Operation “End of the World”.

In 2004, having accepted a tempting offer, I left the already quietly singing neighbor, said goodbye to Tosha and his owners and left to the capital – the glorious pride of Minsk, where 4 years later I got a small one.

The former working area. Metro is near, but not the center. Not far from the center. This had its advantages: a quiet courtyard, quiet neighbors – mostly, grandmothers – old women and young couples renting cheap housing.

But there was a minus, the only one. Have I guessed? It is! In such places is very popular club of fine wine lovers. In terms of popularity, he left far behind all public, pro-government and opposition organizations.

The meeting place of the club was traditionally – a compulsory small store, opening at 7-00. Oh, those dull moments of waiting! Oh these burning tubes! Are we, the unworthy, able to estimate the depth of the tragedy, when it lacks a few rubles to the promised beauty of 0.7 liters under the name "Forgotten Tango"!

A small retreat. What only romantic names do not come up with the manufacturers of cheap buffalo! “Solovye Song”, “Bear’s Grove”, “Old Waltz”. It seems that there is no ink on the shelf, but at least a 100-year-old brand made from elite grape varieties collected from the southern slope of the Pan-Se Hill villa in southern France.

But back to the opening. If you, dear reader, have fallen asleep to buy a pack of cigarettes or a bottle of water at this time - be prepared for extreme tests. Because as soon as the door of a desirable store opens... In general, it is better to stand out for ten minutes.

First, the concentration of scents will make even the statue of Lenin cry, and secondly - you will look in that company as organic as a child's carpet in a chicken bar. We are strangers in this world of hope, anxiety and distress. We are not allowed to understand... And thank God, if honest.

But I turned away. The previous owner of my apartment was just one of the burlonauts. Volodya, in the past a very intelligent handy man, a high-class carpenter-sleeper-tokar. He lived alone, his pension was high, so in the cold winter evenings the club gathered in his apartment. Accordingly, the doors were opened with the finger, and not only what was crooked was brought out.

Volodya was forcibly taken from Minsk by his grandson. I sold an apartment and bought a house next to me. And kept the old man under surveillance so that he did not fall asleep.

I had to arrange. The first floor, not the very zinc, but tolerable. First, he threw all the furniture, the gas plate, the partitions, some boards, mountains of garbage. At the same time in the apartment, the workers changed the entrance door and put new windows. Then with the powder washed everything - from the floor to the ceiling, simultaneously removing the former once white dark brown wallpapers.

Finally, after breathing the fresh air with my breasts and bowing into the mattress with Sonia (my cat, about which I will write a separate story), I thought about the customs and traditions in this house.
The son!
“Oh,” I thought, “there are they.
Woody at home? A local nuclear tradition.
and no.
And where?
He has gone.
Where to?
and far away.
When will he return?
and never.
Tradition thought, scratching unwashed hair:
And you who?
The new owner.
Have I bought?
and yes.
How is?
and silence.
Trying not to hurt the confused guest again, I began to carefully close the door, ha! The naive boy!
- This dick, - decidedly set the leg of tradition, - must be made.
Do you agree when?
to drink?
to appear.

This is where he depends for a long time. The next call came in a month.
Woody at home?
and no.
Then there was an exchange of kindnesses in the spirit of the above dialogue, which ended in the same way. In general, early the boy was delighted with quiet grandmothers and young couples. It turned out that on the fourth floor lives an active member of the club, and next to it - another.

I will not tire you with the listing of quarrels, screams, morning “and where Volodya”, evening “aaaaaaaaaa, cut!!!”. Then you will stumble on someone (sleeping, poor), then the non-local "clubmen" at the entrance are interested in the subject of "and you who".

There was this:
Nikolai, borrow me and I will die.
In principle, not a penny. Not because it is a pity. The thing is another: it is worth one time to sponsor, it will immediately start:
- Brother, on, I eat, - a plastic glass with acetone-like liquid is poured into the face.
Andrew, save me, it’s three o’clock at night.
- Neighbor, shit, donations, men will put on the counter if they do not return. I am out of retirement (salaries, benefits, etc.) This is a tooth at any time of the day.
How do I know? The experience of four years of mounting year on rental apartments and rooms, everything was seen.

After all, it was fun. You had to fight, and even, don't believe, to advocate for "your" alkas, who was actively muted in the entrance. Did he not swallow it, or did he shed it, or did he not donate at all?

I confess, I looked colourful at the time too – in cowards, with a tail, face in foam (barbed) at the foot of a whirling cat. Per, Sonia was at least a wolf in her past life. In any case, the dogs were by her side. In short, our combat duo has repeatedly preserved the bones of unlucky neighbors.

Everything would be tolerable if not one but. After Volodya disappeared from the horizon, the club moved somewhere. Drink in the courtyard or with someone in the guests. However, over time, the whole glamorous cave moved toward us on the fourth floor. Why is? I do not know. Maybe they have a new chairman, or maybe the house is in a damned place. According to ancient established traditions, the apartment in the rule was never closed - the castle was not there for a long time, and what to carry there? Light, hot water, gas are turned off for non-payment. The classic.

As a rule, the meetings in the club lasted far beyond midnight. After that, the tired members slowly and carefully descended the stairs. This is where the same appeared. Entered into action, forgive me, the physiological features of the examined organism. In the case of natural urges, no one was allowed to jump out on the street. Why Why?

The rush of the young man is not beautiful. So calmly, with dignity, broke up the pants and...

The flowers, joyful and fun.
The neighbors smile, they like the song.
Jour-Jour, Cap-Cap and Dili-Don
The sun laughed, and he was amused:
What if you die, shit, with your song!

Approximately so did all the residents of the entrance. The worst thing is that the conversation did not lead to anything.
“Nikolaic, you do, I’m going to kill the one who does it!”! to
– Nicholas, forgive me, it was I who caught him, not Donos. I swear to you!
I have to look at Sonja again.
“Maya,” she sympathetically supported, “and what to do, master, what to do?

It is time to prepare for battle. It was December of 2012, when everyone was looking forward to the end of the world. He hoped the dollar would collapse. They had no hope at all, tormented by devaluations, denominations and other variations.

The end of the world, the end of the world. Each firefighter bought a few candles and started preparing. Where I got the requisite - I won't say, the mill bought in children's goods, the candles were.

And then came that day. 21 December 2012. Holy believers in the predictions of the Mayan members of the club, well purchased, began preparing for the meeting of the apocalypse long before midnight. The Better.

At 23-58, I left the apartment, turned off the lights in the entrance and quietly went up to the fourth floor. Drunk voices whispered behind the semi-open door, tearful farewell was given, someone repented, someone whispered (judging by the voice, a woman, but, you understand yourself, sexual signs are not obvious there).

At exactly 23-59-58 I quietly opened the door and entered the apartment.

Can you walk so that the glass is drained? I didn’t, and they could.
Imagine it. Darkness, something shapeless in a black balloon enters the room and with a cramp (Anton Sergeevich, thank you for the details), a dead-white face (melt) is illuminated by a burning candle from the bottom.
Still silent in the bathroom. The silence was so ringing that we heard the clock of Nura’s grandmother, who lived in the opposite house.

- Ahr, ap, fuouuh, - tried to give birth to the chairman of the club.
- Give him a chance, his deputy shrugged his lips.
It seemed like a woman whispered.
I silently turned and went out.

That is all. There were no more drunkards in our entrance. The club changed the license forever. And cleanliness and order have become the unchanging attributes of our tiny dormitory.

The epilepsy.

Yes, I understand that someone could have died, that this joke, gently speaking, is cruel. No one died, this time. And secondly, you know how cool it is when it smells of freshness, not a stagnant toilet.

Author: Andrey Avdey