“America didn’t like Babie Gale from the first minute. From the moment the customs officers confiscated a decent piece of salt from her suitcase. Of course, her daughter warned her and ordered her not to take anything out of food in any case, but how could the grandmother know that her carefully wrapped in cellophane bags, glued with a scotch and again wrapped in a thick linen scrotum treasure would find a healthy dog, who rushed onto his grandmother’s fabric bag as if he had been messing his entire dog life with that grandmother’s salty. Only tears and pleasures saved Grandma Gal from a meaninglessly large fine.
Exhausted by the long flight, the grandmother Galia did not notice how somewhere she lost her left beard. Such - frightened, crying and in the same shoe - she was met by her daughter, son-in-law and grandchildren. Later, the grandchildren will irritate her: "Baby Galia brought the salad, and as she ran away from the dog she lost her sandal."
With her son-in-law Vasily, Galina also did not work out from the very beginning, from the moment when she sat in the car and closed the door, she heard from him: "And if you are so kidding, you are no longer in your village and it is not Zyguli to you." The son-in-law was generally a guy as if not bad - a hardworking and decent family man. He worked as a long-haul driver, but for some reason told Galina that he was working as a truck driver. Why a trocist, and not a driver, Galina never understood, but decided what was apparent to look more solid in the eyes of others.
Having prepared dinner, Galina said to her daughter: go call your tankist to eat. Vasily was nervous for a while, but subsequently agreed that his aunt called him a tankist. At any convenient occasion he said, “Do you think it’s so easy here? Do you know how much I pay for morgh, inshorence, eseshment? I currency streets from delivery to delivery, and I also pay for tickets to loyers so that the record does not fail." Intuitively, Galina understood that her son-in-law spoke Russian, but she did not understand anything, so she could not offer any argument in her favor.
Galina missed and longed for the village, for the forest, for the goat, the chickens, and even for the foolish crazy neighbor Valka. At night, she dreamed that she was returning to her village, sitting on a bench at the cherry tree and mashed Valke's hand, who ticked her figure and said, "why are you stuck here, American suck." But, unfortunately, nobody was waiting for Galina in that village, and her house was bought by Valkin's nephew.
In order to get somewhat distracted, Galina walked a lot around the city on foot. At first, the streets of Chicago acted oppressively on her, but over time, in those seemingly gray and monotonous houses, she began to see some unknown beauty. Unnoticed to herself, she could stop and look at graffiti or the old metal bridge for a long time. Every time she went further and less and less wanted to go home.
One day, obeying an unknown impulse, she entered the door of the institution which looked like a gateway to hell and even the music from there sounded hellish. It was a bar full of men and women dressed in leather clothes. Galina approached the bar stand and said one of the few words she had learnt in English: drink!
Back home, Galina was riding a very loud motorcycle, holding behind the back of Don Jorge, a black-eyed beauty man who told her something all night lively, twisting her gray mouths. On the back of his leather vest he had the inscription "BANDIDOS", and the face was decorated with scars and a tattoo under his right eye in the form of droplets of tears. Since that evening, Galina has hardly gone for a walk because Don Jorge was following her on his Harley FXSTB Night Train, whose engine sound Galina could easily distinguish from any other model. This sound awakened the tank driver Vasily and embarrassed the neighbors who said Don Jorge was a terrible man, the former bodyguard of Pablo Escobar himself and is being sought by the FBI.
Vasily pressed Galina’s daughter to talk to her mother and convince her to take the mind. The daughter pretended to worry about Galina, although in fact, knowing the difficult life and early widowhood of her mother, she rejoiced for her and even envious of such rebellion. One day, Galina put her things in her suitcase and said she was going to live with Don Jorge.
The daughter was crying, and Vasily emotionally told Galina about conscience, shame, and what the neighbors would say.
“You understand, Vasya,” Galina said, “the subjective opinion of others is nothing more than a reflection of our complexes, shortcomings and low self-esteem. If you do not stop worrying about the opinions of your neighbors, and all your actions and decisions are limited to the standards set by a particular social group, sooner or later your unfulfilled dreams and unrealized potential can sublimate into violence, family problems, illness and alcoholism. Look outside of your box, Vasya.
Intuitively, Vasily understood that Galina spoke Russian, but could not understand a word from what she said, so he silently left the door, clapping his eyes confused.
Goodbye to Cabron! (As far as I am concerned, idiots) Galina cried out and went out to the street. The daughter was crying, and Vasily was looking after a fairly young girl with good buttocks, tightened with broken jeans and wearing a leather vest with the inscription BANDIDOS. On the street she was waiting for Don Jorge, and from his Harley speakers the song AC/DC Highway to Hell, which translates into Russian means Highway to Hell.
from the network via #crazy_hatter