EXHIBITION-a-a-ET, laureate of the all-Union competition, honored artist of the Karelian-Finnish Republic, blah blah bla: - my hardened throat shot the usual phrases into the half-empty hall of the village club. It was the second concert of the day and, thank God, the last one for today.

Our small team of conscripts, alkashisky laureate and a weary veteran elder, finally got out of the taiga in the likeness of civilization.

In addition to the frozen fighters, there were some local aunts sitting in the hall, children were stirring. Someone secretly smoked only stinky, but cheap Vietnamese filth. I, too, hungry for a smoke, bought this bright pack with birds. Now I dreamed of a toothbrush, and it would be better if I had a normal cigarette.

It was the year when Bulgarian cigarettes, and then just cigarettes began to disappear somewhere. Among the usual themes of the soldier’s idle talk, the most fashionable one appeared: to whom - what had been smoked Under the crumpled "Accept" transmitted in a circle, we indulged in nicotine memories, saliva was emitted, And in the meantime the conversation passed on to women.

“It will take Karelia a long time to disappear ...”, - the laureate bleated. Guys mindlessly tormented tools. At this time, a strip of light appeared from the door ajar in the hall, and a flock of girls began to wade hesitantly inside.

“Some urban ones,” I said softly to Max.

- Why, all of a sudden? - our regular clown asked. He, as an artist of the original genre, had only two exits, and the rest of the time he rode wherever he could. - Ordinary Chumichki. Look how dressed. Although, schA explain.

Max needed to move. In his small body there was a full dose of energy, capable of driving the dimensional man. Frail Max, she hooked, sometimes, incredibly, forcing him to be in constant motion and always look for adventure on his ass. A minute later, from the far end of the hall, a giggle came and the flock became agitated.

Baba Max liked. He was sparking and straightforward. In any case, he met faster than any of us. And he was given almost no misfires.

On the heels of times he came back from the bushes, during the concert he managed to unleash some little slut on whom he had an animal smell. With a view of the victorious bullfighter, he stretched out a spreading hand from us, which clearly bore a mandate. We gritted our teeth.

Forty minutes were usually set aside for training. Under the “come on” of our foreman, we packed, coiled, unscrewed, in order to unscrew all this crap in the next outpost in the next outpost or in the club of some forestry enterprise in 3-4 hours. At these moments, blissfully rolling his eyes Max us frankly besil. Especially if another chick hung on his neck.

The laureates of the address heard polite claps. After this song, something needed to be tied up in the equipment and I filled the forced pause with the patriotic nonsense of Soviet poets. For some reason, today I didn’t particularly like to read this near-army nonsense.

“Listen! ...” I suddenly burst out with Mayakovsky. - “After all, if the stars are lit, then this means ...”

“Somehow by” - I thought. - “Good poems. Just not for anyone. Not in this room ... Well, at least I read for myself. ” I continued.

As a musician, sometimes I play just like that, for my own pleasure, I rolled the lines of the proletarian poet in a trained articulation. Dochivyval with taste. Practically without pausing, I began another. Long

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how, preparing for his exit, Max began squeezing back to the stage. Having chosen some kind of intensely listening figure in the hall, I began to tell it to her.

Mayakovsky thundered.

Then we stopped with him. I habitually named the voiced works. And suddenly I heard someone sincere "bravo!" Amid the formal clamor of applause.

With some surprise, bowing, I announced the next issue and went to Max in the wings.

He could not wait to lay out the results of the reconnaissance.

“Pskov sharpeners,” he gasped, closing his eyes. “Aha! I said - urban! ”- Institutski stroyotryad. Eighteen pies. Without men. Here are two days, considering today. In the evening will be waiting. How much money do you have left?

It turned out that he had already arranged dinner with their food and cooking and our drink. Soon, scoundrel!

Max already winked at the boys standing on the stage, portrayed the "skier" and making other unequivocal gestures.

The next issue is over. Max rolled out onto the stage without an ad, very naturally banged his head against a microphone, firing a cloud of dust. The hall became lively. While he stood there, juggling everything that came to hand, showing tricks and making rather offensive jokes with the audience, I explained to ours what horizons had opened. Turning to the dormant sergeant in the hall, we quickly developed a plan of action.

It remains to sing a couple of unprincipled hits, and declare the concert over.

Going to the scene, I made significant pauses, and looked at the girls with interest. Max already glittered among them with the top of his head, pulling him out of the hall, so that the foreman “did not shine”.

Gathered cheerfully. Quickly throwing boxes into the “shishiga”, we with stone faces prepared for the ritual departure of the “freemen”. The foreman and the laureate who managed to bite a little bit threatened us about the moral character of the defenders who were vigilantly carrying: and, having built us into a foot column, they were sent “to the location”. Valerka - sergeant assured that he will receive and provide. So we parted.

Together, having decided to score for dinner and not show up at all in “location”, we moved towards the only store we know. Max puffed up and promised to arrange us a branch of paradise. In the first courtyard, they all changed into a “citizen”.

At this point, my sexual experience was not very impressive. Of course, after the juggler Andryukha and I reprinted four hands at Kinsey's broken-down “Moscow”, we could reasonably speculate. But we are all much. Life-size could only be considered a beautiful but unfortunate affair with plentiful hugs, kisses, hot petting and, alas, with the absence of “interpenetration”.

It is impossible to say that I doubted myself, or lacked female attention. It was just that in my pre-army lifestyle it was difficult to squeeze out a couple of hours of free time. Besides, I sincerely believed that the mentioned “novel” is the happiness of my destiny.

The girls in the squad was almost three times ours. There was a chance to embark on everything serious that I have to use in order: firstly, it was not insulting that I missed it, secondly, in order not to break away from the team, thirdly I left the forest. So we have enough.

The construction squad was waiting for us. True, I waited much later. And at the present time, mamzelki, wrapped in headscarves, diligently depicted plastering women. It turns out that they needed to work another hour and a half. We, having rolled up our sleeves together, ran to get to know each other, in the sense of helping.

- Did you read poetry? - asked the stocky girl, older kind of the rest, chubby, in hefty kirzachah and faded construction teams daubed with stripes of past construction projects. - Go, get Christine help a solution to drag.

From the “Christina” only white “soup” could be seen, the kerchief tied at the back of the head, swaying beyond the edge of the concrete mixer. I decided that we need to start somewhere, and there we will see, and so on.

Kristinka suffered with a shovel, the stalk of which surpassed it in growth. The trick was as follows: to get a solution spade from a de-energized concrete mixer, it was necessary to stand on the box, shove a spade inside it, and manage to pull back the full, almost to the very end of the cutting. For this task, the task was obviously not in format.

For some reason, absolutely silently, I came up behind and strongly pulled the shovel.

- Mmmm ...