In the bright years of my student life, when the great and mighty USSR still existed, I worked in the evenings at the vegetable base as a loader. I liked the work, fresh air, no mental stress, and again free fruits and vegetables. The only inconvenience was created by the toilet, which was quite far away, because the shops and storehouses were built a long time ago, and there were no toilets in them, and you had to go to a shared toilet at the base.

In the fall, our brigade was sent to sour cabbage in a kvass shop to help girls who worked there all the time.

It happened this way: the cabbage swings were cleared of the upper leaves, and thrown into a shredder machine, which cut the cabbage into noodles and threw it into a huge barrel embedded in the floor, occasionally sprinkled cabbage with grated carrots and salt. When the cabbage mass climbed up to the next half meter, one of us went down into the barrel in rubber boots, and trampled a mass, dancing on it some kind of dance to skip.

At the base, one guy of about thirty thin, round-shouldered, slightly odd, but harmless and intelligent was working with us, everyone called him Pod. He worked here for thirteen years, he loved to drink, but he knew his measure and never got drunk before swagger.

After the shift, our student brigade decided to sit in a shashlyk house, the Pod also tied behind us, not to chase him away, after all, the brigade mentor, albeit with a shift. We went, ordered a kebab appetizer and vodka. While the kebab was grilling, we drank a glass, the warm languor spread all over the body, and a little bit of a clouded head.

Here and kebab ripened, served with onions and sauerkraut salad. A pod as I saw this salad, the whole wrinkled even more.

- What are you doing? - someone from ours asked him.

- Nothing, only I can not see this rubbish - he pointed his finger at the cabbage.

- That, at work I gulped up - someone joked, but the Pod did not take offense.

- No, I didn’t eat it, it’s just that we had one case here ...

And then Pod said the story, which he unwittingly witnessed, when he drank before the new year and lay down to rest in the kvash shop in the cab of the electric loader. This story I subsequently discouraged any desire to buy sauerkraut in the store.

With minor editorial changes, I will retell it to you:

“Two years ago,” he said, “we also leavened cabbage, the plan was fulfilled, everything was fine, but in December a commission from the Sanitary and Epidemiological Station arrived at the base. They took samples from each barrel for analysis, and after several days they said that the content of the felts of E. coli was exceeded in one of the barrels, something else, in general, all the cabbage had to be thrown away. Since the new year was close, they decided to postpone this work until January. Before the holiday, the guys and I sat and drank, and when it was all over, I went to sleep in the loader cabin in the kvash shop. But I was not able to fall asleep that evening. A few minutes later, our girls came to the workshop, now they have all quit, and there is no one at the base of them. I decided not to show signs of life and calmly napped on the seat, glancing through the open door for everything that happened.

On the eve of the new year, the girls came smart, no one was going to work that day, they decided to sit in the brigadier's glass booth in the shop, to chat. On the table was brandy, liquor and a dozen more bottles of beer waiting for its time in the corner.

Three hours later, almost nothing was left of this abundance of alcohol. The young women broke off in the warmth, their cheeks were burning, they didn’t want to go anywhere, but nature took its toll and it was necessary to stomp the frost to the toilet.

And then Tanya, a twenty-year-old Ukrainian, the most courageous and drunk, offered a simple way out:

“Anyway, in two days, this rubbish will be dumped in a landfill — she pointed to a barrel of spoiled cabbage — so why should we freeze our ass on the street?”

While the rest of them were confused, Tanka went to the workshop, untied a polyethylene cover on this barrel and threw it away, lowered her jeans, bent down and sat on the edge. A second later, the tight jet of the girl had already loosened the cabbage, and the cabbage juice frothed. This act first caused shock to her friends, but then the shock gave way to arousal. Ella, a white Latvian, who worked on an electric car, about twenty-eight years old, started laughing hysterically, ran up to the edge of the barrel. pressed and spread her fingers. The cold air pierced the golden assertive jet, raising steam, as if Ellochka was pouring water from a boiling kettle, and a foamy hiss was heard from the barrel. On the face of the woman were read at the same time fear and pleasure of the unlawful. Two more unknown girls of about twenty - twenty-five, probably from Moldova, Olga's friends from the next workshop, nervously tugged at their hands, laughing hysterically and shouting:

- Cabbage this year will be "ssachny."

“Girls, we must sweeten all barrels for the leaven.”

“Let’s, really, everything ...” the southerners yelled nervously at each other.

They worked in the storage of potatoes, like all new nonresident ones, and there the girls did not bother to go on such insignificant reasons as peepies. They coped with the need for empty sacks of potatoes, which were then sent back to suppliers. All the bosses knew about it, but they turned a blind eye to it. Once, however, one friend was fired, when the shop manager noticed that she was urinating directly into a herd of potatoes. The dismissal caused a quiet rebellion among the working women, and the opposite effect, now each considered it her duty to pee on a potato hill at a convenient opportunity in order to avenge her compatriot.

So I'm not sure that the desire of these chicks - “sweeten all the barrels” - was an empty, drunken bravado.

Olga besieged zealous friends, not allowing them to open another barrel.

The girlfriends, not controlling their movements, almost flew into the spoiled cabbage, barely resisting on the edge. One convulsively pulled off her pantyhose, along with shorts, from which the padding fell out, the other lingered with a zipper on black shiny pants that all young Limitzers like so much. But now, with a sharp movement, freedom was won, and two almost identical, dark asses hung from the edge of the barrel. From the fashionable woman in trousers, with a hiss, such a fountain broke free, which could break the whole cabbage to the bottom. She slightly unbent her knees, directing the dense fan of her waterfall to where the sap had accumulated, the liquid loudly boiling, causing a nervous laugh of dark eyes. Her friend started a thin stream, which was interrupted every now and then, and finished her work when the shiny pants of her compatriot were already buttoned. The young lady gently raised her ass, put the gasket in place, pulled on her pantyhose, and smoothed her skirt.

The last was Olga - a young, pretty brown-haired woman, of short stature, the eldest in a shift. The girls squinted at Olga, fearing that she would not support their endeavors, and God forbid disrepute about the base.

But their fears were not confirmed, Olga did not break away from her friends, rightly reasoning that the cabbage would be thrown into the dump anyway, and her liter of drunk beer, given back to nature, would not spoil the situation.

The woman approached the barrel leisurely, without any fuss, as if the whole world exists only for her, and what she needs now, she can do where she wants. She unzipped the zipper, slowly lowered her pants to her knees, lowered her white panties and lifted the hem of her blouse, her southern friends looked at her white with a slight blush on her hips with envy. Olga gently crouched on the edge, and her urine poured on the edge of the barrel, a pale golden, hot stream running down the wooden planks, washing away the dry scraps of cabbage, and lifting up the silver mist of warm steam.

After a few minutes, everyone sat at the table, and after half an hour, everyone forgot about what happened and, after sitting a little more, began to disperse.

In January, a new conclusion came from the laboratory, it turns out that everything is fine, you don’t need to throw anything out, just the laboratory assistant messed up something. The cabbage from all the barrels was delivered to shops and canteens, and it’s hard to say who got the New Year's surprise from our girls. ” Andrey Mishin 2000