Women of inexorable age, etc. Alexander Tsypkin - About love. Stories and stories. About the book "Women of inexorable age and other unprincipled stories" Alexander Tsypkin

Title: Women of Inexorable Age and Other Unscrupulous Stories
Writer: Alexander Tsypkin
Year: 2018
Publisher: AST
Age limit: 16+
Volume: 140 pages
Genres: Humorous prose, Contemporary Russian literature

About the book "Women of inexorable age and other unprincipled stories" Alexander Tsypkin

Many people think that life is a rather boring thing. Work - home - work, and so on in a circle. But we just got used to not noticing many details, such as a funny situation in a store or even emotions after breaking up with a person we liked. All this makes our life unique, bright, full. But we are accustomed to paying attention only to the main thing, only to the important ...

Alexander Tsypkin created a masterpiece (and there is no other name for his book) about what life is. The collection “Women of Inexorable Age…” is a series of short stories and short stories about what surrounds us every day. You will not find twisted plots and unexpected endings. Although there will be plenty of surprises here. From emotions, you will laugh out loud, and then cry in the evening from another story with a sad ending.

A person remains a person until he unlearns to feel, to experience emotions. When you start mindlessly going to work, not paying attention to what is going on around you, you essentially begin to exist, not live. If you want to change your life a little, start reading this book. You will see that life is just all the unimportant things that we used to turn a blind eye to.

Alexander Tsypkin is an active blogger and journalist. He has a very good command of the word, so reading his work is doubly interesting. She is very piquant, impudent, sometimes foolish. This is what makes the book so fascinating.

The book "Women of Inexorable Age ..." by Alexander Tsypkin also includes excerpts from Twitter posts. The author collected all the best that, in his opinion, could create a complete picture of his life and world view. When you read, emotions begin to overwhelm and it is already impossible to stop, you want more and more.

Everything that is written in the collection, we can observe every day. But not everyone can correctly describe or tell it. And to spice it all up with subtle humor, and somewhere with irony, and somewhere with a drop of sadness ... This is how good works are created.

The work of Alexander Tsypkin will appeal to everyone without exception - both women and men, regardless of age. However, the book is still written on behalf of a man, so we see the image of a brutal, but with a sensual soul of a man who does not forget to look around and knows how to live for real. Read and enjoy every line, and you will definitely find a deep meaning in these funny words.

On our literary site, you can download the book by Alexander Tsypkin “Women of Inexorable Age and Other Unprincipled Stories” for free in formats suitable for different devices - epub, fb2, txt, rtf. Do you like to read books and always follow the release of new products? We have a large selection of books of various genres: classics, modern science fiction, literature on psychology and children's editions. In addition, we offer interesting and informative articles for beginner writers and all those who want to learn how to write beautifully. Each of our visitors will be able to find something useful and exciting.

Alexander Tsypkin

Women of inexorable age and other unprincipled stories

The short stories "Lie to Me If You Can", "New Year's Marriage", "Script for Porn Without a Happy End", "Millions of Geniuses" and "Judgment Over Inconvenient Condom Packaging" were first published in Cosmopolitan magazine.

* * *

Dedicated to me

Sex position comedy

wedding violence

"Tsypkin, I'm finished. I hit Katya at night, but I don’t really remember why or how, although it doesn’t matter anymore. She cries and says she can't leave her room with a black eye. Her dad will kill me, you saw him.”

This is the call I received from the hotel room where my friend spent his wedding night. The morning after the wedding is such an ordeal, but here it’s a nightmare. But first things first.

Gena was not going to marry, neither to Katya, nor in principle.

He was from an intelligent Petersburg family. All scientists, some are listed in the encyclopedia. Grandmother, of course, is Jewish. Not rich.

Katya came to St. Petersburg from Ryazan. In the family, all the military, even pets. Dad, of course, is a former paratrooper. Rich.

Gena saw a photograph of dad in the morning after, so to speak, unprotected intercourse and immediately understood everything. Grandmother taught Gena to look at the pedigree before the first date, because you never know how it could end, but Gena did not listen to his grandmother.

As a result, Katya suddenly became pregnant. The girl was lucky with the family of the father of the child, they were deeply decent people, so Gena was obliged to marry, although Katya was not immediately accepted as full-fledged relatives. This dichotomy, by the way, has led to divorce more than one couple of different classes, since feeling like a second-class woman who suddenly fell on her adored son or grandson is a dubious pleasure, especially if you seem to have been released from the zoo, but they still treat you like a talking badger. And if there are still differences in material status and representatives of the intelligentsia are much poorer, then the situation of a girl sometimes becomes completely unbearable. She is to blame for not being refined enough, and for being too rich.

But these were all possible details of the future. In the present, it was necessary to resolve the issue with the wedding. When counting the number of guests, it turned out that the forces are completely unequal. The intelligentsia fielded twelve people, mostly injured and with low motivation. There were as many as fifty-nine proletariat with merchants, gathered from all over the country, twenty-four of which Katya had never seen, and twenty-three she would never have wanted to see. All of them were eager to fight, more precisely, to St. Petersburg for the wedding of “our Katenka” with a man whose great-grandfather is mentioned in the Great Soviet Encyclopedia. In practice, the “talking dog”, you have to look, touch, not to mention testing it for strength, which my father’s friends in the Airborne Forces dreamed about. Gena's relatives, as is clear, did not want to see anyone at all, and especially not to hear.

The costs of this friendly match were covered by the visiting team.

A wedding can be summed up in one word: funeral. This word reflected the expression on the faces of the groom's team, the groom and the bride. I also wanted to bury the presenter, musicians and cooks. They forgot about the occasion itself as quickly as they forget about the deceased at the wake, when on the day of mourning almost drunken dances of guests from different sides of the deceased begin. Two hours after the start of the match, the referee lost control of the game and was removed from the field. The Russian wedding began, senseless and meaningless.

The bride's uncle, who arrived from Rostov-on-Don, started drinking back in Rostov-on-Don and succeeded so much that he forgot about his wife, although it was difficult to forget about such a bulky load, and tried to invite Genya's mother, who was frozen into a chair, to a slow dance, but the uncle was not embarrassed, and he raised her with him. To thunderous applause, the Kuban Cossack circled the chair with the half-dead teacher of the philological faculty around the hall and dropped them both practically into the cake.

The contests were so stupid and absurd that even the guests from Ryazan, who were not spoiled by animation (they were from Ryazan, but were from under), booed them and suggested that everyone start wearing their companions along with chairs, following the example of a Rostov comrade. Screeching, screaming and broken furniture.

Katya's mother, a simple, but kind and extremely well-mannered woman, sat down at the table with Genka's parents and encouraged: "Please be patient, I understand everything."

Then there was a funeral procession with unnecessary gifts and the necessary envelopes, then a requiem, ugh, a dance to the song “Because you can’t be so beautiful in the world” and finally throwing wreaths into the crowd of potential brides.

The wife of the Rostov dancer, offended by her husband's act, said that she would also catch a wreath, and, having crushed a couple of unmarried girls, she got a pass for the next marriage.

One of the guests approached Genka's grandmother with some absurd compliments and ended everything with a delightful phrase: "After all, there are good people among the Jews."

After that, my grandmother shared her fear with me: “Hmm, getting married is not so bad, it’s important how to get a divorce later, but here I’m afraid, if anything, the world won’t work out.”

Katya's father's friends put me and my fiancé at the table and began to pour vodka into our frail bodies, simultaneously teaching the groom the tricks of family life.

“Genka, you don’t let the woman loose! And remember, no one has yet died from a good bream, no, of course you can’t beat a woman, but you can prescribe a bream! - taught the life of my friend a man with a wrist the size of Genka's head.

The wedding thundered throughout the hotel, I tried to drag a lonely bridesmaid into a previously rented room, but she turned out to be a girl with principles, and I only managed to drag a bottle of whiskey. I fell asleep with her.

In the morning I was awakened by the sound of the above-mentioned call.

“Sanya, do, do what? Most importantly, I don’t understand why I did it like that, we fell asleep almost immediately, when did I have time? And you know me, I wouldn't hurt a fly, but Katya, she's so tender. Lord, how could I…”

“But Katya doesn’t remember?”

“Yes, she can still only mumble, she got into a full salad, although she sobered up a little, as if in a mirror, but when I hit her, she doesn’t remember, she only says that dad will kill me, and that she didn’t think that I was basically capable of raising a hand against a woman. I didn't think so either."

I note that Genka was the most decent among us. He treated everyone, even the most fleeting, acquaintances as best friends, always escorted home, sincerely cared, talked about girlish problems for hours, if they wanted it from him. In general, we were ashamed of ourselves in the rays of Genka's virtue. And then beat his wife. Although once I saw how his head flies off the coils, and then he was scary. I note that the incident occurred with the participation of alcohol.

Nevertheless, the problem had to be solved. My head was exploding and I asked the roomservice to bring me a bottle of beer. The waiter who came asked me:

“How is the bride, is she alive? She got it yesterday…”

I choked.

"In terms of?"

It turned out that my thirst for beer saved the cell of society and personally the newly-made husband. Gena and Katya, more precisely with Katya's body, went to sleep in their room. At the same time, the roomservice waiter carried the order to the next room and saw the following picture. The bride, more like a rolled carpet, was leaning against the wall, and Gena was trying to insert a card into the slot of the lock. When he succeeded, he opened the door to the room, took Katya in his arms, as a handsome prince usually does, and tried to bring the bride into the house. The dangling legs of the bride were beating against the left jamb of the door, and the lifeless head against the right. Gena was so pumped up with vodka that he could appreciate only one event: Katya didn’t enter the door, but he didn’t understand why this happened, and therefore he tried to bring it in like that three times (the last almost with a running start), until the waiter stopped him. Gena sent him, but listened and dragged the bride sideways.

I called Genya and told him everything, then grabbed the waiter in an armful and went to look for Katya's dad. He was found at breakfast sober, alert, and clean-shaven. Only with me, the former military man drank almost 0.7. Yes. Here is the hardening. After listening to the tragic story, he briefly and without unnecessary emotions put everything in its place: “It looks like a week in dark glasses, and everything is business, and the husband did a good job, he wanted to keep the tradition.”

In the evening, the newlyweds flew off on a trip, in all the photographs Katya was wearing huge sunglasses, and no one else found out about domestic violence. By the way, they never divorced, moreover, the grandmother took on the role of professor, and a year later Dullitl was unrecognizable. Even the fathers became friends, with the exception of one disagreement. The frail Genkin's father asks to send his grandson to the Ryazan Airborne Forces School, and the paratrooper lobbies St. Petersburg State University. Everyone takes out their complexes on children as best they can.

Maya Kucherskaya, Narine Abgaryan, Marina Stepnova, Team of authors, Alexander Tsypkin

Editorial

For about two years, the organizing committee of the "People's Book" project received letters from different countries for the competition of love stories. We read, discussed, argued, shared our impressions and comments with the authors, explained our understanding of the genre to them, published the best texts on the project website.

It was not easy to make a choice, almost all stories had their own merits. We settled on a few dozen texts that best match the concept of the competition.

And here is the book! It includes a variety of stories about love in all its forms. Not every love saga ends with a happy ending, and not every happy cloudless love ends with the horns of the wedding procession. Everything is much more complicated and unpredictable... This is what our esteemed authors told about.

They sent us stories about the vicissitudes of first love, about ordinary family happiness, about unexpected and irreparable losses, about anecdotal curiosities, about complicated love relationships - in a word, about all the vicissitudes of the most mysterious feeling - lying on the surface and reliably disguised.

We wish you happy reading!

Just together

Narine Abgaryan. Love

(from the collection of novels and short stories "Zulali")

Avakants Maro, tugging at the button of her jacket, swallowed her saliva loudly for the whole courtroom.

Behind her, nestling on a creaking bench in a fussy flock of sparrows, her neighbors Krnatanc Melanya, Vasilants Katinka and Makarants Sofa were whispering. Sometimes, without interrupting the whispering, Melanya and Sofa turned towards the defendant and cast a condemning glance at him. Katinka did not turn her head so as not to tear herself away from knitting, but every time her friends looked accusingly, she clicked her tongue in dismay. The defendant - a tall, gray-bearded and unexpectedly black-browed old man - twitched his shoulder and chuckled at every clatter. Hearing his chuckle, Maro swallowed loudly and fiddled with the button of her jacket more diligently.

The stenographer, a young twenty-year-old girl (Maro, squinting blindly, tried to make out whose blood she was, but then gave up - young people now comb their hair and make up so much that you can’t distinguish one from another), threading paper into a typewriter. The judge, closing his eyes, waited for her to finish.

“I’m ready,” the stenographer reported loudly. The judge grimaced and opened his eyes. Despite the open windows, the room was filled with an impossible stuffiness. October, although it let in generous colors and froze the morning dew, was not going to reduce the midday heat - at lunchtime the sun scorched as if outside the window it was not half autumn, but its very beginning.

“You may continue, plaintiff,” the judge allowed.

Maro clutched the button of her jacket now with both hands.

“Sorry, son… I forgot where I was staying,” she apologized.

The typist eagerly looked into the notes.

- ... hit with a ladle, - she prompted in a whisper.

Melanya and Sofa turned their heads, Katinka clicked her tongue, the defendant chuckled.

Maro tucked the torn button into her jacket pocket and grabbed another.

- Well, yes. Hit with a ladle. enamelled. Over the head. I usually boil eggs in this ladle, well, or there is millet for chickens ... a good ladle, indestructible. Serves faithfully for twenty years. I dropped it several times, and at least henna to him. It did not bend, and even the enamel did not peel off ...

"Don't get distracted, sir.

- Yeah. So. He hit me on the head with this ladle. Twice. Then he drove out of the house onto the veranda. There the peaches were dried, in slices, on trays. He grabbed one tray and threw it at me. Hit in the back, right here. Maro stroked her lower back. She sighed. - Dried fruits spoiled ...

The judge looked at the defendant. He sat with his hands folded on his knees, twisted by heavy rural labor. Despite his venerable age, he was of an impressive physique - portly, with broad shoulders and back, long arms and strong legs. His face was open and somehow very prepossessing: yellowish eyes faded from age, deep wrinkles, a crooked but beautifully molded nose, red tan marks in a gray beard - from tobacco. “But you can’t tell by his handsome appearance that he is capable of such a thing,” thought the judge. Considering his close but benevolent attention as support, the old man perked up, shrugged his shoulders and raised his index finger in a bewildering gesture - they say, look what he's doing! The judge hastily looked away and frowned.

“Then he pushed me down the stairs,” Maro continued.

- How did you get it down?

- Well, how ... He grabbed him by the collar and kicked him. Right here. She wanted to show where, but was embarrassed.

“Below the back,” said the judge.

- Yeah, below the back. Then he chased me around the yard with a broom until I ran out into the street.

Apparently, the old man's patience had run out. He chuckled loudly and stood up. A flock of sparrows on the back bench moved angrily, the typist's fingers froze over the keyboard.

- So, I not only drove her with a broom, but also beat her! – said the old man.

The judge straightened up.

- Respondent, you were not given the floor!

“Why give, I’ll tell you myself when I want to,” the old man was offended, trampled on the spot, lightly stepping over his worn boots, waved his hand and sat down.

“Go on,” said the judge to the plaintiff.

Maro tucked the second torn button into her pocket and clutched at the third.

“So you will be left without buttons,” the judge smiled.

- A? A!!! Nothing, I'll sew it later. When I'm worried, it's often like this ... That's why I sew the buttons weakly so as not to tear off the meat.

“By the way, didn’t I tear your meat with my teeth?” And then you never know, suddenly tore! the old man asked rustily.

The old man waved his hand at him - but wait, I'm talking to my wife!

“Seventy years old, and you’re lying like a juvenile fool!” Ugh! He spat angrily on the plank floor and carefully rubbed the spit with his boot.

The judge jumped up with such haste that he overturned his chair.

“If you don’t stop the outrage right now, I’ll fine you.” Or even put me in jail! For fifteen days!

The old man rose slowly from the bench and slapped his sides.

* * *

Dedicated to me

Sex position comedy

wedding violence

I received such a call from the hotel room where my friend spent his wedding night. The morning after the wedding is already an ordeal, but here it’s just a nightmare. But first things first.

Gena was not going to marry - neither to Katya, nor in principle.

He was from an intelligent Petersburg family. All scientists, some are listed in the encyclopedia. Grandmother, of course, is Jewish. Not rich.

Katya came to St. Petersburg from Ryazan. In the family, all the military, even pets. Dad, of course, is a former paratrooper. Rich.

Gena saw a photograph of dad in the morning after, so to speak, unprotected intercourse and immediately understood everything. Grandmother taught Gena to look at the pedigree before the first date, because you never know how it can end, but Gena did not listen to his grandmother.

As a result, Katya suddenly became pregnant. The girl was lucky with the family of the father of the child. They were deeply decent people and they obliged Gena to marry, although Katya was not immediately accepted into full-fledged relatives. This dichotomy, by the way, has led to divorce more than one couple of different classes, since feeling like a second-class woman who suddenly fell on her adored son or grandson is a dubious pleasure. Especially if you seem to have been let out of the zoo, but they still treat you like a talking badger. And if there are still differences in material status and representatives of the intelligentsia are much poorer, the situation of a girl sometimes becomes completely unbearable: she is to blame for not being refined enough, and for being too rich.

But these were all possible details of the future. In the present, it was necessary to resolve the issue with the wedding. When counting the number of guests, it turned out that the forces are completely unequal. The intelligentsia fielded twelve people, mostly injured and with low motivation. The proletariat with the merchants - as many as fifty-nine, gathered from all over the country, twenty-four of which Katya had never seen, and twenty-three would never have wanted to see. All of them were eager to fight, more precisely, to St. Petersburg for the wedding of “our Katenka” with a man whose great-grandfather is mentioned in the Great Soviet Encyclopedia. In practice, the “talking dog”, you have to look, touch, not to mention testing it for strength, which my father’s friends in the Airborne Forces dreamed about. Gena's relatives, of course, did not want to see anyone at all, and especially not to hear.

The costs of this "friendly match" were borne by the visiting team.

A wedding can be summed up in one word – funeral. This word reflected the expression on the faces of the groom's team, himself and the bride. I wanted to bury the presenter, the musicians, and the cooks. The reason for the meeting was forgotten as quickly as the deceased is forgotten at the wake, when on the day of mourning almost drunken dances of guests from different sides of the deceased begin. Two hours after the start, the “referee” lost control over the “game” and was removed from the “field”. The Russian wedding began, meaningless and ... meaningless.

The bride's uncle, who arrived from Rostov-on-Don, started drinking back in Rostov-on-Don and succeeded so much in this occupation that he forgot about his wife, although it was difficult to forget about such a bulky load, and tried to invite Genya's mother, who was frozen into a chair, to a slow dance. Uncle was not at all embarrassed, and he picked it up with him. To thunderous applause, the Kuban Cossack circled the chair with the half-dead teacher of the philological faculty around the hall and dropped both of them practically into the cake.

Katya's mother, a simple, but kind and extremely well-mannered woman, sat down at the table with Genka's parents and encouraged: "Please be patient, I understand everything."

Then there was a funeral procession with unnecessary gifts and the necessary envelopes, then a requiem - ugh - a dance to the song "Because you can't be so beautiful in the world" and finally throwing wreaths at a crowd of potential brides.

The wife of the Rostov dancer, offended by her husband's act, said that she would also catch a wreath, and, having crushed a couple of unmarried girls, she got a pass for the next marriage.

One of the guests approached Genka's grandmother with some absurd compliments and ended everything with a delightful phrase: "After all, there are good people among the Jews."

After that, my grandmother shared her fear with me: “Hmm, getting married is not so bad, it’s important how you get a divorce later. And here, I'm afraid, if anything, the world will not work out.

Katya's father's friends put me and my fiancé at the table and began to pour vodka into our frail bodies, simultaneously teaching the groom the tricks of family life. “Genka, you don’t let the woman loose! And remember - no one has died from a good bream. No, of course, you can’t beat a woman, but you can prescribe bream! - taught the life of my friend a man with a wrist the size of Genka's head.

In the morning I was awakened by the sound of the above-mentioned call.

“Sanya, do, do what?! I, most importantly, do not understand why I do it like that. We immediately fell asleep almost, when did I have time? And you know me, I wouldn't hurt a fly, but Katya, she's so tender. Lord, how could I…”

“But Katya doesn’t remember?”

“Yes, in general, she can still only mumble, she got into a full salad, although, as she looked in the mirror, she sobered up a little. But when I hit her, she doesn’t remember, she only says that dad will kill me, and that she didn’t think that I was basically capable of raising a hand against a woman. I didn't think so either."

I note that Genka was the most decent among us. He treated everyone, even the most fleeting, acquaintances as best friends, always escorted home, sincerely cared, talked about girlish problems for hours, if they wanted it from him. In general, we were ashamed of ourselves in the rays of Genka's virtue. And then beat your wife. Although once I saw how his head flies off the coils, and then he was scary. I note: that case also occurred with the participation of alcohol.

Nevertheless, the problem had to be solved. My head was exploding and I asked the roomservice to bring me a bottle of beer. The waiter who came asked:

“How is the bride, is she alive? She got it yesterday…”

I choked. "In terms of?"

I called Genya and told him everything, then grabbed the waiter in an armful and went to look for Katya's dad. He was found at breakfast sober, alert, and clean-shaven. Only with me, the former military man drank almost 0.7. Yes. Here is the hardening! After listening to the tragic story, he briefly and without unnecessary emotions put everything in its place: “It looks like a week in dark glasses, and everything is business, and the husband did a good job, he wanted to keep the tradition.”

In the evening, the newlyweds flew off on a trip. In all the photographs, Katya was wearing huge sunglasses, no one else found out about domestic violence. By the way, they never got divorced. Moreover, the grandmother took on the role of professor, and a year later Dolittle was unrecognizable. Even the fathers became friends, with the exception of one disagreement. The frail Genkin's dad asks to send his grandson to the Ryazan Airborne Forces School, and the paratrooper lobbies for St. Petersburg State University. Everyone takes out their complexes on children as best they can.

P.S. And a little more about Genkin's family. At the time of the wedding, Katya was no longer pregnant - it did not work out that time, unfortunately. She was worried, she was afraid that they would not believe her, they would think that she, in principle, invented it all, or that the groom would withdraw the offer, but education is education. When Gena told his family about the problem, the grandmother calmly said:

“I'm sure it won't affect your marriage plans. Not to call a pregnant girl in marriage is cowardice, but to refuse a woman who has lost a child is already a betrayal. Dante left the last circle for such. I don't advise you.

– Grandma, even without Dante I understand what is possible and what is not.

About love. Stories and stories

This collection includes stories that were sent to the contest "About Love ..." as part of the "People's Book" project.

The audience was asked to recount the memories of this feeling in its deepest understanding. Selected stories are featured in this edition.

The book also includes love stories of famous writers, in particular, Marina Stepnova, Maya Kucherskaya, and others.

My universities. Collection of stories about youth

The best time in life is youth! Students are a great time! There is no time to be bored in the hostel! There are no more pleasant memories than the university life!

This topic is devoted to the next volume of the "People's Book", which was created with the participation of the Booker Prize winner Alexander Snegirev.

The collection includes many popular authors - Maria Metlitskaya, Anna Matveeva, Alexander Melikhov, Oleg Zhdanov, Alexander Malenkov, Alexander Tsypkin.

The collection of the best stories perfectly illustrates not only all the interesting moments of student life, but also the features of the history of our country.

Approved by Runet

Women of inexorable age and other unprincipled stories

“In these stories, everything is strange, sudden, but at the same time, paradoxically, everything is true. It gives a feeling of lightness and freedom.”

The hooligan lyrics of the famous PR specialist and journalist Alexander Tsypkin from St. Petersburg deservedly surpassed the network success and popularity in periodicals.

This book is uplifting, but it can also make you cry. But most importantly, it can restore your taste for life...

Goodbye house and new unprincipled stories

He took the top lines in the tops of the best-selling books and set a number of records.

The stories presented in the new edition were read from the stage by such actors as Sergey Burunov, Maxim Vitorgan, Sergey Garmash, Mikhail Gorevoy, Ingeborga Dapkunaite, Victoria Isakova, Danila Kozlovsky, Anna Mikhalkova, Mikhail Morozov, Elena Polyakova, Petr Semak, Pavel Tabakov, Polina Tolstun, Andrey Urgant, Nikolai Fomenko, Konstantin Khabensky, Yulia Khlynina, Dmitry Chebotarev, Katerina Spitz, etc.

Holiday-Holiday

Stories for Christmas and New Year

The period leading up to the New Year and Christmas is probably the most pleasant time of the year. People begin to take stock of the year, set new goals and make plans for the coming year, decorate the house, stock up on gifts and wait for the holidays with pleasure.

And they would really like magic and miracles. And miracles happen. Someone who has been in despair for a long time suddenly meets love.

Someone discovers a guardian angel or meets a good person who helps in a difficult period. Some people's dreams come true..

All these incredible miracles are told by the stories that are collected in this book.

Unprincipled Readings

Notes on iPhones (compilation)

This edition contains the stories of 3 writers, 3 men, 3 Alexandrov: Tsypkin, Snegiryov, Malenkov.

This book sounds as good as a real performance. Everything is present in it: disappointment and love, adults and children, animals, the capital and the provinces, joy and sorrow, laughter and despair.

Here, definitely, there is only one thing - boredom.

No series

Prada and truth

“... Once a potential fruit-bearing cactus comes into one of the boutiques. I was told about this and I began to court this subject.

He calmly examined the outfits for 5 thousand dollars, which confirmed the earlier assumptions about the presence of a lot of money.

In the end, he chose some things, I started a conversation with him, the cactus was already almost in a pot, and I instructed him to fill out a client questionnaire so that we could give him discounts, bonuses and congratulations ... "

Plemyash is ours or Where the calls lead

“... Last year, a general suddenly appeared among the suffering. Real. Stripes and epaulettes showed through the fabric of elegantly matched suits. On the whole, he was a general of opportunity and good taste. He also had a name for selection - Pyotr Sergeevich Berezin.

He immediately decided to storm Maria Yakovlevna, but was doused with boiling tar before reaching the fortress.

Seeing the loss, he offered true friendship…”

Call of Duty

“... I, in my subjective opinion, am not the worst person and definitely was a good child. My relatives adored me, and I loved them, appreciated them, gave them postcards, recited poems from a stool, wrote articles about my family, was proud, but at the moment when I found out about my grandmother's misfortune, dark forces trampled all the sprouts of virtue in my soul.

What will happen to my money if...

I really disliked this thought as soon as it arose, and pushed it into the farthest corner of my mind, but even from there it shone purple-violet ... "