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

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“After I was told that my balls looked like an old rastaman, 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 inaccessible places.

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

some miserable 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 bathroom. At first everything went fine. I applied the gel to the right places and waited. And I waited very quickly. At first I felt warmth, which in a few seconds was replaced by a strong burning sensation and a feeling that I can only compare with the feeling when barbed wire panties are pulled sharply on you, while trying to throw you up to the ceiling. Until this evening I had not been very religious, but at that moment I could believe in any god, if only he would save me from a terrible burning sensation around the shit and the complete destruction of a sausage and two eggs. Trying not to bite through my lower lip, I tried to wash off the gel in the sink, but I only managed to stuff a tuft of hair into the hole. Through a veil of tears, I climbed out of the toilet and went to the kitchen. I could no longer walk in the kitchen, so I was already crawling the last meters to the refrigerator. Rolling out the lower chamber from the refrigerator, I found a tray of ice cream there, tore off the lid from it and put it under me. The relief was fantastic but short lived because the ice cream is fast

melted, and the infernal burning returned. - The bath was quite small, so I could not help the butt hole. I began to fumble around the box, hoping to find at least something - there were already so many tears in my eyes that I could not see much. 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 unsuccessfully

tried to pinch them between the buttocks. It did not help - the gel, along the way, penetrated into the rectum, and now it seemed to work 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 sink to ease the pain? The only solution my pain-maddened brain came up with was to carefully shove one sprout where no plant had yet grown. Unfortunately, after hearing strange moans from the kitchen, my wife decided to get up and find out what was wrong. She was greeted by a stunning sight: I'm lying on the floor, my ass is draining strawberry ice cream, and I'm shoving beans into myself with the words "Oh, how good." This, no doubt, shocked her, and she screamed in horror. I didn’t hear her enter, so I got scared myself, a spasm constricted my intestines, and a sprout flew out at a considerable speed in her direction. Yes, I understand that the bean sprout that is 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 once got food poisoning from pasta. Pasta! It turned out that the young man decided that there was no need to wash the pan, and so it would do, you could cook pasta in water from under dumplings. And the fact that I thickly filled the pan from under the dumplings with Fairy, he did not even notice.

Washed my soaked boots with my Japanese super soft facial brush. Complained that it is poorly laundered. “And mine was cleaning a clogged sink with my brow tweezers. I thought I'd kill.

My father couldn't cook. At all. Only dumplings and scrambled eggs. Somehow I come home, dad watches TV, and something brownish gurgles in a saucepan on the stove.
- Dad, what's in there? I ask.
“Yes, you know,” he answers, “so I wanted boiled potatoes.” So I decided to cook.
- And how long ago did you put it on?
- Yes, it's like two hours.
- And what, still not welded?
- No.
- And why did you decide so?
So she hasn't surfaced yet!

I had a chic silk bag. Roomy but very pretty. 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 a 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 the oil.

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“My grandfather never did anything around the house at all. Even obviously masculine things, such as nailing a shelf in the bathroom. One summer, the parents asked their grandmother to sit with their grandchildren in the country, everyone left, and the grandfather returned to the apartment once a week, checked 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 found that 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 went somewhere. From the kitchen, the man is on you. There was a boiled egg in the refrigerator, I decided to use it. But it is not cold to use it! Let me warm it up in the microwave. I put it on for 5 minutes. As a result, the entire kitchen, including the ceiling, was covered with an even layer of eggs, which exploded when the door was opened. Well, at least I washed the kitchen.

She left on business, left the bones to cook in the broth. I tell my husband: turn off the stove at three o'clock. 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?” followed by the answer: "How do I know, maybe you eat them."

In the third year of life with a dog, a young man calls me in a panic: “Anton Palych has acne! We need urgent treatment! Where to go?!" Please send a photo. In the photo, a dog's tummy and nipples on it. I am writing to him, they say, because these are nipples, not acne! Further dialogue:
- What other nipples! He's a boy!
- Where do you get nipples on your chest? You are a boy too!
(silence) Oh, right.

I was lying in the maternity hospital, and from all the wards I heard: “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 on from generation to generation. This elder bloomed only twice in all a hundred years, and family legends were composed about this. And now it bloomed for the third time. Right in front of daddy's eyes. And even on his vacation. Dad decided to make the flower good - transplant it! I took a larger pot, filled it with soil... I took the flower out of the pot, took it to the bathroom, washed its roots with Fairy and a brush, wiped it with a towel, planted the flower in a new pot and went about my business. The bathroom, as usual, left traces of this act of care. The returning mother, finding dirt in the bathroom, asked her husband how he managed to make such a mess in two hours while she was in the store. After the answer, I had to solder it with Corvalol. The flower died, of course, after two days ... "

Nikolai Chikildeev, a footman at the Slavyansky Bazar Hotel in Moscow, fell ill. His legs became numb and his gait changed, so that one day, while walking along the corridor, he stumbled 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 no longer anything to feed on, he became bored with nothing to do, and he decided that he must go to his home, to the village. It is easier to get sick at home and it is cheaper to live; and it is not for nothing that they say: walls help at home.

He arrived at his Zhukovo in the evening. In childhood memories, his native nest seemed to him bright, cozy, comfortable, but now, having entered the hut, he was even frightened: it was so dark, cramped and unclean. His wife Olga and daughter Sasha, who had come with him, looked in bewilderment at the large untidy stove, which occupied almost half the hut, dark with soot and flies. How many flies! The stove squinted, the logs in the walls lay crooked, and it seemed that the hut would fall apart in a minute. In the front corner, near the icons, bottle labels and scraps of newsprint were pasted in place of paintings. Poverty, poverty! None of the adults were at home, everyone was sorry. On the stove sat a girl of about eight, white-headed, unwashed, indifferent; she didn't even look at them. Below, a white cat was rubbing against a horn.

- Kitty Kitty! Sasha beckoned her. – Kiss!

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

- From what?

- So. Beaten.

Nikolai and Olga understood at a glance what life was like here, but said nothing to each other; silently dumped the bundles and went out into the street in silence. Their hut was the third from the edge and seemed the poorest, the oldest in appearance; the second one is no better, but the last one has an iron roof and curtains on the windows. This hut, unfenced, stood apart and contained a tavern. The huts went in one row, and the whole village, quiet and thoughtful, with willows, elderberries and mountain ash looking out from the yards, had a pleasant appearance.

Behind the peasant estates, the descent to the river began, 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 the potters, paths wound, whole heaps of shards of broken dishes, now brown, now red, were piled up, and down there was a wide, even, bright green meadow, already mowed, on which the peasants were now walking. herd. The river was a verst from the village, winding, with wonderful curly banks, behind it again a wide meadow, a herd, long strings 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-headed church and a little further the manor house.

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

Just at this time they struck for the vigil (it was the eve of Sunday). Two little girls dragging a bucket of water downstairs looked back at the church to hear the chime.

- About this time in the "Slavic Bazaar" dinners ... - Nikolai said dreamily.

Sitting on the edge of the cliff, Nikolai and Olga saw how the sun was setting, how the sky, golden and crimson, was reflected in the river, in the windows of the temple and in the whole air, gentle, calm, inexpressibly clean, such as never happens in Moscow. And when the sun went down, a herd passed with bleating and roaring, geese flew in from the other side, and everything was silent, the quiet light went out in the air and the 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 also came - daughters-in-law, Marya and Thekla, who worked across the river for the landowner. Marya, the wife of brother Kiryak, had six children, Thekla, the wife of brother Denis, who had gone to the soldiers, had two; and when Nikolai, entering the hut, saw the whole family, all these large and small bodies that were moving on the floorboards, in cradles and in all corners, and when he saw with what greed the old man and the women ate black bread, dipping it into the water, then he realized that he had come here in vain, sick, without money, and even with his family - in vain!

“Where is Brother Kiryak?” he asked when they greeted each other.

“The merchant lives as a watchman,” answered the father, “in the forest.” A man would be fine, but pours heavily.

- Not a prey! said the old woman tearfully. “Our muzhiks are bitter, they don’t carry them into the house, but from the house. And Kiryak drinks, and the old man too, there's nothing to hide, he knows the way to the tavern. The queen of heaven was angry.

On the occasion of the guests, a samovar was set up. The tea smelled of fish, the sugar was gnawed and grey, cockroaches scurried over the bread and dishes; it was disgusting to drink, and the conversation was disgusting - all about poverty and illness. But before they had time to drink even a cup, a loud, drawn-out drunken cry came from the yard:

- Ma-arya!

“Looks like Kiryak is on his way,” the old man said, “easy to remember.

Everyone quieted down. 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 fright on the face of this broad-shouldered, strong, ugly woman. Her daughter, the same girl who had been sitting at night and seemed indifferent, suddenly began to cry loudly.

- And what are you, cholera? - shouted at her Thekla, a beautiful woman, also strong and broad in the shoulders. - Don't worry, it won't kill you!

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

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

“Stand up for Christ’s sake, dear ones,” Marya stammered, breathing as if she were being lowered into very cold water, “intercede, dear ones ...

All the children began to cry, how many there were in the hut, and, looking at them, Sasha also began to cry. A drunken cough was heard, and a tall black-bearded peasant in a winter hat entered the hut, and because in the dim light of the lamp his face was not visible, he was terrible. 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,” the old man muttered, climbing onto the stove, “in front of guests!” What a sin!

And the old woman sat silently, hunched over, and thought about something; Fyokla was rocking the cradle... Apparently, realizing himself terrifying and pleased with it, Kiryak grabbed Marya by the arm, dragged her to the door, and roared like a beast in order to seem even more terrifying, but at that moment he suddenly saw the guests and stopped.

“Ah, they’ve arrived ...” he said, releasing his wife. - Brother and family...

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

- The brother and his family came to the parental home ... from Moscow, that means. The Mother See, therefore, is the city of Moscow, the mother of cities ... Sorry ...

He sank down on the bench near the samovar and began drinking tea, sipping loudly from the saucer, in the midst of general silence... He drank ten cups, then leaned on the bench and began to snore.

They began to go to sleep. Nicholas, as if 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 grief with tears!” Be patient and that's it. The scripture says: if someone hits you on the right cheek, offer him the left ... And, and, killer whale!

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

Marya said that she had never been, not only in Moscow, but even in her county town; she was illiterate, did not know any prayers, did not even know "Our Father". She and another daughter-in-law, Thekla, who now sat at a distance and listened, 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 trembled with fear and burned out every time near him, because he smelled strongly of vodka and tobacco. And Thekla, when asked if she was bored without her husband, answered with annoyance:

- Well, him!

We talked and got quiet...

It was cool, and near the barn a rooster crowed at the top of its 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 it was heard how she ran somewhere, tapping her bare feet.

II

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

- The old man is nothing, - said Marya, - but the grandmother is strict, everyone fights. We had enough of our bread to make butter, we buy flour in a tavern - well, she is angry; a lot, he says, eat.

- And-and, killer whale! Be patient and that's it. It is said: Come all you who are weary and burdened.

Olga spoke sedately, in a singsong voice, and her gait was like that of a pilgrimage, quick and fussy. She read the gospel every day, read aloud, in the deacon way, and did not understand much, but the holy words moved her to tears, and she uttered such words as "asche" and "until" with sweet sinking heart. She believed in God, in the Mother of God, in saints; believed that it was impossible to offend anyone in the world - neither ordinary people, nor Germans, nor gypsies, nor Jews, and that woe even to those who do not spare animals: she believed that it was written in the holy books, and therefore, when she uttered the words from writings, even incomprehensible ones, then her face became pitiful, touched and bright.

– Where are you from? Marya asked.

- I'm from Vladimir. And only I was taken to Moscow a long time ago, eight years old.

We went to the river. On the other side, near the water, a woman was standing undressing.

- This is our Thekla, - Marya found out, - she went across the river to the manor's yard. To the tellers. Mischievous and abusive - passion!

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

- Naughty - passion! Marya repeated.

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

They came to church. Marya stopped at the entrance and did not dare to go further. And she did not dare to sit down, although they announced the annunciation for mass only at the ninth hour. So it was all the time.

When the gospel was read, the people suddenly moved, making way for the landlord family; two girls in white dresses and wide-brimmed hats entered, and with them a stout, pink boy in a sailor's suit. Their appearance touched Olga; she decided at first glance that they were decent, educated and beautiful people. Marya, on the other hand, looked at them frowningly, gloomily, dejectedly, as if it were not people who had entered, but monsters who could have crushed her if she had not stepped aside.

And when the deacon proclaimed something in a bass voice, she always seemed to cry out: “Ma-arya!” – and she winced.

III

The village learned about the arrival of guests, and after 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 guys who knew how to read and write were taken to Moscow and given there only as waiters and bellboys (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 kind of Luka Ivanych, a Zhukovsky peasant, now legendary, who served as a bartender in one of the Moscow clubs, accepted only his countrymen into his service, and these, coming into force, wrote out their relatives and assigned them to taverns and restaurants; and since that time the village of Zhukovo was no longer called differently by the surrounding inhabitants, like Khamskaya or Kholuevka. Nikolai was taken to Moscow when he was eleven years old, and Ivan Makarych, from the Matveichev family, who then served as a usher in the Hermitage Garden, determined him to be in his place. And now, turning to the Matveichevs, Nikolai said 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.

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

- In the winter he served with Omon, and this season, there was a rumor, somewhere outside the city, in the gardens ... He got old! Before, it happened, in the summer business, he brought home ten rubles a day, but now things have become quiet everywhere, the old man toils.

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 bounty, Nikolai Osipych, you’re not a bounty!” Where is it!

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 seven years old, no more. Among other girls, burnt, badly cut, dressed in long faded shirts, she, fair-haired, with large, dark eyes, with a red ribbon in her hair, seemed amusing, as if she were an animal that was caught in the field and brought into the hut.

The gospel was old, heavy, leather-bound, with seized edges, and it smelled like monks had entered the hut. Sasha raised her eyebrows and began in a loud, sing-song voice:

- “To those who have departed, behold the angel of the Lord ... appeared to Joseph in a dream, saying:“ the young man and his mother arose ... ”“

“The child and his mother,” Olga repeated, and flushed all over with excitement.

- “And run to Egypt ... and stay there until the river flows ...”

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 to give his granddaughter a present, 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 both her husband, and daughters-in-law, and grandchildren, all equally called grandmother, tried to do everything herself; she herself stoked the stove and put on the samovar, she even went to noon herself and then grumbled that she was tortured with work. And she was all worried, lest someone ate an extra piece, lest the old man and the daughters-in-law sit without work. Then she heard that the innkeeper's geese were going backwards into her garden, and she ran out of the hut with a long stick and then for half an hour screamed piercingly near her cabbage, flabby and skinny, like herself; then it seemed to her that the crow was getting close to the chickens, and she rushed at the crow with abuse. She was angry and grumbling from morning to evening and often raised such a cry that passers-by stopped in the street.

She did not treat her old man affectionately, calling him either a couch potato or a cholera. He was an unreasonable, unreliable peasant, and, perhaps, if she had not urged him constantly, he would not have worked at all, but would only have sat on the stove and talked. He told his son for a long time about some of his enemies, complained about the insults that he supposedly endured 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 hay at thirty kopecks per pood, voluntarily ... Yes ... Good ... Only this means that I am bringing hay in the morning voluntarily, without bothering anyone; at an unkind hour, I look - the headman Antip Sedelnikov leaves the tavern. “Where are you taking this and that?” - and me in the ear.

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

- Vodka does something. Oh, you, 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, they bought a herring in a tavern and cooked stew from a herring head. At noon, everyone sat down to drink tea and drank it for a long time, until they were sweating, and it seemed they were swollen from tea, and after that they began to eat stew, all from the same pot. And the grandmother hid the herring.

In the evening, the potter was burning pots on the cliff. Down in the meadow, the girls danced and sang. They played the harmonica. And on the other side of the river, a stove was also burning and the girls were singing, and from a distance this singing seemed harmonious and tender. The peasants were noisy in and around the tavern; they sang in drunken voices, all apart, and cursed so that Olga would only shudder and say:

- Ah, fathers! ..

She was surprised that the swearing was heard continuously and that the loudest and longest swearing was done by the old people, who should already be dying. And the children and girls listened to this scolding and were not at all embarrassed, and it was clear that they were used to it from the cradle.

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

- Leave it, - the old man urged, - leave it ... She is a meek woman ... Sin ...

- Ma-arya! Kiryak shouted.

- Leave ... Sin ... She is a woman of nothing.

Both stood for a minute near the shed and went.

- Lu-eblyu I flowers of the field-i! the old man suddenly sang in a high, piercing tenor voice. – Lu-eblyu in the meadows to collect!

Then he spat, got out badly and went into the hut.

IV

Grandmother put Sasha near her garden and ordered her to watch so that the geese would not enter. It was a hot August day. The innkeeper's geese could have made their way to the garden by their backs, but they were now busy with business, 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 walking with a stick; other geese might have come from below, but these now grazed far beyond the river, stretching across the meadow like a long white garland. Sasha stood a little, got bored and, seeing that the geese were not coming, went to the cliff.

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

“God lives in the church. People's lamps and candles are burning, but God's lamps are red, green, blue, like small eyes. At night, God walks around the church, and with him the Most Holy Theotokos and Nikolai 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, then all the churches will be carried away to heaven.

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

- With bells. And when the light show, the good will go to heaven, and the angry will burn in the fire forever and unquenchable, killer whale. God will say to my mother and also Marya: you did not offend anyone and for this go to the right, to paradise; and he will say to Kiryak and the grandmother: and you go to the left, into the fire. And whoever ate meat, that too, into the fire.

She looked up at the sky, wide-eyed, and said:

- Look at the sky, do not blink - you can see angels.

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

– See? Sasha asked.

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

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

Motka thought a little, looking at the ground, and asked:

- Grandma will burn?

- It will, killer whale.

From the stone to the very bottom there was an even, sloping slope, covered with soft green grass, which one wanted to touch with one's hand or lie down on it. Sasha lay down and rolled down. Motka, with a serious, stern face, panting, also lay down and rolled down, and at the same time her shirt was pulled up to her shoulders.

- How funny I felt! 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! The grandmother, toothless, bony, hunchbacked, with short gray hair that fluttered in the wind, drove geese from the garden with a long stick and shouted:

“They crushed all the cabbage, damned ones, to split you, three times anathemas, ulcers, there is no death on you!”

She saw the girls, threw down the stick, picked up the twig, and, seizing Sasha by the neck with her fingers, dry and hard as flyers, began to flog her. Sasha was crying from pain and fear, and at this time the goose, waddling from foot to foot and stretching out his neck, went up to the old woman and hissed something, and when he returned to his flock, all the geese greeted him approvingly: ho-ho- th! Then the grandmother began to flog Motka, and at the same time Motka's shirt was pulled up again. Feeling despair, crying loudly, Sasha went to the hut to complain; Motka followed her, who was also crying, but in a bass voice, not 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, and at that moment, with a piercing cry and cursing, the grandmother came in, Fekla got angry, and it became noisy in the hut.

- Nothing, nothing! - Olga consoled, pale, upset, stroking Sasha on the head. - She is a grandmother, it is a sin to be angry with her. Nothing baby.

Nikolai, who was already exhausted by this constant screaming, hunger, fumes, stench, who already hated and despised poverty, who was ashamed of his father and mother in front of his wife and daughter, hung his legs off the stove and spoke in an irritated, weeping voice, turning to his mother :

You can't beat her! You have no right to beat her!

- Well, you're dying there on the stove, icy! Thekla shouted at him angrily. - It was not easy that brought you here, parasites.

And Sasha, and Motka, and all the girls, how many there were, huddled on the stove in a corner, behind Nikolai's back, and from there they listened to all this in silence, with fear, and one could hear how their little hearts beat. When there is a sick person 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 him dead; and only children are afraid of the death of a loved one and always experience horror at the thought of it. And now the girls, with bated breath, with a sad expression on their faces, looked at Nikolai and thought that he would die soon, and they wanted to cry and say something affectionate, pitiful to him.

He clung to Olga, as if seeking protection from her, and spoke to her softly, in a trembling voice:

“Olya, honey, I can’t be here anymore. My strength is not. For God's sake, 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'll leave here. Oh, Lord, - he continued with anguish, - if only with one eye to look at Moscow! If only she dreamed of me, mother!

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

Grandmother, returning to the hut, began again to her crusts, and Sasha and Motka, sitting on the stove, looked at her, and they were pleased that she had become slandered and now she would probably go to hell. They consoled themselves and went to bed, and Sasha, falling asleep, imagined a terrible judgment: a large oven, like a pottery, was burning, and an unclean spirit with horns like that of a cow, all black, drove the grandmother into the fire with a long stick, as the other day she herself drove the geese.

V

At Assumption, at eleven o'clock in the evening, the girls and boys walking down in the meadow suddenly raised a cry and squeal and ran towards the village; and those who were sitting at the top, on the edge of the cliff, at first could not understand why this was.

- Fire! Fire! – there was a desperate cry from below. - We're on fire!

Those who were sitting upstairs looked around, and a terrible, unusual picture presented itself to them. On one of the last huts, on a thatched roof, stood a pillar of fire, a sazhen high, which swirled and poured sparks from itself in all directions, as if a fountain beat. And immediately the whole roof caught fire with a bright flame and a crackling fire was heard.

The light of the moon faded, and already the whole village was engulfed in a red, trembling light; black shadows walked on 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, could not see well and did not recognize each other. It was scary. It was especially scary that pigeons were flying over 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 near her hut, weeping, 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 tenth's hut, they beat it into an iron board. Bem, bem, bem ... it rushed through the air, and this frequent, restless ringing hurt my heart and became cold. Old women stood with images. Sheep, calves and cows were driven out of the yards into the street, chests, sheepskins, tubs were taken out. A black stallion, which was not allowed into the herd, because it kicked and injured the horses, set free, stomping, neighing, ran through the village once and twice and suddenly stopped near the cart and began to beat it with its hind legs.

They rang on the other side, in the church.

Near the burning hut it was hot and so bright that every grass was clearly visible on the ground. Semyon, a red-haired peasant with a big nose, in a cap pulled down over his head deeply, to his ears, was sitting on one of the chests that they managed to pull out; his wife lay face down, unconscious, moaning. Some old man of about eighty, short, with a large beard, resembling a dwarf, not from here, but obviously involved in the fire, walked nearby, without a hat, with a white bundle in his hands; fire shone in his bald head. Headman Antip Sedelnikov, swarthy and black-haired, like a gypsy, went up to the hut with an ax and knocked out the windows, one after the other - it is not known why, then he began to cut down the porch.

- Daddy, water! he shouted. - Give me the car! turn around!

The same men who had just walked in the tavern were dragging a fire truck on themselves. They were all drunk, stumbling and falling, and they all had helpless expressions and tears in their eyes.

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

The women and girls ran downstairs, where there was a key, and dragged full buckets and tubs up the mountain and, having poured into the car, ran away again. Olga, and Marya, and Sasha, and Motka carried water. The women and boys pumped water, the gut hissed, and the headman, directing it first at the door, then at the windows, stopped the stream with his finger, which made it hiss even more sharply.

- Well done, Antip! voices of approval were heard. – Try!

And Antip climbed into the canopy, into the fire and shouted from there:

- Download! Work hard, Orthodox, on the occasion of such an unfortunate incident!

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

- Why, godfather, pound! The hut is fined - what do you want!

Semyon, turning now to one, then to another, told why it caught fire:

- This very old man, with a bundle, was General Zhukov's courtyard ... Our general, the kingdom of heaven, was a cook. He comes in the evening: “let him go, he says, spend the night” ... Well, they drank a glass, you know ... Baba went near the samovar - the old man to drink tea, but at a bad time she made the samovar in the hallway, the fire from the chimney, which means right into the roof, into the straw , it and that. Nearly burned out. And the old man's hat burned down, such a sin.

And they beat the cast-iron board tirelessly and often rang the bells in the churches across the river. Olga, all in the light, panting, looking with horror at the red sheep and at the 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 in the hut with a noise, then from the thought that now the whole village would certainly burn, she weakened and could no longer carry water, but sat on a cliff, placing buckets near her; near and below the women sat and wailed as if over a dead man.

But from the other side, from the master's estate, clerks and workers arrived in two carts and brought a fire engine with them. A student in a white tunic, very young, arrived on horseback. They clattered with axes, put a ladder up to the burning log house and climbed up it at once five people, and in front of all the student, who was red and shouted in a sharp, hoarse voice and in such a tone as if putting out fires was a habitual thing for him. They dismantled the hut by logs; they took away the barn, wattle fence and the nearest haystack.

- Don't let it break! stern voices resounded in the crowd. - Do not give!

Kiryak went to the hut with a resolute air, as if wishing to prevent the visitors from breaking, but one of the workers turned him back and hit him on the neck. Laughter was heard, the worker struck again, Kiryak fell and crawled back on all fours into the crowd.

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

- Georges! the girls shouted to him reproachfully and anxiously. - Georges!

The fire is over. And only when they began to disperse, they noticed that it was already dawn, that everyone was pale, a little swarthy - it always seems that way in the early mornings, when the last stars go out in the sky. As they parted, the peasants laughed and made fun of General Zhukov's cook and the hat that had burned down; they already wanted to play the fire as a joke, and even seemed to be sorry that the fire ended so soon.

“You, gentleman, put out well,” Olga said to the student. - You should come to us, to Moscow: there, read, every day there is a fire.

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

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

Both young ladies said something in French to the student, who gave 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 embarrassingly, in a lower tone, - the dawn is cold, it would be warm ... for half a bottle from your grace.

Nothing was given to him, and he grunted and trudged home. Olga then stood on the edge and watched both wagons ford the river, how the gentlemen walked across the meadow; a carriage was waiting for them on the other side. And when she came to the hut, she told her husband with admiration:

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

- To break them! said the sleepy Thekla with malice.

VI

Marya considered herself unhappy and said that she really wanted to die; Fekla, on the contrary, was to the taste of this whole life: both poverty, and impurity, and restless abuse. She ate what was given without understanding; slept where and on what it was necessary; she poured out slop at the very porch: she would throw it out from the threshold, and even walk barefoot 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, nobles of Moscow!” she said with malice. - 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 drinking tea.

- Tea and sugar! Fekla said mockingly. “What ladies,” she added, putting down the buckets, “they have adopted a fashion for themselves to drink tea every day. Look, it wouldn’t blow you up with some tea! she continued, looking with hatred at Olga. - Worked up a plump muzzle in Moscow, fat-meat!

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

- Ah, fathers.

Then Fyokla went to the river to wash clothes, and all the way she cursed so loudly that she could be heard in the hut.

Day passed. The long autumn evening has come. Silk was wound in the hut; everyone shook, except Thekla: she went across the river. Silk was taken from a nearby factory, and the whole family worked out a little on it - twenty kopecks a week.

“It was better under the masters,” said the old man, winding the silk. - And you work, and eat, and sleep, everything in its own way. For lunch, cabbage soup and porridge for you, for dinner, too, cabbage soup and porridge. There were plenty of cucumbers and cabbage: eat voluntarily, as much as your heart desires. And there was more severity. Everyone remembered.

There was only one light bulb, which burned dimly and smoked. When someone covered the light bulb and a large shadow fell on the window, bright moonlight was visible. Old man Osip told, slowly, about how they lived until freedom, how in these very places, where now life is so boring and poor, they hunted with hounds, with greyhounds, with Pskov, and during the round-ups of peasants they gave vodka to drink, as in Moscow Entire wagon trains with beaten birds went around for young gentlemen, how the evil ones were punished with rods or exiled to the Tver patrimony, and the good ones were rewarded. And the grandmother also said something. She remembered everything, absolutely everything. She told about her mistress, a kind, God-fearing woman, whose husband was a reveler and a libertine, and whose daughters all married God knows how: one married a drunkard, another a tradesman, a third was secretly taken away (the grandmother herself, who was then girl, helped to take away), and they all soon died of grief, like their mother. And remembering this, the grandmother even burst into tears.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door, and everyone started.

- Uncle Osip, let me spend the night!

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

- Did you make marechal cutlets then? Nikolai asked.

Nicholas shook his head reproachfully and said:

- Oh, you unfortunate cook!

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 stories; they sighed, trembled, and turned pale, now with delight, now 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 stories, excited, thought about how good youth is, after which, whatever it may be, only living, joyful, touching remains in their memories, and how terrible, cold this death, which is not far off, - It's better not to think about it! The light bulb went out. And the darkness, and the two windows, sharply lit by the moon, and the silence, and the creak of the cradle reminded for some reason only that life has already passed, that you can’t return it in any way ... You take a nap, you forget, and suddenly someone touches your shoulder, blows on the cheek - and there is no sleep, the body is like it was lying down, and all thoughts of death crawl into the head; turned on the other side - he had already forgotten about death, but long-standing, boring, tedious thoughts roam in his head about need, about feed, that flour has risen in price, and a little later it is remembered again that life has already passed, you will not return it ...

- Oh my God! the cook sighed.

Someone softly knocked on the window. Thekla must have returned. Olga got up and, yawning, whispering a prayer, unlocked the door, then pulled out the bolt in the passage. But no one entered, only a cold breeze blew from the street and it suddenly became light from the moon. Through the open door one could see both the street, quiet and deserted, and the very moon, which floated across the sky.

- Who is here? Olga called.

“I am,” came the answer. - It's me.

Near the door, clinging to the wall, stood Thekla, completely naked. She shivered from the cold, chattered her teeth, and in the bright light of the moon she seemed very pale, beautiful and strange. The shadows on her and the gleam of the moon on her skin were somehow sharply evident, and her dark eyebrows and young, strong breasts were especially clearly indicated.

“On the other side, the mischievous people undressed, let them go like that ...” she said. - She went home without clothes ... in what her mother gave birth. Bring some clothes.

- Yes, you go to the hut! Olga said softly, also beginning to tremble.

The old people wouldn't see.

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

- Is that you, smoothie? grumbled the grandmother angrily, guessing who it was. - Damn you, midnight office ... no death on you!

“Nothing, nothing,” Olga whispered, wrapping up Fekla, “nothing, killer whale.”

It became quiet again. They always slept badly in the hut; Something obtrusive and intrusive prevented everyone from sleeping: the old man - back pain, the grandmother - worries and anger, Marya - fear, the children - itching and hunger. And now, too, the dream was disturbing: they turned from side to side, raved, got up to get drunk.

- 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 she could be heard milking a cow in the yard and saying: “Wait!” Grandma also came out. It was still dark in the hut, but all objects were already visible.

Nikolai, who had not slept all night, climbed down from the stove. He took his tailcoat out of the green trunk, put it on, and going to the window, stroked his sleeves, held on to 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 heat the stove. She, apparently, had not yet fully woken up from sleep and was now waking up, on the go. She probably dreamed something, or yesterday's stories came to mind, as she stretched sweetly in front of the stove and said:

- No, the will is better!

VII

The gentleman arrived - that's what the bailiff was called in the village. About when and why he would arrive, it was known for a week. In Zhukov there were only forty households, but arrears, state and Zemstvo, accumulated more than two thousand.

Stanovoy stopped at a tavern; he “drank” two glasses of tea here and then went on foot to the elder’s hut, near which a crowd of arrears were already waiting. Headman Antip Sedelnikov, despite his youth - he was only 30 years old - was strict and always took the side of his superiors, although he himself was poor and paid taxes incorrectly. Apparently, he was amused that he was a headman, and he liked the consciousness of power, which he could not otherwise show as strictness. At the gathering they were afraid of him and obeyed; it happened that on the street or near a tavern he suddenly ran into a drunk, tied his hands back and put him in a prisoner's room; once he even put me in a prison grandmother because, having come to the meeting instead of Osip, she began to scold, and 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 liked to use them in conversation, and for this he was respected, although not always understood.

When Osip, with his quitrent book, entered the elder's hut, the stationman, a thin old man with long gray whiskers, in a gray jacket, was sitting at a table in the front corner and writing down something. 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 by the table with his arms folded.

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

The bailiff raised his eyes to Osip and asked:

Why is that, brother?

- Show the mercy of God, your high nobility,

- began Osip, worried, - let me say, the summer year of the Lutoretsky gentleman: "Osip, he says, sell the hay ... You, he says, sell it." Why? I had a hundred pounds for sale;

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

“I don’t understand why you are saying all this,” said the bailiff. - I ask you ... I ask you why you do not pay the arrears? You all do not pay, and I answer for you?

- I don't have urine!

“These words are without effect, your honor,” said the headman. - Indeed, the Chikildeevs are of insufficient class, but if you please ask others, the reason is all 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, it was clear even from the expression of his long, thin back that he no longer remembered either Osip, or the headman, or Zhukovsky's arrears, but was thinking about something of his own. Before he had gone even a verst, Antip Sedelnikov was already carrying the samovar out of the Chikildeevs' hut, and behind him was the grandmother, who was shouting shrillly, straining her chest:

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

He walked quickly, taking long steps, and she chased after him, panting, almost falling, humpbacked, ferocious; her handkerchief slipped over her shoulders, her gray hair with a greenish tint fluttered in the wind. She suddenly stopped and, like a real rebel, began to beat her chest with her fists and shout even louder, in a melodious voice, and as if sobbing:

- Orthodox, who believe in God! Father, offended! Relatives, squeezed! Oh, oh, darlings, stand up!

“Grandmother, grandmother,” the headman said sternly, “have reason in your head!”

Without a samovar in the hut of the Chikildeevs, it became completely boring. There was something humiliating in this deprivation, insulting, as if her honor were suddenly taken away from the hut. It would be better if the headman took and carried away the table, all the benches, all the pots - it would not seem so empty. The grandmother was screaming, Marya was crying, and the girls, looking at her, were also crying. The old man, feeling guilty, sat dejectedly in the corner and was silent. And Nicholas was silent. The grandmother loved and pitied him, but now she forgot her pity, she suddenly attacked him with abuse, with reproaches, poking him with her fists right in the face. She screamed that he was to blame for everything; in fact, why did he send so little, when he himself boasted in letters that he got 50 rubles a month in Slavyansky Bazaar? Why did he come here, and even with his family? If he dies, then with what money will he be buried? .. And it was a pity to look at Nikolai, Olga and Sasha.

The old man grunted, took his hat and went to the elder. It was getting dark. Antip Sedelnikov was soldering something near the stove, puffing out his cheeks; it was ugly. His children, skinny, unwashed, no better than Chikildeyev's, were busy on the floor; an ugly, freckled wife with a big belly was winding silk. It was an unhappy, wretched family, and only Antip looked fine 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 the samovar! For Christ's sake!

- Bring three rubles, then you'll get it.

- I don't have 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 headman already 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.

About ten days later the guard came again, stayed for an hour and left. In those days the weather was windy and cold; the river had long since frozen over, but there was still no snow, and people were exhausted without a road. Once, on a holiday before evening, the neighbors came to Osip to sit and talk. They spoke in the dark, since it was a sin to work and the fire was not lit. There was some news, rather unpleasant. So, in two or three houses, chickens were taken away for arrears and sent to the volost government, and there they were laid, since no one fed them; they took the sheep, and while they were being transported, tied up, shifting them to new carts in each village, one died. And now the question was: who is to blame?

- Earth! Osip said. - Who!

- It is known, zemstvo.

Zemstvo was blamed for everything - arrears, harassment, and crop failures, although no one knew what zemstvo meant. And this has been going on since the rich peasants, who have their own factories, shops and inns, were in the zemstvo vowels, remained dissatisfied, and then began to scold the zemstvo in their factories and taverns.

We talked about the fact that God does not give snow: it is necessary to carry firewood, but neither ride nor walk over bumps. Before, about 15-20 years ago and earlier, conversations in Zhukov were much more interesting. Then every old man looked like he was keeping some secret, knew something and was waiting for something; they talked about a letter with a golden seal, about divisions, about new lands, about treasures, hinted at something; now the Zhukovites had no secrets, their whole life was in full view, in full view, and they could only talk about the need and feed, that there was no snow ...

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

- Earth! Osip said dejectedly. - Who!

VIII

The parish church was six versts away, in Kosogorov, and people visited it only out of necessity, 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 went out in a crowd to mass, and it was fun to watch them in their red, yellow and green dresses go through the meadow; in bad weather, everyone stayed at home. They ate in the parish. From those who did not have time to excuse themselves during Great Lent, the priest on Svyatoy, going around the hut with a cross, took 15 kopecks.

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

- Who knows!

Grandmother 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 her prayers, and usually in the evenings, when she was sleeping, she stood in front of the icons and whispered:

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

Marya and Thekla were baptized, fasted every year, but did not understand anything. 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 meat during fasting. In other families it was almost the same: few believed, few understood. At the same time, everyone loved the Holy Scripture, they loved it tenderly, reverently, but there were no books, there was no one to read and explain, and because Olga sometimes read the gospel, she was respected and everyone said to her and Sasha “you”.

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

- God has sent mercy!

What happened in the village seemed disgusting to her and tormented her. They drank on Ilya, drank on the Dormition, drank on the Exaltation. On Pokrov in Zhukov there was a parish feast, and on this occasion the peasants drank for three days; they drank 50 rubles of public money and then collected more from all the yards for vodka. On the first day, a ram was slaughtered at the Chikildeevs' and they ate it in the morning, at lunchtime 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, he drank everything, even his hat and boots, and beat Marya so much that they poured water over her. And then everyone was ashamed and sick.

However, even in Zhukov, in this Kholuevka, there was once a real religious celebration. It was in August, when throughout the county, from village to village, the Life-Giving One was worn. On the day she was expected in Zhukov, it was quiet and overcast. Even in the morning, the girls set out to meet the icon in their bright, elegant dresses and brought it in the evening, with a religious procession, with singing, and at that time they rang across the river. A huge crowd of friends and foes blocked the street; noise, dust, crush... And the old man, and the grandmother, and Kiryak - all stretched out their hands to the icon, eagerly looked at it and said, crying:

- Intercessor, mother! Intercessor!

Everyone seemed to suddenly understand that between earth and sky is not empty, that the rich and strong have not yet captured everything, that there is still protection from insults, from slave bondage, from severe, unbearable need, from terrible vodka.

- Intercessor, mother! Marya sobbed. - Mother!

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

Only rich men were afraid of death, who, the more they got rich, 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, put candles and served prayers. The poorer men were not afraid of death. They told the old man and grandmother straight in the eyes that they were healed, that it was time for them to die, and they were nothing. They did not hesitate to say in the presence of Nikolai Fekle that when Nikolai died, then her husband, Denis, would receive a benefit - they would be returned home from service. And Marya not only was not afraid of death, but even regretted that she did 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 of a trifle - an upset stomach, a slight chill, as the grandmother was already lying down on the stove, wrapping herself up and starting to moan loudly and continuously: "Dying!" The old man hurried after the priest, and the grandmother was communed and unified. Very often they talked about a cold, about worms, about nodules that walk in the stomach and roll up to the heart. Most of all, they were afraid of a cold, and therefore, even in summer, they dressed warmly and warmed themselves on the stove. Grandmother 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 knew her real age, he would not treat her and say that it was right for her to die, and not to 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 drove Nikolai, who then took drops for two weeks and said that he felt better.

Grandmother knew all the doctors, paramedics and healers for thirty miles around, and she didn’t like a single one. On Pokrov, when the priest walked around the hut with a cross, the deacon told her that an old man lives in the city near the prison, a former military paramedic who treats very well, and advised her to turn to him. Grandma obeyed. When the first snow fell, she went to town and brought back an old man, a bearded, long-skirted cross, whose whole face was covered with blue veins. Just at that time, day laborers were working in the hut: an old tailor in terrible glasses was cutting a vest out of rags, and two young guys were making felt boots out of wool; Kiryak, who had been fired for drunkenness and was now living at home, was sitting next to the tailor, mending the collar. And in the hut it was cramped, stuffy and stinking. Vykrest examined Nikolai and said that it was necessary to put the cans in.

He put the cans, and the old tailor, Kiryak and the girls stood and watched, and it seemed to them that they saw how the disease was coming out of Nikolai. And Nikolay also watched how the jars, sucking to his chest, gradually filled with dark blood, and felt that something really seemed to come out of him, and smiled with pleasure.

"It's good," said the tailor. - God forbid, for the benefit.

Vykrest put down twelve cans and then twelve more, drank some tea and left. Nicholas began to tremble; his face was 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 was melancholy; asked to be laid on the floor, asked the tailor not to smoke, then calmed down under the sheepskin coat and died by morning.

IX

Oh, what a harsh, what a long winter!

Already since Christmas there was no bread and they bought flour. Kiryak, who now lived at home, was noisy in the evenings, terrifying everyone, and in the mornings he suffered from headaches and shame, and it was pitiful to look at him. In the barn, day and night, the lowing of a hungry cow was heard, tearing the soul of grandmother and Marya. And, as if on purpose, the frosts were all the time crackling, high snowdrifts piled up; and the winter dragged on: a real winter blizzard blew on the Annunciation, and snow fell on the Holy.

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

The cranes flew quickly, quickly and shouted sadly, as if they were calling 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 be a maid, and Kiryak would go with her to be hired as a janitor or somewhere else. Ah, I better leave!

When it dried up and became warm, we got ready to go. Olga and Sasha, with knapsacks on their backs, both in bast shoes, came out at a little light; Marya also came out to see them off. Kiryak was unwell, stayed at home for another week. Olga prayed for the last time at the church, thinking of her husband, and did not cry, only her face frowned and became ugly, like an old woman's. During the winter she lost weight, grew uglier, turned a little gray, and already instead of her former good looks and pleasant smile on her face, she had a submissive, sad expression of experienced grief, and there was already something dull and motionless in her eyes, as if she had not heard. She was sorry to part with the village and with the peasants. She recalled how they carried Nikolai and ordered a memorial service near each hut, and how everyone wept, sympathizing with her grief. During the summer and winter there were such hours and days when it seemed that these people live worse than cattle, it was terrible to live with them; they are rude, dishonest, dirty, drunk, do not live according to each other, constantly quarrel because they do not respect, fear and suspect each other. Who keeps a tavern and makes people drunk? Man. Who spends and drinks away worldly, school, church money? Man. Who stole from a neighbor, set it on fire, falsely testified in court for a bottle of vodka? Who in Zemstvo and other assemblies is the first to oppose the peasants? Man. Yes, it was terrible to live with them, but still they are people, they suffer and cry like people, and there is nothing in their life 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, because they themselves are rude, dishonest, drunken and scold themselves just as disgustingly; the most petty official or clerk treats the peasants like vagabonds, and even says “you” to foremen and church elders and thinks that he has the right to do so. And can there be any help or a good example from people who are selfish, greedy, depraved, lazy, who run into the village only to offend, rob, scare? Olga remembered what a pitiful, humiliated look the old people had when in winter they took Kiryak to punish with rods ... And now she felt sorry for all these people, it hurt, and as she walked, she kept looking back at the huts.

After spending about three versts, Marya said goodbye, then knelt down and wailed, dropping her face to the ground:

- Again I was left alone, my poor little head, poor unfortunate ...

The sun rose high, it became hot. Zhukovo is left far behind. It was hunting, Olga and Sasha soon forgot about the village and about Marya, they had fun, and everything entertained them. Now a mound, now a row of telegraph poles, which one after another go no one knows where, disappearing on the horizon, and the wires are buzzing mysteriously; now you can see a small farm in the distance, all in greenery, sipping moisture and hemp from it, and for some reason it seems that happy people live there; then a horse skeleton, whitening alone in the field. And the larks fill up restlessly, the quail calls to each other; and the puller screams as if someone is really pulling on an old iron brace.

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 looked back at the same time, recognized and, without saying a word, each went on his 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, what mercy is yours, to your parents the kingdom of heaven, eternal rest.

- Orthodox Christians, - Sasha sang, - give Christ for the sake of your mercy, the kingdom of heaven ...

I got myself a man. For the first time in my life. All my girlfriends already had them, but I somehow managed. No, of course, I knew men at different times, but they all existed outside my apartment, appearing in it only sporadically.

But once...

In the morning I went to the toilet and saw that the toilet seat was up. Thus began a new era in my life. A man has settled in the house. Although at first I thought it would not take root: they are 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 came up. Beloved, it seems, was only interested in him alone. It didn't suit me. I accused him of selfishness and carelessness. He advised me to buy a vibrator. I reminded that we live in the age of AIDS. He said he wasn't like that. I twisted my finger at my temple. He stuffed the ties into the suitcase. I smiled wryly. He slammed the door. I dyed my hair.

He opened 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 frightened if I saw light in my own windows. And she no longer spoke into the phone: "You're in the wrong place," if someone said his name. On top of that, my pillow smelled of his cologne. Beloved snored at night, pulled the blanket over himself, the blanket fell to the floor. Neither to himself, nor to people... He read Marinin in the toilet, and then shouted through the crack:

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

Svetlana Alekseevna...
- Svetlana Alexandrovna, - for the umpteenth time my mother frowned.

He woke me up at night with kisses, washing himself, snorting. He spattered the bathroom mirror with toothpaste, gave me strawberries in the winter. In short, he was irresistible.
A music center and dumbbells appeared in my house. Music played from morning to evening. The dumbbells didn't work. Vacuuming the carpet, I had to rearrange them every time from place to place. The guests kept bumping into them.

Neighbor Katya said that "these pieces of iron" spoil the aesthetic appearance of the living room. Unable to stand it, I offered to put this phallic symbol in the pantry.

Beloved was inflamed with righteous anger. He reminded me that a healthy mind exists only in a healthy body. And in general, it turns out that he has already looked after a suitable barbell in "Sports Goods".

Biceps need to be pumped ... - he told me confidentially.

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

A) played computer games until morning,
b) spent the whole day lying under the car,
c) ate a week's supply of cutlets,
d) broke a cup and replaced a burnt out light bulb,
e) smoked again in the toilet,
e) said that serials are dulling,
g) watched boxing all evening,
h) hid my phone book,
i) ... a bastard and a bloodsucker.

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

Discovery one: he is.
The second discovery: he constantly wanted to eat!

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

The rating of mayonnaise skyrocketed. In women's magazines, I began to pay attention to culinary recipes. And the eternal question "What to cook for dinner?" tormented me worse than Hamlet's. I got wild. I non-stop fried, boiled, grated and tasted something. I gained three kilos.

Beloved was full, cheerful and always ready to eat. When he with the phrase "We have something tasty"? climbed into the refrigerator five minutes after dinner, I wanted to give him a kick from behind! And slam the door. I began to dream that packages with the inscription: "Men's food. 10 kg" would appear on the shelves of stores.

Bought - and the day is free ...

Discovery three: he hid his socks.

I hope 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 my feet and never walked barefoot. He enjoyed the textile and hosiery benefits of civilization, but...

When he came home from work, the first thing he did was look for more secluded places and there, like a chipmunk in a stash, he hid them, having first rolled them up in the form of compact squiggles. And no suggestions could force him to take these "snails" at least to the bathroom. With maniacal persistence, my man parked his socks under the sofa, under the armchair and, it seems, was ready to tear off the baseboards in order to bury his treasures there.

The fourth discovery: 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 "polyclinic" and appealed to my mercy.

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

Fifth discovery: he knew how to keep silent.
He could sit all evening in front of the TV screen and not utter a single word. Give him free rein - he, who knows two languages ​​and has a 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..."

In fairness, it should be noted that his communication with his mother or telephone conversations with friends also did not differ in special eloquence. And his relationship with his best friend was based on watching football matches together and making succinct comments:

Pass! Paz, I said! .. Well, you asshole! .. Vit, give me a beer ...

The sixth discovery: knowing how to be silent, he could not stand silence.

I have not figured out this paradox yet. Not only did he touch the music center more often than me, he almost never left the TV, switching channels at the speed of light. From beginning to end, my loved one watched only news and sports programs. The rest of the time he clicked the remote control. The pictures on the TV flickered like in a terrible kaleidoscope. My head was spinning. And God forbid to stand on the line between him and the TV. A sharp diplomatic demarche followed immediately:

Get off the screen!

The seventh discovery: he jealously guarded his territory.

His possessions were considered: a place at the table - once, and a favorite chair - two.
Even the guests could not sit on his stool in the kitchen. And the poor cat flew out of the easy 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 male throne, his sacred mug and sovereign slippers. But you can hide the hated dumbbells. Or even sell them for scrap - my precious athlete is unlikely to notice the loss.

Opening eighth: supervision and control.

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

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

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

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

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

Hey, what about the law of Archimedes? I asked.

I'll take a shower, - said the darling and stuck his nose into the newspaper.

The tenth discovery: he grew stubble.

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

Opening eleventh: he did not remember our holiday dates!!!

At all. Amnesia. Selective memory lapses. He remembered Bastille Day, the day of the technical inspection, and the day he left for the army, but the date of my birth could not be fixed in any of his hemispheres.

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

Aunts 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 did not know how to plan our budget. After leaving for food, he brought five bottles of beer, a bag of chips and a glass of ice cream. He was embarrassed to take change. I didn't know how to bargain in the market. He bought everything that cunning grandmothers sold him. And once, instead of potatoes, he brought roses. I just sighed.

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

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

In general, life with a man is like playing chess. Continuous blitz with not quite clear rules.

So the horse does not walk.

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

The letter "Ge" ...

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

Since when are the new rules?

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

My friend’s husband pushed her in the eye in the middle of the night and said, “We sell fucking cars by CASH CLEARING!”
She didn't understand.

Here's more about him, this husband. After a particularly “lucky” night, he overslept, got dressed and rushed off to work. Coming out of the tram, he crashed - someone held him. When he wanted to figure it out, he heard from a man “Sorry guy, I accidentally stepped on your pantyhose.” He looked and found that he was wearing his wife’s jeans, who left her pantyhose in her pants and they are now dragging him and everyone is stepping on them. I had to pull out these pantyhose from below in the middle of the stop, pulling out to the great fun of a large crowd of people.

And finally, about him. He climbed in to wash and calls his wife. She comes running, and he sobs in the bath, “Marinochka, just don’t be upset, you bought a worthless shampoo” (and it was at the time of shortage of shampoo that she bought this apricot for 80 rubles). He is sitting with a disheveled head, but what the hell is on the head. She asks what is Maksik crap about shampoo, I just washed myself, I didn’t seem to notice anything. And he, they say, does not wash at all. She touched his head and it was dry in shampoo. Max says you're crazy, wet your head. And he herself went astray to her shampoo FOR DRY HAIR wet on horseradish? In general, Marina promised Maksik to buy a shampoo for oily hair, so that he would lubricate the shag with oil before washing. Now we always remember this to him, and he pushes himself away, saying that his wife invented everything. But we do know. that this joke actually happened :)

A story from the life of our dad, my husband is going to work, running around the apartment getting dressed. In the end, he dressed in a peculiar way, a T-shirt, a sweater, a down jacket and socks with slippers. In this form, I caught it at the elevator, I almost left for work without pants. The spectacle of a man in shorts and a down jacket is not for the faint of heart!
I remembered my favorite family story - the result of several sleepless nights. One day my husband worked hard and forgot that it was time to run home and let the nanny go. Quickly got ready, jumped out into the street and let's hail a taxi. And it's raining outside, all the taxis are busy. Then he ran to the nearest big intersection and started fishing there. Then he remembered that he had no cash for a taxi and rushed back to work for the money. All wet came back, borrowed money and back to the intersection to catch a taxi. Caught, came home, let the nanny go, fed the child and put him to bed. 2 hours later, I returned from work. The husband sits tired madly, going to sleep. He looks out the window and says so irritably: “Camilla, where did you park the car?” First I look out the window, then at him, then I start laughing hysterically .. He had to get dressed again and go catch a taxi in the rain to pick up the car in which he came to work in the morning :))) By the way, he has the car keys on I didn’t forget the work, I took it from the drawer and put it in my pocket before going to catch a taxi :) :) :) I couldn’t look at my husband for a few more days, I immediately started laughing.
Today, I am satisfied with a hair mask (kefir, cocoa, henna), I return from the bathroom, and my husband is sitting in the kitchen and my mask!!! eats up ((

The fact that my husband is completely ill is evidenced by the fact that he is married to me. He has some incredible amount of quirks, which eventually begin to spread by airborne droplets to relatives, friends and acquaintances.
One of these quirks is the manner of giving human names to inanimate objects. Not all, of course, but only the most deserving. And he not only baptizes them, he also talks to them.

For example, he has a favorite mug. A penguin is drawn on the mug. The penguin's name is Paphnutius.
I kind of wondered:
- And why Pafnutiy something?
My husband looked at me in surprise and asked:
- Well, how?
I thought about it and realized: really, no more.
In the morning, the husband takes Pafnutius out of the kitchen cabinet and says:
- Well, brother Pafnutiy, for a cup of coffee?
In the evenings, they drink tea with Pafnutius, and my husband complains to him about me:
“Do you see, Pafnutiy, with whom do you have to while away your life? Appreciate, brother, loneliness, do not start a penguin.

Even at the dacha we have a Bulgarian named Zinaida. Bulgarian - not in the sense of a native of Bulgaria, but in the sense of a tool for cutting metal.
At first, her husband called her Snezhana, because he believed that a Bulgarian woman must certainly have a Bulgarian name. However, having become acquainted with the character of the Bulgarian, he realized that she was Zinaida.
When you need to cut something metal, he takes it out of the barn and says:
"Zinaida, why don't we go crazy?"
And they start going crazy. And when they go crazy, he takes her to the barn, puts her on a shelf and gently says:
- Sweet dreams to you, Zina.

And in our apartment lives a closet named Boris Petrovich. That's so respectful, by name, patronymic, yes.
This is when we just bought an apartment, the first thing we ordered was a closet. And this cabinet was assembled for us by an assembler whose name was Boris Petrovich.
Of course, this fact casts a shadow of shame on my husband, but in fact there is an explanation for this.
In fact, all the rest of the furniture in our house (as well as in my mother's house, in the house of his parents and in the houses of many of our friends) was assembled by my husband himself. And the cabinet would have been assembled, just spit, but it turned out that on the day of delivery he was on a business trip and had to return only two weeks later.
I categorically refused to live for two weeks in the midst of an unimaginable number of boards and boxes, besides, I was eager to hang all the clothes on hangers as soon as possible, so I did not wait for my husband and invited a store assembler. And, of course, forty times regretted it.
The assembler Boris Petrovich, when he was going to visit me, took a bath of cologne, and with this cologne of the brand "Coniferous Forest" (or "Russian Field", or "Youth of Maxim" - I do not know) stink of the whole house. I escaped Boris Petrovich's amber on the balcony.
Boris Petrovich worked with concentration, unhurriedly, with feeling, with sense, with arrangement, with five breaks for tea drinking. He was very surprised why I did not keep him company at the table. And I just can't drink tea that stinks of cologne.
Professional Boris Petrovich, being an assembler from God, assembled a closet from 9 am to 11 pm. My husband during this time could easily build a two-story house and a sauna in the yard.
My things remained in the boxes, not knowing the chill of the hangers, because all two weeks before the arrival of my husband I ventilated the whole apartment, and the closet in particular, from the aroma of Boris Petrovich. I was even ashamed to ride the subway, because it seemed to me that this cheap, killer cologne was going from me to the whole car.
When my husband arrived, the apartment already had quite a decent atmosphere. He joyfully jumped to the new piece of furniture, yelled happily: “Oh, the locker!” - and froze, opening the door.
For about a minute he came to his senses from the stench that had washed over him, and then he asked me:
“Umm… What is this?”
“This is Boris Petrovich,” I answered.
This is how our closet got its name, and the assembler Boris Petrovich, without knowing it, became his godfather (our godfather, therefore).
Now the husband, going to some important event, consults with the closet what to wear:
— Boris Petrovich, how about a blue shirt?
Or asks:
— Could you borrow a tie, Boris Petrovich?
Or hangs a suit in it and says:
— Boris Petrovich, keep him as your honor.

We also have a coffee table Stepan.
Well, everything is simple here: we bought it disassembled, and at home it turned out that the assembly instructions were written in English and Chinese.
My husband first demanded that I read the Chinese version, then for about ten minutes he was indignant that he had married some illiterate slut who didn’t even know Chinese, and after that he graciously allowed me to read in English.
Lohushka-wife and in English, in general ... hmmm ... But something else somehow.
The instructions said "step one". Well, with my pronunciation ... In general, this is how the coffee table became Stepan.
When I look for a lighter or some magazine, my husband says:
- I do not know where. Ask Stepan.

We also have a Galya microwave. I understand that this is something personal that I do not need to know about.
Because when a husband shoves a plate of food into her and gently says: “Warm it, Galya ... Do it for me, baby ...” - all my questions get stuck somewhere in the thyroid gland.
Echoes of a romantic past, apparently.

We also have an electric stove at the dacha, which always breaks down. Her husband calls her Nadya.
When I asked why exactly Nadyusha, he replied:
- Yes, I had one ... It also broke all the time.
When he is going to fry eggs on it in the morning, he always asks:
- Well, Nadyusha, today you will finally become mine? Come on baby, give my balls a chance.

We also have Rais's ashtray. The husband claims that the fact that she is Raisa is visible to the naked eye.
When a husband wants to smoke, he says:
- Raisa, make a pleasant company.
And when something distracts him, he puts a cigarette in it and says:
- Raisa, guard.

This infection is viral in nature.
Some of our friends have Filya's TV (because it's Philips) and Anatoly's refrigerator (because it's always full of all sorts of shit, like in the pockets of Wasserman's vest).
Others called the TV lazy person Lucy, after a neighbor who, according to them, is also a lazy person.
The third has a washing machine Lyubov Petrovna. When this car was delivered to them and unpacked, their old grandmother threw up her hands and said:
- Beautiful, like Lyubov Petrovna Orlova!
And even my mother has a teaspoon named Isolde. I still don't know why Isolde. When I tried to find out, my mother looked at me like I was crazy (however, she always looks at me like that), and my husband said indignantly that he had never heard a more stupid question in his life, and that every fool understands why the spoon is called that.

I work in a large supermarket and every day I have the good fortune to contemplate the lost, randomly scurrying from section to section of men who have strayed from their wives. Waifs wander back and forth for a long time, and then, usually, they hang out in the alcohol department, where their wives catch them ...
Yesterday it was - one such man wanders around the store. Plump, bald and in a jacket (this is in the current heat!). He comes up to us - I look, and he has a red kitten in his pocket. Meanwhile the man says:
- Good girl! Help me please! We fought off my wife, and my phone also died ...
- Could you advertise for the store? Return us to the bosom of the family, please! We are sad...
Well, I suggested that he guard the kitten and explained how to get to the administration. 5 minutes later announcement:
- The lost husband Tolik was found, he looks 40-45 years old, he is crying, he does not remember his last name. Wants to drink and eat. We ask your spouse to urgently come to the administration. We're running out of beer!

Somehow my wife and I went to the market to buy something for the garden at the dacha. There was little fuel in the tank, after 20 minutes I turned to a gas station. I automatically get out of the car, I also automatically insert the gun, I stand, I refuel, I think about something of my own ...
At this moment, the wife gets out of the car to go to the toilet. I still get in the car and drive away. A couple of minutes later, the phone rings - the wife. I drop the challenge and tell my wife, “Stop fooling around! Do not distract…". The wife calls again, and I look in the rearview mirror and fall out in the sediment ...