cake

At the end of the last century, a musician Dima lived in the Shore Chelns.
Dima played at weddings and funerals, earned well, married and dreamed of children, better than two.
Live and rejoice, but here, in his unwavering life, without a declaration of war, a black strip invaded, I would even say - a black hole.
At first from Dima, the wife went to some Tatar, and later she, together with this Tatar, expelled Dima from the house.
Chess and Mat.
There is nowhere to live.
And our hero, reflecting, reasoned: it is better not to live anywhere in Moscow than in the Nabergej Chelny.
Here he gathered all his things (which were not useful to the Tatar) - a guitar and a backpack with music discs, bought a plateau ticket and went to conquer the capital.
Almost for all the money Dima hired an apartment in the new building - completely empty, without furniture and even without floor, and from morning to evening ran around the city in search of ways to conquer Moscow.

The conquest began with the tragic loss of a favorite guitar, as a result of a demonstrative mortuary on the Old Arbat. New street guitarists there are not very liked, their deva is nowhere.
Dimina's face was heavily swollen and ceased to look like the photo in the passport, and this, of course, was not for free, confirmed by every expert encountered in the Mintov form.

The money almost ended, and going to interviews with Finns is just to make people laugh.
A week later, you will have to pay for the apartment.
And here even the birthday did not add joy at all - it is not just a birthday, but a serious date - 40 years.
Dima woke up in the middle of the night from the hard, cold floor, pumped the inflatable mattress, again lay down, thought and decided: fuck them with the last money. I have a anniversary today. What am I, not a man? I will buy a big, delicious cake, make a cupcake and arrange a real celebration. And nothing that without guests, I will get more.
The evening came.
Smoke with a knife sat on the floor in front of a large chocolate cake and carefully targeted where it would be sprayed, and in the shower of something became so unbearable longing that at least in the window:

What kind of anniversary? What a cake? So many grandmothers took him. And tomorrow what? forty years
Uncle, the roar is broken like a bomb from a heatway, and behaves like a little boy!

Dima looked at the box under the cake and realized that this was his chance. The cake was delayed for one day.
You need to pack it carefully, the good cheque is not thrown out, and quickly deliver back to the store. The remaining money, plus the return for the cake, should be enough for a ticket to Chelnov, there are still some people, not what is here, the desert...
Saying – done, Dima packed the cake, went down the elevator and went out of the entrance. Suddenly he sees a little Toyota slowly but confidently rolling through the courtyard with an open driver’s door, and behind it a woman seeds and laughingly shouts:
and oh! Oh yeah! and ah! and ah! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!
She opened the garage and apparently didn’t put the car on the towel.
The Toyota has already gotten well and targeted right next to the expensive black Mercedes.
Dima stood very close to Mercedes, but, with all the desire, his hands did not stop the car and he had nothing else but to push between the cars his much-suffering, chocolate cake.
A light "squeeze" spread, the cake splashed for an entire square meter, but on the cars no scratches, only frozen chocolate splashes.
The escaped hostess of Toyota for a long time thanked her ingenious savior with a beaten rod, and tried in every way to compensate him for the damage suffered, but Dima nobly refused:

“Well, stop, don’t need money, I won’t take money, superheroes don’t take money.
“Thank you Superhero, but you went somewhere with the cake, you now have to buy a new one.
“Yes, don’t worry, I don’t need it anymore – it’s my birthday today, and there will still be no guests, I’m in Moscow for less than a month and I don’t know anyone yet.
Oh I congratulate you.
"Thank you, and now quickly wash the door of the Mercedes until the owner noticed the chocolate salute, and all good luck on the roads.

Dima returned to the apartment and, cursing himself for the meaningless loss heroism, began to count all the remaining money with pennies including.
Suddenly I knocked on the door (no call)
On the threshold was Anna, the hostess of Toyota. In one hand she held a large plate of homemade plushes, and in the other a bottle of cognac:

Dear newborn superhero, am I not late? Let’s celebrate and joke.


On this Dimina's black strip exhausted and changed to white.
Anja arranged Dima as a sound director for our television company, married him and gave him two children, as he dreamed.

When there is a black strip in my life, I always remember this story and look closely at the sides, so as not to pierce my salvation cake.