Arthur Prozhivalova friends often called ' Prozhigalovym ' - he really liked and knew how fast life.
Thanks to the ancestors - they are prepared to Arthur a good foundation for a successful idleness.
Prozhivalov Sr. until his retirement has designed and built a new branch of the underground - first in Moscow and later in other cities. But not the father and the mother of Arthur, the author of light ironic detectives to publish under a male pseudonym, was the main breadwinner in the family. Once one 'in a stream ', it produced volume after volume handy pocket-sized reading. And these books with wildly inflated storylines - one outlandish another - eagerly bought up and romantic pimply students, bachelors and travel.
Arthur parked near the house. The latest BMW burgundy parents gave him for the next birthday, not even on the anniversary. Casually nodding the concierge, he climbed the 22- floor luxury high-rise buildings, opened the door and as soon as he was, in shoes, stomped into her bedroom. Panorama of Moscow, helpfully illuminated evening sunset, swam in a huge window.
... Then undone ponytail, freeing long hair, neatly adjusted earring in his left ear, and include air conditioning, flopped down on the huge bed.
Things were moving just fine. He has just signed a contract for the performance of ' everybody lisichek' group of girls in Tambov. Girls are not that well sung, or a very nice move on the stage. However, they appeared in public in almost classical costume of Eve, only slightly embellished with thin colored rags.
Kostyumchiki these girls accounted at the time, never frowned and shook not, and by the actresses had to opportunity to open her mouth in sync with playback and beautiful to show their charms. Even the music did not need to come up with - it has successfully generated a computer - you only specify the desired program! - A couple of guys engaged in lively arrangement.
This ensemble, another in an endless list of many such, did not make a new jet in pop art, not burden the memory of listeners interesting catchy tune. But the girls were smiling and plastic, moving provocatively in the bar, were not averse to continue dating after the show in a private setting with a particularly wealthy admirers - and these qualities were enough to place the audience is not empty.
Prozhivalov knew that the contract - not the first nor the last. After Tambov will Samara, Rostov, or, or Kineshma - what a difference! . The main thing - to remove the first, most fat fat. With catchy annoying ads to fill the halls of the audience and get them to fork.
Day two, week, month. What will happen with the band on - Arthur did not care. The main thing was - to catch the moment.
So, 27,000 bucks. both from the bush!.
' And if I did not wave to Yalta? ' . And his dream floated over the snow-white hotels Cote d'Azur. In imagination, there was a warm sea, the beautiful sun - and no less affectionate tanned girls in colorful bikini.
But what is not there a week to arrange a sunny idleness?.
Resolved - he went to Yalta! . Though not the cheapest - but oh what a difference! .
Already at the airport in advance with a friend phoned the dealer, the guy bought his LSD - ' Lyuska ', or ' tart ', as this is usually called a synthetic drug. Once upon a time, immediately after the invention, the drug tried in secret laboratories for studying the nature of schizophrenia. Now, if you wish, LSD can find and buy any nightclub.
There would be money.
The company was formed from the first day at a table in the restaurant of the Yalta Hotel. The two have not yet old, but already pretty blurred machos from Tula trying to become the first hours of dating for a short leg with the other, recalling the rather shabby bearded anecdotes, Arthur knew from school.
To the left of the table Prozhivalova located slightly drunk ( as it turned out - always drunk ) Murmanets forty, who laughed loudly and equally improper for a long time on any story or incident, whether it is a piquant story 'with pepper ' or almost innocent fishing joke.
And finally, Arthur himself, with his mocking absolute certainty in any matter and the unique indulgent Moscow hamovatye that women like sobenno.
In the evening descended into a bar. Blood burgundy walls seemed smoked. The hall was poluosveschen, and I had to stop and look, let your eyes adjust to the dim light, to find empty seats.
On the scene for languid humming into the microphone two girls of uncertain age, swinging her hips.
We chose a table right under the hefty column - and as if to order, once the music has been replaced by a very loud rock hammer hammered. For young girls joined the lanky bassist, covering, and pushing them to vote in a hoarse baritone.
The men nodded approvingly: I wanted to catch a special evening mood, which is usually achieved by walking, not for sports, even dancing, just methodical swotting over their heads, tyazhelennym rhythm, knock the power of thought bleeding, forcing just in time to drink this roar, dull look to the .
Ordered the first one hundred pyaddesyat - then we'll see how things.
The waiter offered sherry and black flounder - a local delicacy. on approval.
The conversation drifted lazily flowing amiably from topic to topic. Rarely has added overexposed anecdotes.
Some middle-aged visitor for a long time talking with the singers. It can be seen, the song is not like one of those that are fashionable today. The girls quickly nodded to him, then nervously looked through some notebooks, apparently in search of the text.
And then the song sounded. Initially Prozhivalov not listened to the words. Like a whisper, almost recitative without melody she scolded: ... still going. antique watches. The witnesses and the judge. '.
She sang very well and with feeling.
Chorus of the song suddenly opened, and as if with a flourish, from above shook Arthur:.
... And time, never once stopping. '.
He listened. He did not know, could not explain - why the words of an old song now, in the evening, back in Yalta restaurant responded in him a living wave, so strongly etched in the ears, the brain, the soul. He listened, transfixed with a half-empty glass in his hand.
The conversation flowed around the table in the meantime his unpredictable channel. They talked about life, about the meaning of. eternal theme.
Arthur to listen to the song until the end. '. it is impossible to turn back. ' '. can not be turned. ' '. not. '- Spun in my head. It became sad for some reason. The mood was spoiled. He quietly pulled out his box of treasured. swallowed a pill.
He was in fact already 27 - the age is quite a serious. Parents are not young. And he? . ? . ? .
- Here is how we live, guys? . but would like to express. what? .
The words were confused. It was difficult to collect my thoughts. His neighbors looked at each other. So they have not seen Arthur. Silence hung over the table.
' Hell, some left the tablet. Torquay is not entirely. '- He thought with annoyance. And then he felt an irresistible desire to leave, to be alone, do not see anybody.
- A walk, - said Arthur, and the entire company, taking with him an open bottle of sherry, headed for the exit.
A stone's throw from the hotel solemnly and softly sighing sea. The sounds of music, laughter, shouts were heard provocative to the shore as if through a thick haze.
' I found who talk about life - think a guy with disfavour. - Yes, they see that they know in their backwoods! .
Along the way he drew attention to the two girls, bored on sunbeds.
...
Arthur warmly waved to the girls. Was about to come up and say one of their ' duty ', ready for the occasion, or phrases, but it suddenly felt as strongly and sharply dizzy.
- I 'll be back soon - said our hero, and went to a public toilet.
Entering the room, he put a bottle of wine at the window, pay some fines, and went into the booth.
Immediately it was easy.
' Maybe, but that's the reason? ' - He thought, making his case. - Not too much I'm drunk. '.
He slowly buttoned, slowly, as if afraid to shake things in his head, looked at the floor, tiled walls, white ceiling for.
And then something unexpected.
The toilet in front of him was cringe, go down to the floor, until turned into a huge bowl of Genoa - this ugly device for physiological absorption of waste. The partitions between the booths have disappeared, melted stretch, and instead of urinals in the corner stretched gray- yellow tube. The air was filled with a stench that Arthur quickly ran out of the public toilet, saying to himself that the tiles on the floor was disgusting brown.
Appearing on the street, he was struck even more.
Walking along the embankment of the crowd of people dressed in similar clothes - mostly the same pants, blouses and shirts. A silly white hats were almost all the rest. In some Panama hats were attached, and a dazzling sun shone on the icons.
' What is. What happened? '- thought Arthur. - It seems that only it was dark, the night is already! '.
- Mom, who is it? .
- This is a foreigner, the son of.
- Who are the foreigners?.
- These are people from another country.
- It's so funny! - Cried the boy.
' What nonsense. And what is funny about me? .
At this moment he heard:.
- A citizen 's go!.
Arthur and the figure did not, as he was surrounded by men dressed in identical white shirts and black pants. Each of them on the sleeve was red armband with a strange, unknown to Arthur the word ' militia- '.
- Where do we go through, why? . He has done nothing wrong, and offer ' walk ' sounds incredibly simple, wildly.
- Come, there 's see - calmly said one of the bandages, apparently, it belonged to the older.
something happened. What is it - he did not understand, could not understand his mind refused to accept what he saw and heard. One thing he realized that he needed to ' walk ' with these people, otherwise it is taken away by force.
Along the way, Arthur said that looking at him strangely, looks after him. People around him in the same pants and shirts smerivali similar views of his long hair, an earring in one ear, poison- green shorts and red shirt with a picture of two printed on the back foot.
' But what is wrong with me?? '.
The unit sat a young police lieutenant.
The room was small, it stank of sweat, the air itself seemed to be sticky.
Arthur saw the first lieutenant 's eyes opened wide, and then his mouth. But more than a minute silence could not last. Quite quickly recovering himself, police said firmly:.
- Who are you? .
- Here, - the eldest band defiantly pointed to a bottle of sherry - drinking in public places.
- Search the! - Set to work, Lieutenant.
- Here it is - foreign money! .
- This article! . - Illegal currency manipulations!. Your - insinuating he asked Arthur.
- My.
- Excellent! . That, they say, I'm an American spy, was going to meet with an agent, or met, and received money from him. Why do you get them?.
It seemed, in the mind of the lieutenant had already ripen a report on the timely disclosure of a spy, has visions of a promotion and the next rank of lieutenant. He slowly pulled out his crumpled blue pack of cigarettes, lit up, maintaining a meaningful pause.
Arthur suddenly found himself on the fact that peers closely at the name - of cigarettes he had never seen: ' Tu- 134' - could be read on the pack.
- I have to personally talk with the detainees! - Said Lieutenant. - I will ask to vacate the premises! - It was evident that he had long secretly try on the role of a detective caught a state criminal.
- Sit down - nearly a friendly he said Arthur in a chair.
- Thank you - our hero sat on a wooden stool without back.
- Passwords, turnout - police detainees put before a blank sheet of paper and pencil.
- Can I think about it? .
- You can, - kindly agreed to Lieutenant. He himself had to think about what had happened. He pressed the bell:.
- Sergeant! . It seems that he was standing near the door and listening. Or perhaps, was ordered not to leave the door.
Prozhivalova led into the chamber. It was a room no larger than eight square meters with a small window in the door and in the same hole near the ceiling. wooden bunks. Autographs of former guests on the walls. But Arthur was not in the fiction of people who visited there once.
' Lord, - he thought - what is it?! .
'You must call my mother! '.
He is an adult, confident man, he suddenly felt like a naughty teenager weak. He was really scary. Hops have long gone.
In the most serious moments of his life, we turn to mom. This is - the only person in the world that in spite of everything around to help.
A lieutenant in the police station pondering occurred.
' Tomorrow, the output will come to the authorities, will encourage me or not - this is an issue the last time I had found the culprit - petty thief, but the laurels went to the chief district department, he was promoted to the rank. Should I try so hard?. Or maybe take away the one hundred dollars, all to say that this artist, for example - the clown that he was drunk and went to the dress rehearsal in the artist?. Well, yes! .
- Sergeant! .
Arthur was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He did not know what happened to him, where he was. Vaguely he remembered his father's stories about socialism and about the Soviet Union, but a sudden turn in that time he was in a terrible dream did not want to.
- So, - did not linger lieutenant - now you have all the clothes I sdaesh. Currency you have not, and - you are free. Objections have?.
That's easily gain freedom? . But the objection does not have the strength. The tone of the policeman prompted Arthur that he had no choice.
- Yes, I agree - he flew with the arrogance of ' master of life ', he wanted only one thing - more likely to call Mom.
- There are wishes? .
- Yes, I would call home.
- Here's a ruble, the corner is a telephone booth. From there, and call. - And carelessly tossed some Arthur worn sweatpants with a hopelessly stretched knees.
Prozhivalov not remember how to get to the negotiation, as I gave the girl money and a trembling voice said:.
- I call to Moscow - and stood, wiping the sweat from his sticky hands.
- Moscow on the wire, the cabin number three, - she said impassively outside the window.
Arthur went into the cabin, lighted a dim lamp, and began to dial the number, eight, area code. and the number of apartments.
- Yes, I'm listening - he heard the voice of my mother, cheerful, and a native.
- Mama, Mama! .
At the end of the silent. Then my mother said gently:.
- Young man, you got the wrong number.
- Mom! .
- You made a mistake - my mother's voice sounded shrill. - I have no children. Not yet.
short beeps.
He felt his legs give way as the ear draws a rough strip of booths along the wall. And it all disappeared.
-----------------------------------------------.
He could not open his eyes, but felt around - people. And against the background of someone's diverse sighs and loud wheezing heard a lazy good-natured baritone:.
- Do not worry, soon pulled myself together. Young, strong. Well, a little drunk, it happens.
- I where? .
He heard the laughter.
- Yes, there you are, in a hotel room in her! .
- I. And what year is it? .
- Vysokosny. - Continued dialogue man.
- You, I ask you seriously - I have in the past or present? .
Opening his eyes and looking around, he realized that a terrible vision disappeared: indeed, he was in the hotel, very modern and comfortable on the table lay a magazine 'Maxim', purchased at a kiosk before. On top of the log lying carelessly thrown the TV remote.
Arthur sighed with relief: ' dreamed! '.
- Well, what the past, bro? .
- Not turn? . - Even as povernesh! .
- You are what they smiling?.
- But you still can not believe it. - Said Arthur thoughtfully.
Leo Vorostsov - interviewee.
Discuss.
