sat down in his cheap carriage and coughed, even from the expression of his long, thin back it was clear that he no longer remembered either Osip, or the headman, or Zhukov’s arrears, but was thinking about something of his own. Before he had even driven a mile, Antip Sedelnikov was already carrying a samovar out of the Chikildeevs’ hut, and a grandmother was following him and screaming shrilly, straining her chest:

- Will not give it back! I won’t give it to you, damned one!

He walked quickly, taking long steps, and she chased after him, out of breath, almost falling, hunchbacked, ferocious; her scarf slipped over her shoulders, her gray hair with a greenish tint fluttered in the wind. She suddenly stopped and, like a real rebel, began beating herself on the chest with her fists and shouting even louder, in a sing-song voice, and as if sobbing:

– Orthodox, who believe in God! Fathers, you offended me! Dear ones, they've crowded us out! Oh, oh, my dears, stand up!

“Grandma, grandma,” the headman said sternly, “have some sense in your head!”

Without a samovar, the Chikildeevs’ hut became completely boring. There was something humiliating in this deprivation, insulting, as if the hut had suddenly been deprived of its honor. It would be better if the headman took and carried away the table, all the benches, all the pots - it wouldn’t seem so empty. The grandmother screamed, Marya cried, and the girls, looking at her, also cried. The old man, feeling guilty, sat in the corner dejectedly and silent. And Nikolai was silent. The grandmother loved and pitied him, but now she forgot her pity and suddenly attacked him with abuse and reproaches, jabbing her fists right in his face. She screamed that it was all his fault; in fact, why did he send so little when he himself boasted in his letters that he earned 50 rubles a month in the Slavic Bazaar? Why did he come here, especially with his family? If he dies, then what money will be used to bury him?.. And it was a pity to look at Nikolai, Olga and Sasha.

The old man grunted, took his hat and went to the headman. It was already getting dark. Antip Sedelnikov was soldering something near the stove, puffing out his cheeks; it was crazy. His children, skinny, unwashed, no better than Chikildeev’s, were fidgeting on the floor; ugly, freckled wife with big belly reeled silk. It was an unhappy, wretched family, and only Antip looked young and handsome. There were five samovars in a row on the bench. The old man prayed for Battenberg and said:

- Antip, show God's mercy, give back the samovar! For Christ's sake!

- Bring three rubles, then you will get it.

- There’s no urine!

Antip puffed out his cheeks, the fire hummed and hissed, shining in the samovars. The old man wrinkled his hat and said, thinking:

The dark-skinned elder seemed completely black and looked like a sorcerer; he turned to Osip and said sternly and quickly:

“Everything depends on the zemstvo chief.” At the administrative meeting on the twenty-sixth, you can state the reason for your displeasure verbally or on paper.

Osip did not understand anything, but was satisfied with this and went home.

Ten days later the policeman came again, stayed for an hour and left. In those days the weather was windy and cold; The river had long since frozen, but there was still no snow, and people were tormented without a road. One day before evening on a holiday, neighbors came to Osip to sit and talk. They spoke in the dark, since it was a sin to work and they didn’t light a fire. There was some news, quite unpleasant. So, in two or three houses, chickens were taken away for arrears and sent to the volost government, and there they killed, since no one fed them; They took the sheep and, while they were transporting them, tied up, transferring them to new carts in each village, one died. And now they were deciding the question: who is to blame?

- Zemstvo! - said Osip. - Who!

- It is known, zemstvo.

The zemstvo was accused of everything - arrears, oppression, and crop failures, although no one knew what zemstvo meant. And this started from the time when rich men, who had their own factories, shops and inns, visited the zemstvo councils, became dissatisfied and then began to abuse the zemstvo in their factories and taverns.

We talked about how God doesn’t give us snow: we have to carry firewood, but we can’t drive or walk over the bumps. Before, 15 - 20 years ago and earlier, conversations in Zhukov were much more interesting. Then every old man looked as if he was keeping some secret, knew something and was waiting for something; they talked about a charter with a golden seal, about divisions, about new lands, about treasures, they hinted at something; Now the Zhukovites had no secrets, their whole life was in full view, in plain sight, and they could only talk about need and food, about the fact that there was no snow...

We were silent. And again they remembered about chickens and sheep, and began to decide who was to blame.

- Zemstvo! - Osip said sadly. - Who!

VIII

The parish church was six miles away, in Kosogorovo, and people visited it only when needed, when it was necessary to baptize, get married, or have a funeral service; They went across the river to pray. On holidays, in good weather, the girls dressed up and left in a crowd for mass, and it was fun to watch how they walked across the meadow in their red, yellow and green dresses; in bad weather everyone stayed at home. They celebrated in the parish. From those who did not have time to respond during Lent, the priest, walking around the huts with a cross, took 15 kopecks on Holy Day.

The old man did not believe in God because he almost never thought about him; he recognized the supernatural, but thought that this could only concern women, and when they talked in his presence about religion or the miraculous and asked him some question, he said reluctantly, scratching himself:

- Who knows!

Grandma believed, but somehow dimly; everything was jumbled up in her memory, and as soon as she began to think about sins, about death, about the salvation of her soul, how need and worries intercepted her thoughts, and she immediately forgot what she was thinking about. She did not remember the prayers and usually in the evenings, when she went to bed, she stood in front of the images and whispered:

- Kazan Mother of God, Smolensk Mother of God, Three-Handed Mother of God...

Marya and Thekla were baptized, fasted every year, but did not understand anything. The children were not taught to pray, they were not told anything about God, they were not taught any rules, and they were only forbidden to eat fasting foods. In other families it was almost the same: few believed, few understood. At the same time, everyone loved the Holy Scriptures, they loved tenderly, reverently, but there were no books, there was no one to read or explain, and because Olga sometimes read the Gospel, she was respected and everyone said “you” to her and Sasha.

Olga often went to church holidays and prayer services in neighboring villages and in the district town, which had two monasteries and twenty-seven churches. She was absent-minded and, while she went on pilgrimage, completely forgot about her family, and only when she returned home did she suddenly make the joyful discovery that she had a husband and daughter, and then she said, smiling and beaming:

- God sent mercy!

What was happening in the village seemed disgusting to her and tormented her. They drank on Elijah, they drank on the Assumption, they drank on the Exaltation. On Pokrov there was a parish holiday in Zhukov, and the men drank for three days on this occasion; They drank 50 rubles of public money and then collected more from all the yards for vodka. On the first day, the Chikildeevs slaughtered a sheep and ate it in the morning, at lunch and in the evening, they ate a lot, and then at night the children got up to eat. Kiryak was terribly drunk all three days, drank everything, even his hat and boots, and beat Marya so much that she was doused with water. And then everyone was ashamed and sick.

However, in Zhukov, in this Kholuevka, a real religious celebration took place. This was in August, when the Life-Giving One was carried throughout the entire district, from village to village. On the day they expected her in Zhukov, it was quiet and cloudy. Early in the morning the girls set out to meet the icon in their bright elegant dresses and they brought it in the evening, with a procession of the cross, with singing, and at that time they rang the bells across the river. A huge crowd of friends and strangers blocked the street; noise, dust, crush... And the old man, and the grandmother, and Kiryak - all stretched out their hands to the icon, looked at it greedily and said, crying:

- Intercessor, mother! Intercessor!

It was as if everyone suddenly realized that there was something between earth and heaven, that not everything had been captured by the rich and powerful, that there was still protection from insults, from slave bondage, from grave, unbearable need, from terrible vodka.

- Intercessor, mother! - Marya sobbed. - Mother!

But they served a prayer service, took away the icon, and everything went as before, and again rude, drunken voices were heard from the tavern.

Only rich men were afraid of death, who, the more rich they became, the less they believed in God and in the salvation of their souls, and only out of fear of the end of the earth, just in case, they lit candles and served prayer services. The poorer men were not afraid of death. The old man and the grandmother were told straight to their faces that they had healed, that it was time for them to die, and they didn’t mind. They did not hesitate to say in the presence of Nikolai Fekle that when Nikolai died, her husband, Denis, would get a benefit - they would be returned home from service. And Marya not only was not afraid of death, but even regretted that it had not come for so long, and was glad when her children died.

They were not afraid of death, but they treated all diseases with exaggerated fear. It was enough to have a trifle - an upset stomach, a slight chill, but the grandmother would already lie down on the stove, wrap herself up and begin to moan loudly and continuously: “I’m dying!” The old man hurried after the priest, and the grandmother was given communion and unction. Very often they talked about colds, about worms, about nodules that move in the stomach and roll up to the heart. Most of all they were afraid of colds and therefore, even in the summer, they dressed warmly and warmed themselves on the stove. Grandma loved to be treated and often went to the hospital, where she said that she was not 70, but 58 years old; she believed that if the doctor found out her real age, he would not treat her and would say that she should die rather than be treated. She usually left for the hospital early in the morning, taking two or three girls with her, and returned in the evening, hungry and angry, with drops for herself and ointments for the girls. Once she also took Nikolai, who then took drops for two weeks and said that he felt better.

Grandma knew all the doctors, paramedics and healers for thirty miles around, and she didn’t like any of them. On Pokrov, when the priest walked around the hut with the cross, the sexton told her that in the city near the prison there lived an old man, a former military paramedic, who treated very well, and advised her to turn to him. Grandma obeyed. When the first snow fell, she went to the city and brought an old man, a bearded, long-haired cross, whose whole face was covered with blue veins. Just at this time, day laborers were working in the hut: an old tailor with scary glasses was cutting a vest from rags, and two young guys were felting felt boots from wool; Kiryak, who had been fired for drunkenness and now lived at home, sat next to the tailor and repaired the clamp. And the hut was cramped, stuffy and stinking. Vykrest examined Nikolai and said that it was necessary to supply the cans.

He put the jars, and the old tailor, Kiryak and the girls stood and watched, and it seemed to them that they saw how the disease was leaving Nikolai. And Nikolai also watched as the jars, sucked to his chest, were little by little filled with dark blood, and felt that something really seemed to be coming out of him, and he smiled with pleasure.

“It’s good,” said the tailor. - God grant that it will be useful.

Cross put twelve cans and then twelve more, drank some tea and left. Nikolai began to tremble; his face became haggard and, as the women said, clenched into a fist; fingers turned blue. He wrapped himself in a blanket and a sheepskin coat, but it was getting colder. By evening he felt sad; he asked to be laid on the floor, asked that the tailor not smoke, then he calmed down under the sheepskin coat and died by morning.

IX

Oh, what a harsh, what a long winter!

Since Christmas there was no bread of our own and we bought flour. Kiryak, who now lived at home, made noise in the evenings, terrifying everyone, and in the mornings he suffered from headaches and shame, and it was a pity to look at him. In the barn, day and night, the mooing of a hungry cow could be heard, tearing the souls of the grandmother and Marya. And, as luck would have it, the frosts were bitter all the time, high snowdrifts piled up; and the winter dragged on: a real winter blizzard blew in on Annunciation, and snow fell on Holy Day.

But, be that as it may, winter is over. At the beginning of April there were warm days and frosty nights, winter was not giving way, but one warm day finally overcame it - and the streams flowed and the birds began to sing. The entire meadow and bushes near the river drowned in the spring waters, and between Zhukov and the other side the entire space was already completely occupied by a huge bay, on which wild ducks fluttered here and there in flocks. The spring sunset, fiery, with lush clouds, every evening gave something extraordinary, new, incredible, exactly the same thing that you don’t believe later when you see the same colors and the same clouds in the picture.

The cranes flew quickly and quickly and screamed sadly, as if they were calling them to come with them. Standing on the edge of the cliff, Olga looked for a long time at the flood, at the sun, at the bright, as if rejuvenated church, and tears flowed from her and her breath was taken away because she passionately wanted to go somewhere where her eyes were looking, even to the ends of the world. And it was already decided that she would go back to Moscow, to become a maid, and Kiryak would go with her to work as a janitor or something. Oh, I wish I could leave soon!

When it dried out and became warm, we got ready to set off. Olga and Sasha, with knapsacks on their backs, both in bast shoes, came out at first light; Marya also came out to see them off. Kiryak was unwell and stayed at home for another week. Olga prayed for the last time in church, thinking about her husband, and did not cry, only her face wrinkled and became ugly, like an old woman’s. Over the winter she lost weight, became dull, turned a little grey, and instead of her former prettiness and pleasant smile, she had on her face a submissive, sad expression of the grief she had experienced, and there was already something dull and motionless in her gaze, as if she had not heard. She was sorry to leave the village and the men. She recalled how they carried Nicholas and ordered a memorial service near each hut and how everyone cried, sympathizing with her grief. During the summer and winter there were hours and days when it seemed that these people lived worse than cattle, it was scary to live with them; they are rude, dishonest, dirty, drunk, do not live in harmony, constantly quarrel because they do not respect, fear and suspect each other. Who runs the tavern and gets people drunk? Man. Who wastes and drinks away worldly, school, and church money? Man. Who stole from a neighbor, set it on fire, and falsely testified in court for a bottle of vodka? Who is the first to speak out against the peasants in zemstvo and other meetings? Man. Yes, it was scary to live with them, but still they are people, they suffer and cry like people, and there is nothing in their lives that cannot be justified. Hard work, from which the whole body hurts at night, cruel winters, meager harvests, cramped conditions, but there is no help and nowhere to wait for it. Those who are richer and stronger than them cannot help, since they themselves are rude, dishonest, drunk and they themselves scold just as disgustingly; the smallest official or clerk treats the peasants like tramps, and even says “you” to elders and church elders and thinks that he has the right to do so. And can there be any help or a good example from selfish, greedy, depraved, lazy people who come to the village only to insult, rob, and scare? Olga remembered what a pitiful, humiliated look the old people had when in the winter they took Kiryak to punish him with rods... And now she felt sorry for all these people, it hurt, and while she walked, she kept looking back at the huts.

Having walked about three miles, Marya said goodbye, then knelt down and began to wail, dropping her face to the ground:

“Again I’m left alone, my poor little head, my poor, unfortunate...

The sun rose high and it became hot. Zhukovo is left far behind. They were eager to go, Olga and Sasha soon forgot about both the village and Marya, they were having fun, and everything entertained them. Either a mound, or a row of telegraph poles, which one after another go to God knows where, disappearing on the horizon, and the wires hum mysteriously; then you can see a farm in the distance, all in greenery, sipping from it with moisture and hemp, and for some reason it seems that people live there happy people; then a horse skeleton, whitening alone in a field. And the larks cry restlessly, the quails call to each other; and the puller screams as if someone were actually pulling an old iron bracket.

At noon Olga and Sasha came to a large village. Here, on a wide street, they met General Zhukov’s cook, an old man. He was hot, and his sweaty, red bald head shone in the sun. He and Olga did not recognize each other, then they looked back at the same time, recognized each other and, without saying a word, went on each their own way. Stopping near the hut, which seemed richer and newer, in front of the open windows, Olga bowed and said in a loud, thin, melodious voice:

- Orthodox Christians, give alms for Christ's sake, that your mercy, to your parents the kingdom of heaven, eternal peace.

“Orthodox Christians,” Sasha sang, “for Christ’s sake, grant your mercy, the kingdom of heaven...”

“I once got poisoned from pasta. Pasta! It turned out that the young man decided that there was no need to wash the pan, and this would do, he could cook the pasta in the water from the dumplings. And he didn’t even notice that I thickly poured Fairy into the dumpling pan.”

— Washed my manured shoes with my Japanese super-soft face brush. He complained that it doesn't wash well. - And mine was cleaning a clogged sink with my eyebrow plucking tweezers. I thought I was going to kill you.

My father didn't know how to cook. At all. Only dumplings and scrambled eggs. One day I come home, my dad is watching TV, and something brownish is bubbling in a saucepan on the stove.
-Dad, what's there? - I ask.
“Yes, you know,” he answers, “so I wanted boiled potatoes.” So I decided to cook it.
— How long ago did you install it?
- Yes, about two hours.
- And what, it’s still not cooked?
- No.
- Why did you decide that?
- So she hasn’t surfaced yet!

I had a gorgeous silk bag. Roomy, but very beautiful. And then one day, when I was on a diet, my husband decided to feed me - I probably didn’t have the strength to look at the hungry girl. And he thought of putting a container of fried potatoes in my silk bag! Naturally, the container opened. The silk bag, and with it the passport, documents and cosmetic bag, came to an end. Everything was in oil.

Popular

“My grandfather never did anything around the house. Even obviously masculine tasks, such as nailing a shelf in the bathroom. One summer, the parents asked the grandmother to sit with her grandchildren at the dacha, everyone left, and the grandfather returned to the apartment once a week, checked that everything was in order and watered the flowers. Grandma had a lot of flowers, too many. And when at the end of summer my grandmother returned to the apartment, she discovered that my grandfather did not skimp and even watered artificial flowers.”

Couldn't find a turkey in the fridge to put in the oven for Thanksgiving. In a regular refrigerator. Twelve kilogram turkey.

“My husband was left alone, I left somewhere. The man is on top of you with the kitchen. I found a boiled egg in the refrigerator and decided to use it. But don’t eat it cold! Let me heat it up in the microwave, he thinks. I set it for 5 minutes. As a result, the entire kitchen, including the ceiling, was covered with an even layer of egg, which exploded after opening the door. Well, at least I washed the kitchen.”

I went out on business and left the bones to cook for broth. I tell my husband: at three o’clock you turn off the stove. At 15.10 a phone call with a report: the stove was turned off, the water was drained. To my clarifying question, “Why do you think I cooked the bones?” came the answer: “How do I know, maybe you eat them.”

In the third year of living with a dog, a young man calls me in a panic: “Anton Palych has acne! We need urgent treatment! Where to lead?!” Please send a photo. The photo shows a dog's belly and nipples on it. I write to him, they say, these are nipples, not acne! Next dialogue:
- What other nipples! He's a boy!
- Where did you get nipples on your chest? You are a boy too!
— (silence) Oh, exactly.

I was lying in the maternity hospital, and from all the rooms I could hear: “So, you go to the washing machine, you find a big white button...”

“In our family, through all the hardships, a hundred-year-old huge flower was passed down from generation to generation. This old man bloomed only twice in the entire hundred years, and family legends were made about this. And now it bloomed for the third time. Right before dad's eyes. And even on his vacation. Dad decided to do the flower good - replant it! He took a larger pot, filled it with soil... He took the flower out of the pot, took it to the bathroom, washed its roots there with Fairy and a brush, wiped it with a towel, planted the flower in a new pot and went about his business. In the bathroom, as usual, traces of this act of care remained. The returning mother, having discovered dirt in the bathroom, asked her husband how he managed to clean up such a mess in two hours while she was in the store. After the answer I had to solder it off with Corvalol. The flower died, of course, two days later...”