Part 1. Arrival.

Summer. How beautiful this time of year, especially in the countryside, especially if you are there on vacation. For the residents themselves, summer is a pain. If in the Crimea, Sochi and other resorts in the summer, residents earn on tourists, in the village they earn on bread, cereals, vegetables, fruits. They plow from early morning until late at night, and even around the clock. I was lucky to be in the village almost like a tourist. The simple work, because of which I was sent here from the office, was “non-tense”, and I performed on the first day of a five-day business trip. As an experienced specialist, I knew that it was not worthwhile to report on early implementation, since they would not give bonuses anyway, but they could still throw in a little ride, but away, they could. Therefore, I decided to spend the remaining travel time, enjoying the fresh air, the hot sun and water in the local rivulet.

Mead. Honey drink on the basis of honey. Its popularity in the village is so great that there is no beer in the store. I learned about this when I went to a local outlet, apparently the only one, in order to take a few bottles of “cold”, but crackers. "Only last year's beer!" - the saleswoman pleased me, looking at me suspiciously. So cops look at you in cities, but saleswomen and grandmothers in all villages and villages, where every visitor is perceived as a potential aggressor. I was dressed, albeit "in marching", but obviously in the capital. Such visitors never bring joy to the villagers. Either the land will be taken away, or the cottages will be built or the state farm once again bankrupted. While I was studying the dates on the banks, the saleswoman showed miracles of deduction and logic, trying to classify me. I decided not to torture the shopkeeper and admitted: “I am on a business trip, according to ...”, and then briefly told the purpose of my arrival. She was liked by the saleswoman, who immediately broke into a smile and introduced herself: “Oh! You forgive me for being so rude to you! Just aliens always fix us trouble. My name is Anna Sergeyevna. You can just Anna. And I will not give you a beer. Take it easy. You better go to Palna. She has the best mead in the village. I'll write a note to you now, so that she doesn't let her dog down on you. And that will eat, more! "

I heard this name, but I still have not tried. In stores, of course, there are bottles with such a name, but reading their composition, I categorically refused to take even a sample. Therefore, I decided to take a moment and chance and try out the honey drink I read about in fairy tales. "Honey-beer drank ...". Palna, or rather Ekaterina Pavlovna, was the sweetest soul of my grandmother, of indefinite age. She could have been given both 65 and 120. Wrinkled face, dry, sinewy hands, slightly hunched back, but in the eyes of the fire and in her voice burns energy. She really wanted to unhook her dog's leash. A healthy beast that looked like a bear looked at me in silence. He did not growl, did not grin, did not crouch in readiness for a jump. But in his eyes I saw my death. The realization that only Palne should click the carbine on the collar and this beast will devour me in one sitting added adrenaline to my blood. “What do you want !?” Palna asks angrily, but I see that she lets go of the dog chain carbine and her heart gets lighter. “Here! Memo! ”- in the head of fear all messed up and mixed up. I pull a piece of paper from the saleswoman towards the old woman. The beast inhales the smell coming from me with his nose and suddenly loses all interest in me, turns aside and goes into the shade of an apple tree ...Palna comes up to me, already smiling and apologizing: “You’re not angry, we are not very competent and knowledgeable people here, we are afraid of all non-Nashenskys! What is the news you have, dear? ”I give the note to my grandmother, and she reads it, removing the sheet from her on an outstretched hand. “Here, Anka, the scribbler, is so nakaryabaet not to understand. What do you mean meadies? ”Palna grumbles kindly, and calls me to the house with a gesture.

"I will give you fresh ones! I did not have time to roll up and demolish the cellar! Eat slowly, or you will get tangled up in the heat, but you will die, with midge and horse flies eaten, or the ants will drag them to themselves for the winter! ”- grandmother warns you with a smile. And I look at the walls of the house, mouth open. Straight museum of some kind. All the photos are old, people are wearing them in clothes that are clearly from the nineteenth century. In a prominent place picture of a young guy in a military uniform of the Great Patriotic War, still the first stage, without shoulder straps, with diamonds. “My husband, Stepan! He died near Leningrad in the 42nd! Oh, how he mead that respect. As he drinks, he dances and strives to break, and then he doesn't give me food on the shelf. They could be loved the whole night! ”- Palna shared her personal experiences with me, noticing that I was looking at her family photos. “And over there, my eldest son, Alexy, Lyoshka, means. He died on the border. Like him, Tajikistan. The same before the Army on the wires asked mead. Oh, and the girls ran from him then! Here is Sonya not saved. I gave two grandchildren to me. It was just for me to calm down. Commissar with the midwife came. And after six years, the summons to the younger one, Seryenka ... ”, - the grandmother pauses, sadly sighing, leaving me no doubt about the fate of her younger son. “Here the grandchildren gave me happiness under old age! So these darts know u uchudili? In the cadets go! If grandfather were alive, he would kick ass! I would have remembered them as Kerinsky! ”- complains grandma, pour some liquid into my bottle. “So the Cadets, these are the same Suvorovs, they just call it so, the Cadets, in the old, pre-revolutionary way!” I try to explain to my grandmother. “So, they would go to Suvorov or to these, how to edrit them, Nakhimovites, here. And it would be better to sit at home, but take care of the nurse! ”The grandmother grumbles anyway, wipes the bottle, two liters by volume and hands it to me. “You are sweet, and be careful! My mead is crammed, you can't see and hear the degree. Do not drink a lot, otherwise you will fall down, let your cock begin to look for the chicken in such a way that you shake it up! ” I thank her, and I want to bow to her in the floor, for her life and for her husband and sons. And the thought pierces: “Here it is, the real Russia where! Here she is the real mother and wife. And our city girls because of the phones and the fashion suffer, falling into hysterics! ”

I go to the bank of the river, in my head the thoughts are patriotic and not very. The aroma of herbs dizzy and without hops, the crackling of grasshoppers, and the hubbub of living creatures better than any music. I sit down in the clearing, right on the bank, uncork the bottle, and take the first cautious sip. In the mouth, sweet and spicy, slightly tickling the palate, and light warmth flowed into the stomach. “Five to eight degrees!” - I conclude and pleased that I don’t beat the booze’s nose and burn out the mucous membrane of alcohol, with thirst, I take a few large sips, emptying the bottle halfway. After a moment, the head is good, the body, as if after a bath, is breathing and it seems that now I can do everything. I get up and take off my shirt, pants, sneakers and, looking around, panties. Sigayu naked in a dark river and plunge into its cool waters. Kayfuyu! If no need for air, would not have popped up. The rapid current carried me far from my place. I tried to go back, struggling with the flow, but it was no use. Not wanting to torture myself physically, I got to the shore and rattled on foot. I felt so good that the fact that I was walking with a bare ass did not bother me at all. Having reached the place, I took a few more sips and lay on the grass, having decided to cover my shameful place with a newspaper.I looked at the blue sky and there were no thoughts in my head. I did not even have time to think about how quickly I was delivered from 8 degrees, when I passed out, having managed to push the baseball cap up to the tip of the nose so that the sun rays would not burn it.

Part 2. Awakening.

I woke up from very pleasant sensations in the bottom of my stomach. That is just the very sensations that are very pleasant man. More precisely, I did not quite wake up, but acquired the ability to perceive what is happening ...