It was a story about mechanics in the theatre and fascists.
A friend told me. They had two original guys with simple Russian names. Batyanya Ichni was the most natural “new Russian.” Moreover, it was a man in the literal sense of "of the socha" - a former combiner and a descendant peasant.
The curve of life’s success raised him high, and he moved to the capital with his sons. His children were under his father’s authority – simple rural workers and peasants, but with a rare craving for knowledge and culture. Not that the whole family wanted to join the ranks of the Moscow intellectuals – there was simply a tough understanding of the need for education for normal communication in society. A couple of years after they moved, they fell into one of the hustles of the golden youth of Moscow, striking the inhabitants with a profound dissonance between appearance and accumulation.
In this company there was a girl, that parents for adulthood made a truly bar gift - an apartment was bought in the famous "House on the Shore" - a mansion of the Soviet elite of the 1930s and unfortunately famous far beyond Moscow by wreckage arrests and shootings of tenants. The lush temper of the youth of the time (in the courtyard was the mid-90s) has been repeatedly described on this site, and it makes no sense to describe the general desire to make a fairy party on the occasion of the new home. The idea lay on the surface – to make in the apartment a party in the style of the 1930s – with dances, costumes and other elements of time. The guests, breaking up into groups, began to diligently prepare for the event, picking up images and costumes. The brothers, realizing that it is impossible to hit the dirt in the face, and enjoying the almost unlimited financial possibilities of the father, decided to hit everyone. Literature was raised, consultants and old photographs were found, the Mosfilm workshop and the antique stores of the city were raised. The smoke stood in the mouth.
That day, a personal retiree, Maria Vasilievna, quietly living the seventh tenth in a small apartment originally intended for a servant, heard familiar from childhood sounds of pre-war tango. In her memory flashed a bright flame of childhood memories, this huge, gray house, to which they moved in the very early 1930s with the whole friendly family, children's games in the yard, a basement with dogs, cranes-concierge in the entrances and beauties-military with raspberries. And then... then there were disturbing nights, when no one slept and everyone waited - to whom this time came trouble into the house? Who has the light on, and is there a search? Their family did not pass the common fate - the father was repressed, the mother was regretted and simply displaced from Moscow to the north with her - Maria Vasilievna, and then just Masha, went to the 3rd class that year. Years went by, Stalin died, his father was rehabilitated, his mother died, but Maria Vasilyevna found the strength to return to Moscow and make a dizzying career. After her retirement, she lived quietly in the same house where she spent her childhood and where she came back in the late 1950s. On the street was hot - it was the middle of the summer, and in the unconditioned apartment it was very dull. Maria Vasilyevna listened – the sounds of tango continued, there were voices, laughter and the ringing of glasses. Deciding to look out the window, the poor old lady stunned - to the entrance came to the pain familiar "Emka". Having decided that it was bad for her from the heat, Maria Vasilyevna directed a fan and a couple of minutes later looked out the window again - no, there was no doubt - it was she - the same "emka", on which the parents of her friends were taken and took her father to the last way. The picture was supplemented by her acquaintance, an alcoholic uncle Cole, at one time a great functionary, who did not withstand the breakup of the Union and quietly cried about this. Uncle Cole looked at the car carefully. Deciding to go down to the neighbor for medicine, the grandmother went out to the staircase and shuddered - the door of the neighboring apartment was opened and there were loud sounds of tango mixed with the bell of glasses, laughter and jokes. Realizing that the thing was very bad, Maria Vasilievna rushed down for the medicine. And here... right in front of her, in the run of the stairs, hidden by a huge palm tree, two chequists stood before her. There could be no mistake – she remembered the night of 39 when the same people came into their house. The same peasant faces, the same shape, the same papyrus, the same boots, even the awards and distinctions – all exactly as in the hardest day of her life. Poor personal retiree quietly settled on the hands of surprised brothers and did not want to give signs of life. Fast oriented, the brothers decided to independently pull the pensioner to the car and take it to the nearest medical centre. Alcoholic Uncle Cole has seen a lot in his life. But when two NKVD officers fell out of the entrance with loud matucs, carrying the lifeless body of his acquaintance Maria Vasilyevna in their hands, and explained to him their wishes in vitrified form concerning help in loading the one into the entrance Emku, Uncle Kolya understood that it was time to bind with alcohol. Five minutes later, the whole company was in the hospital. But Maria Vasilyevna, who had come to herself, went off again – the appearance of the hospital chamber in conjunction with Uncle Kolya and the chequists behind him with tense faces did not give her connection to reality. The brothers, making sure that the grandmother will be carefully monitored, decided to retire and not appear on the carpet.
As the happy owner of the apartment later told, the absence at the event of the brothers were all very surprised, and the fact that they did not get in touch for a couple of days - even more. It all ended safely - Maria Vasilievna is still alive, and Uncle Kolya after a shock on alcohol looks with a sharp disgust.