- Hmmm ... - I scratched my turnip, smiling awkwardly, like a schoolboy, who caught a teacher with a fizruk. Other people's troubles, especially those put up for sale marked “hopeless”, always touched me with an abundance of contrived deadlocks.

At this moment we came to the entrance. And only we were going to go to the elevators, when suddenly to meet us from the side of the stairs, like the devil from the snuffbox, the notorious police major Andrei Nikiforov jumped out at full speed. His face, twisted with rage, made me doubt the reality of what was happening.

- Go home, bitch! - He grunted at Vasya, grabbing her by the elbow and shoving her to the elevators. - And you, pussy, now you will be washed with blood.

- Do not touch him, Andrew, I beg you! - Vasya got hysterical. - He did nothing!

- Go home, scum! - He barked at her, and she went to the elevator.

I remained extremely calm, the glow of paint slowly rising to the ears. Anticipating trouble, I decided to take an indifferent look.

- What are you talking to her now? - the cuckold pounced on me when the elevator's iron doors jingled. He bore me with a withering gaze, his face slowly took on the stern look that befits the guardian of law and order.

- About noise in the evenings.

- This is not your business, puppy! - the major immediately became enraged. “What right do you have for my wife, eh?” - he suddenly grabbed my coat lapel, spattered my nose and lips.

“We met by chance,” I murmured. He was half a head taller and twice as wide at the shoulders — a closet, not to mention the bestial force in his hairy arms.

- By chance? He repeated caustically, squinting. - We met, it means that two strangers happened by chance and talked. What are you pizdish me here, but, face is pizdyuya! - he almost lifted me above the ground.

- We met earlier. Together we went up in the elevator, then Vasya went to you, and I went to my place ... - I beat my legs, like a ballet dancer, trying to break free. The seams in the coat crackled.

- Vasya?! Vasya?! Yes what she to you, fuck, Vasya! - Nikiforov shook himself, shook me like a bag of shit. - Vasilisa, fuck, Nikolaevna, understood, you schmuck! Uebysh! Pussy now to his apartment and sit there, pidrilo. And if I see you again next to her, I will kill you, you freak. I will make mince from you, you will be bleeding with my blood, kid. You regret that the light was born, scum!

I ran to the elevators. Fortunately, one of them stood below, and I did not have to wait long.

Once under the distribution, for a long time I could not recover.

"Freak! I hate it! ”I gritted my teeth, washing my face with cold water. From the mirror, a frightened young man, a sheep, looked at me like a bull compared to that bull, which five minutes before that had humiliated and trampled my dignity, my ridiculous and comprehensive notion of integrity.

I returned to the room just in time for the second act.

- Yes, he went to fuck! - Nikiforov shouted so that the glass in the section rattled. - I will apologize to him! Shut up, childless scum! Eat, come on!

The roar of the wolfhound was interspersed with girlish chirp, not distinguishable at the level of words, but perfectly harmonizing in the context of what is happening.

“La-la-la, la-la, la-la, bla,” Vasya chirped in rich melodic tones.

- Yes, what the fuck insult? - booted major. - Let him apologize!

While they were so crucified to each other, I decided to conduct an audit of personal belongings collected in the unfortunate apartment for an incomplete week. All my pants, shirts, pants and sweaters hardly fit in a gym bag.

“We'll have to make two moves,” I reflected, estimating the amount of bed linen. - Tracksuit, two pairs of sneakers, dishes in the kitchen - well, there was no sadness! "

I repented for the haste of moving without the right of correspondence.

“Now try to tell your parents what happened!” I lamented.

This last important moment especially tickled the nerves on the background of jokes, chipped off by ancestors in recent times.The symbolic return of the prodigal son to the patrimonial nest is not childishly smashed fantasy.

“Away is good, but it's better at home,” my mother will say.

“Where he was born, it was useful there,” the father notes.

And only my elder brother, who lives with his wife in the house opposite, feeding daily at the expense of his parents, will freeze something frost-resistant:

"Every cricket know your hearth!"

In the competition of folk literature, he will rightfully take first place, leaving the parents in affection.

“A worm-eaten apple rolls not far from the apple tree!” - I’ll pick it up after him.

“Shut up! - Mom will say. “You will notice a speck in the eye of the brother, and you will miss the log in your house.”

“Don't open your mouth on someone else’s loaf,” the father will assert.

“And what does this have to do with it?” - I ask with resentment.

Mental skirmish with parents and brother did not last long. Fifteen minutes after the start of the training camp, a polite doorbell rang.

I tiptoed into the hallway, looked into the peephole.

Nikiforov himself bent over me, finding an emphasis in the doorjamb, almost forehead having buried his face in my face.

- Dima, open, there is a conversation, - he hissed hoarse, leaving no hope for a successful resolution of the conflict.

I barely breathed in order not to casually give out the presence, not to fart in the hearts. I was still hoping to fool a jealous creditor. And then Nikiforov exploded with his characteristic bile in his voice:

“I know you're home.” Open, bitch, otherwise I'll open it myself. I have the key.

This statement finally shattered my faith in the honor and courage of the national police. Until now Nikiforov seemed to me, though nervous and angry, rude, but nevertheless open and pure in the soul, unable, for example, to take bribes. Our first meeting left an indelible, brightest impression. This time the mention of spare keys and my personal lack of freedom of choice finally dot the i.

I flipped the deadbolt, took two steps back, preparing for the worst. Nikiforov was not going to break, he continued to wrung out affectionate neighbor:

“Open yourself, please, if it's not difficult for you,” he growled with a tiger. The game seemed to amuse him, he suddenly became so polite, fatherly caring.

Anticipating a deception, I pulled the handle down, pulled the door toward me. Nikiforov’s silhouette filled the doorway, he himself stared at me, getting used to the darkness.

- What are you sitting in the dark? He asked uncomfortably.

“I like it,” I answered gloomily, standing at the opposite wall, folding my arms over my chest, expecting him to pounce on me to finish off.

- Listen, I'm sorry that it happened, - Nikiforov smiled guiltily. - Vasya is a beautiful woman, just for you. She, by the way, told everything.

- What did you tell? - I incredulously hatched on Nikiforov.

- Well, what do you want her.

- I? - in surprise, my eyes got out of orbit, my jaw dropped.

“There is no smoke without fire,” Mom will say.

“On the thief and the cap is on fire,” father added.

And only brother will be bitter about it:

"The bitch does not want, the dog will not jump."

- And what's wrong with that? Desire is natural. I myself am not indifferent to her, so I see nothing strange in this.

- Yes, I do not want anything! I am generally going to move out of here.

- In vain.

- Why?

- Vasya liked you, - he winked, and I stood awesome from new insinuations.

"It is a trap! - I thought. - Nikiforov decided to bring me to the clean water with his dirty Cop methods. Or so it seems to him. Good cop, angry cop. Terry goat! "

“I feel sorry for her,” I said dryly out loud.

“I feel sorry for her, too, very sorry,” grabbed Andrei Mikhailovich, broke into a warm little smile that did not bode well. - She wants the young one. And the fact that she is having fun with her husband all the time. So I thought you were perfect for the role of a lover.

“He takes it, bastard!” Read more →