Moscow, July 9, 1998, summer cafe on Arbat Street. Constant rustle of footsteps, a cocktail of smells, the noise of hundreds of voices.

16 hours 17 minutes, the first glass of brandy (burnt, disgusting in taste and shamelessly expensive).

- Yes, sir. Well, what are you staring at? You do not see - we ku ... Okay, gone, and dick with her. Girls! But you have to go through and it is not worth it ... They also went through ... Well ... Catch up on that citizen, she hurries to an interesting place ...

(the gaze of a willy-nilly rests on a kiosk with t-shirts, nesting dolls, etc., opposite, sorry, bullshit. Maybe you can find another definition for this. I have not)

- Here is an undying type! Hi, foretz evergreen like Col Porter's tunes. What? Long way from the licensed Polydorovskoy Abba from the "Soviet Composer" to this tray, on which you spread someone's grandfather's medals? ... Long, I know ... Like an alarm clock in the morning ... Like a yawn of the beloved in the middle of the kindness that you so you love, and which is performed not without the help of your lips ...

And here is the clientele! ... Oh, the fat show! Hi, fat women! Where is the firewood? Bundes? It seems that it seems ... Such collectible assholes cannot be grown on the scanty fields of the central chernozem region ... Well, healthy bula, take it, guten abent, victims of abortion made by Uncle Greenpeace ... But don’t you look at these T-shirts, all the same one of them will not fit you ... So, plug holes in the holds of your monthly Titanic ...

And what's that? Aha Tourists of the local spill! Can I not look at you? Can? Yes? Thank you ... I don’t look ... However, the one on the left, the left buttock twitches sweetly ... She is clearly not satisfied with walking along the Arbat, and in the middle of the night, wandering in vain along the corridors of the hotel in search of a broken gigolo, will return to normal , snoring its own hairy circles ...

Who is next? ... Model? ... Model of what? Man? Individuals? Women? Here you do not rush, swim slowly, I will curse you especially long ... Here you are, and. about. girls with a 1970 model paddle (it was your papa that looked at these wax figures in lilac parks, leaning against a vessel of innocent sin, in which all the rubbish of your present life was already packed, packed in 4-8-12 and so on. cell) ... Now you are already a big girl, you learned how to count gold on a field of fools and become a dairy of the first category in those barns where they mooch in aglitsk ... That's right ... The main thing is to take care of yourself, don't let God, no one understood that you are only a model of a man, and not a man ... Hence, a tooth, lips, knife, breast , eyes, and everything is real ... And the groove in the groin, clipped on the stencil of a toothbrush ... Everything is in place ... Well, swim, swim ... Perhaps you will not drown ... I do not want you. ..

Family ... Come in, do not linger, you still need to have time to go to the zoo ... Mom, don’t look at your daughter like that, she will also grow old someday, and both of you will jealously pull up your granddaughter looking at a street musician ... He it will not age ... We, u. m. - conspired ...

Here's your audience ... Hipari and punks ... Hip-hop or whatever you are ... What are we guys drinking for? Right. For this, I'll pump you too ... And the fence between us is bullshit, isn't it? Although it was built for ten years ... Jumping over such a bottle is a trifling matter ...

Priest ... Hardworking ... New ... Old woman under an umbrella ... What, the sky is crushing something? I understand ... Homeless, drunkards, wormwood-grass ...

And here she is ...

Anyone bring me an ashtray ?!

Ibid, 17 hours 21 minutes, the ninth glass of brandy (in general, nothing, if you warm up your palm in your palm and do not breathe with your nose when you drink).

- Well, what, miserable miserable? I sold the same shirt ... Well, thank God ... Another half an hour - and you can go home to the chick under the belly. Yes, I know that she is a great woman, she’s just torn out of the roof — you have to pretend and roll in the evening and go to a decent place. I understand everything ... Do not be angry ... Everyone is spinning like a squirrel, and the wheels - to whom what fate will draw, in this and spin ... I would have bought a matryoshka from you myself - just to build it, along with the offspring, on a shelf in the dash and ... Yes, there is no money ...

Ah, here is the fat show kaming back ... Hi, chubby! What do you write for the first number of kisses? By God, it is worth ... Both at once ... To tear apart shorts, to gush hills and to fall to sources ... And after all, probably, the body blasts shake from Negrinpisovskaya passion ... And then enter, having pushed the excess flesh, into the holy of holies and pushing there, like in a tram, shifting from the mound to the mound ... And to both shout, immediately or in succession, so that the earthquake of the harvester would be the furniture of the neighbors and the giants of the Jünner wagons ...

And here is the lady from the Zazhopinsky Settlement, going unevenly, leaning on the gentleman, instinctively stroking his strongest place ... A strong place is swaying, long since being afraid by involuntary whisper to frighten off the dry butterfly of a pannochnoy handle ... already concluded, and, do not get caught on the road fast corridor, will end with the signing of the act of surrender under the snoring of the partially awake flesh ...

And, here you are, modelka ... You are not angry with me for speaking ... I understand that you are not to blame for anything ... They did this to you, for consumption ... They crushed, fucked them up, glued them together new - and let's consume ... damn ... damn ... I know you recently cried in Kodak when you buried your childhood in the abyss with the blue boy ... And then you swallowed, like a condom, this huge, smelling trait -Knows what, a non-native piece of enemy flesh ... And then drank Martini, looking out the window at dawn, lost in the treetops ... Poor rich girl ...

Family ... Why aren't you at the zoo yet? ... By the way ... What am I saying? We are all here at the zoo ... What wonderful children you have! Don't let them grow up in people like you and me ...

Party people, do not pass by. One more? Easy. And more? And more? No, you take this chord wrong ... Here, look, here you need to put your little finger in the third mode, then it will taste better ...

Priest ... Hardworking ... New ... Old woman under an umbrella ... Homeless, drunkards, wormwood-grass ...

And here she is ... coming back ...

Will somebody give me an ashtray or not? ...

Ibid, 19 hours exactly, the last glass of vodka.

And where, in general, everything?

Dresses, skirts, shorts, boots, umbrellas, T-shirts, vests, shoes, pants, hats ... And more ... Cameras, video cameras, cell phones, glasses, cigarettes, money, money, money ... Who brought so much items? Why are they all moving? And where did the people go? Hey! People!

People! Where did you hide her? I've been waiting for her for so many hours ... Months ... Years ... She was just here! Which of you led her away? Are you a white vest? Or are you a gray tie? Give it to me, She is not yours. She is mine, and will never be a draw anymore ... Even if it will be ... Even if it is a draw ...

It hurts me ... I'm dying of love! Did you happen to miss skirt? And you, Mr. Family-Under-Underwear? Have you ever died of love? In my eyes I see that there is no ...

I only need She. I still have time to forgive and love you all, just give it to me! ..

And who the fuck will bring me finally an ashtray?! ... © Mr. Kiss, One Hundred Splinters of One Sense, 1998–1999