The endorphin.
One day, while on a long road trip, my friend and I stopped for lunch at a cafe on the road. My friend ordered a hot dog. I abstained, although I was terribly hungry. In the Michelin rating, this cafe would get a minus three stars, and I was afraid that hot dogs here understand literally and serve warm dogs.
“How can you eat this,” I joked, “you’re not afraid of animal defenders?”
“Mr. Endorphin is not for you,” the friend replied.
“Who – who?” I asked.
So I learned about Mr. Endorphin.
A friend cooked his hot dog, and he told me. Hot dogs cooked for a long time, apparently, first they had to catch a dog.
I had a man at my first job. The accountant. Well, such as to say, in the search you will not announce him - without special receipts. of the Middle Ages. When I first saw him, I thought, fu, what a flat, uninteresting uncle. Until one day I heard his quiet mosquito laughter. He sat in front of his monitor and hiccalled. I walked by and looked into the screen with curiosity. There is an accounting report in Excel. And he runs over him. You are not easy, man, I said to myself then. And still throw, or maybe it's time to roll out of that office, since the accountant cheats over financial documents.
In short, the character turned out to be. He always had everything excellent. This is his fitch. Do you understand? Always is. and all. Even in autumn. When any decent person wants a yardman to bury him deeper in the leaf. “Excellent” Not “normal.” Not “good.” Not even “excellent.” It is “excellent.”
The weather is just beautiful. I go to work once, the rain like a cage, the wind, the umbrella over me, I beat the spikes from the drops, the mood is awful. I see, before entering the office, this pepper stands on his knees in the water, looking under his feet. The sewage was stuck, the water splashed through the bridge streams on his shoes. See, he cries to me like a mountain river, and lickes.
His car is the best. One day he drove me. Go to his perpetum mobile. It looks like a "coin", but the back is suspiciously reminiscent of the Moskovich-412. Frankenstein is something. Listen to how the engine works, he tells me. The song yes? I listened. If the song, then this Stas Mikhailov in old age - cough and sporadic popping. And he doesn’t get up: and you won’t say that the girl is thirty years old. When I found out about the age of the girl, I asked to stop, because I would take my hand from here to the house. He went out on some desert and then walked for an hour to the nearest subway.
The resorts in it are all incredible. I went on a trip to Turkey for him. He talked to me for half a day about the best vacation in my life, about a space hotel, about a delicious Swedish table. He even had a saliva from the corner of his mouth. I bought it. We were thrown out of the plane almost with a parachute over some valley of death. In the middle of the lunar landscape - three collies and one hotel (so about space - not fooled). You can only get to the sea in dreams, a hotel in Kokuevo.
Swedish table - for workers and peasants: sausages, pasta and ketchup cups. I took a book of reviews from them. There, after a dozen inscriptions in Russian about "burn in hell" and "at your return to the Motherland, I will pass your coordinates to the missile troops", there was one, large, half-page: "VOSTORG!!Not with one, not with two, but with three crying signs, and all the big letters. A familiar name in the signature.
There were no decent facilities around the office at the time. I had to test my fate in the crowd. I always took him with me for lunch. What a stunning soup, how large the carrots were cut, how many selected potatoes, and the spice, the spice, he counted in a gastronomic half-blindness, over a plate with a puddle of sex cloth. Well, what a whitening, it is a miracle, not a whitening, the sweetest calf (every time in response to this the sweetest calf was surprised), the air tea, the juice, the juice of the streams, and so on. You listen to it, listen to it, and look - and the soup does not give the soap, and the white has failed and has not scratched the esophagus with the nails. And, most importantly, after lunch with him, I never got poisoned - apparently, the body in his presence released some protective substances.
It wasn’t a mask, that was interesting. 100% is not a mask. Everything is natural and organic. He was spared from life as a year-old child. Per as a child, he fell into a chain with tears of enthusiasm, weeped by the fans of Valery Obodzinsky, like Asterix - in a boiler with magical grease.
We called him “Mr. Endorphin.” In the smoking room, you could often hear: something fucking today, I'll go and talk to Endorphin. Mr. Endorphin shone with baldness like a lighthouse.
Do you know what is the funniest? He and his family are the same, under eternal phenazepam. He once invited me to visit. I quickly bought some undue cheap cake, waffle, well, with such first-class girls go on a date with the girls. We sat down at the table, with him, his wife and son, cut this wooden cake, squeezed two knives and bended one, laid out plates and went away. What a wonderful miracle, the child stumbled. What a wonderful shock, his wife picked up. Here are the fucks, they mock, I thought, and then I looked: no, people have natural ecstasy. When I said goodbye, I barely kissed my hands, all three.”
In this place, a hot dog was brought to a friend, and he finished the story.
“You asked me how I would eat it,” he said, “very simple: I’ll include Mr. Endorphin.”
A friend took a hot dog, brought it to his mouth and whispered:
"What a ruby sausage, with dust with heat, with spices. Oh, there is not only ketchup, from the most selected tomatoes, but also mustard, spicy, sweet. The coolest and freshest cake.
“The girl! “I cried through all the cafés to the owner of the establishment, I can also have a hot dog!”