Just just. A man passes by the church. is stopped. to be baptized. It rolls and runs through the four-band prospectus 50 meters from the pedestrian crossing. It has survived, what!

How my grandmother married me.

When my grandmother was 14, she went to church in a neighboring village. Returning home to her village, she told her mother that after the prayer, an adult woman approached her and asked her what her name was, what her name was and from what village. She then asked if she would marry her son Daniel. The girl responded with consent. My mother asked if she knew this woman. The girl replied that, of course, does not know. So how did you agree to answer unknown to whom? But you’ve always taught me how to talk polite to adults!

A week later the bridesmaids arrived and the wedding was held. In the end, they had 16 children. Some of them died in the First World War, others in the Second. As an adult, I knew three of her daughters (one of them my mother) and one son. The total number of grandchildren is unknown. I knew a small portion of them. The village of Tula. There is no more on the map. Although I remember her very well.

My grandfather’s granddaughter is almost 80 years old.

My wife went to work. I told the kids that now they’re going to have to work, too, with homework in mind. They silenced a little, then the younger asked:

When is the interview?

It was necessary to exchange a small amount of rubles for euros. I went to Sberbank, took the ticket, I waited. By the way, in addition to me there was another 5 person waiting, but on the box (as I later proved) was only I. The absurdity was that the box window was clogged, and no one was sitting there. After 10 minutes in empty waiting for nothing and no one, I go back to the machine with coupons and take advantage of a consultant's asset (it was loaded by a certain Gypsies at this time), dumbly take 4 new coupons in a row to the box office (I didn't have time anymore, because the consultant was upset).

It wasn’t even 40 seconds as the box window opened and my number lit up. I change and I leave.

How everything was simple.

I went to the local therapist for the first time. The doctor examines me, the nurse fills out the card and suddenly screams, “Oh, and at this address my Illyusha lives! Are you his sister?“”

So I found out that my husband was sleeping with the nurse.

I watched it all up to the age of 15: Requiem in a Dream, On the Needle, about Gilbert, the Witch of Blair, the Wise Will, yes, they made an impression, but they did not undermine the psyche.

Another thing when I was 5-6 years old I watched the hunters for ghosts. I was especially scared when the ghost came out of the crane. I was afraid to stay alone in the bathroom when the water poured out. But the apogee of my horror was the moment when my grandmother pushed my armor into the bathroom, closed the door and left. Suddenly, the crane groaned, began to shake and brown rusty water flowed from there. I cried and knocked at the door. This is a lifelong injury. :D

We sit in the coffee shop, discuss the results of experiments on readers - the research objects lie in front of us on the table.

A small puppy runs from the neighboring table, he looks like he is five years old, but he is already like a hundred (need to fit), so he does not ask, but even demands:

I want to see!

Since he is small, he will not understand the refined mat, so we answer briefly, "Don't, don't interfere, go to your parents," the fool shakes, pulls out of the table one reader and eats! He crashes into an unfortunate waitress and lies! A mouth on the floor, and the reader flies into the wall. Shut up! Screenshots are out! The fool whispers, we rise from behind the table - only to help the waitress get up, and not at all to kick off the fool, as his parents whisper, walking along the "busty" waitress and expressing an opinion about "fools" who "do not let children eat peacefully with their toys."

The pale, trembling daddy swirls five thousand and a couple of thousand onto the table and with the hurricane they and their mommy disappear from the coffee shop - catching up with their small asshole, but forgetting to pay for food...



But if he had just tried to apologize, he would have learned that the reader was already half dead, and it would have been enough for us to buy beer.

It is not so scary that a generation of fools has grown, it is scary that they are about to begin to give birth.

As you know, our pensions are paid from the salaries of working citizens. and anonymously. Who is paid from your personal salary is a big secret. The important thing is not you. This is not the biggest stupidity. We have a state with working pensioners. Imagine that people actually pay the so-called pension themselves without burdening the budget. For this, their beloved state with a "social" hunt once a year "indexes" their pension. Do you think it is proportional to how many people paid taxes? Naive people, be prepared. Even if a pensioner honestly gave the budget a million rubles, the state will push him from his generosity to retirement up to 3 points or no more than 243!!!! The ruble. They are not idiots, they are fools, because they have made very different rules for their loved ones. But it is a completely different story.

When you come to Peter, the Moscovites like to compare Peter and Moscow. And to compare Peter and the city where they were born - do not like.

In 1987, 25 schoolchildren from the Harvest High School (Kazakhstan) were encouraged with a free trip to Leningrad. I am lucky to be among them. We stand in front of the Ermitage. Just like in the mausoleum. Dozens of groups mixed at the entrance, guides argue, we are waiting for the second hour. And then one of our guys, Serega, approached the female administrator and said, “We are standing for the second hour, and we have, by the way, a Vietnamese in the delegation!” The woman said, “Where is he?” Sergey pointed to the only Kazakh guy in our group, Manas Kagenov, who really, as everyone immediately seemed, smiled at the Vietnamese. The administrator picked up Manas and asked him strictly, “Are you a Vietnamese?” He did not get confused and issued a tirade in Kazakh language: "Kezekte tұrudan шаршағanam sonša vietnam da, japon da болуғa kelsemine" (I am so tired of standing in a line that I am ready to be not only a Vietnamese, but also a Japanese). There was a pause. “Masha! The woman cried out, “Get out of this group, here’s a Vietnamese!” Under the jealous eyes of the other waiting people, we slipped into the building of the museum. Of course, the nickname “Vietnamese” was fixed on Manas forever.

I worked for the fourth year in a small factory. We mainly work on contracts. The essence of the work: received an order for several hundred thousand wunderwaffles. Cut - gathered - disassembled - drawn instructions - sent.



I am not saying that the company is prospering, but it is not miserable. There is work. You can almost always take overtime. Sometimes you have to work more to accomplish the plan.



We had two good freezers. One of them retired. No second brother. The second miller of the month two walked and dropped the direction on the brains: "Take another miller...". did not take. There were no vacancies. I do not know why. The second (and the only!) The freezer breaks the leg in two places. He goes to hospital. The company stood up. I did not fulfill my order on time. The penalty is 3 lemons.

Same with the designer. A young man came to work. An engineer from God. He asked for six months to raise his salary. If the workers are on the deal, this is on the salary. There was no opportunity to work out - he was fired, because two children were simply unrealistic to pull for 25,000 rubles. It was really a pity that he resigned, he was a great man. He was replaced by a student girl. No matter what the project is, it’s a cane on a cane. He was finally fired. But before that, she managed to draw something that in our three-dimensional reality did not want to be assembled. As a result, the company worked for two weeks to realize what could not be realized. As a result, again a fine for breaking deadlines, a warehouse overwhelmed by a marriage of five to six million.



I came to the HR department, and they say that the instruction from above is not to pay overtime, because they made a bunch of marriage. Was it my fault for this marriage? He wrote an application for dismissal.



Do-o-o-o-o w w w w w w w

I worked as an accountant in a scientific organization in a small town in the south of Russia. It was winter, it darkened very early. During the tea-drinking at work, the loudest news was discussed: a maniac broke up in the city. It attacks in the dark, in the area adjacent to the park. He beats women, rapes, takes bags and jewelry.

The women were found frozen in unconscious condition.



Among the employees was Svetlana, a complete but very nice woman, she alone raised a little daughter.



And here literally a few days later, Svetlana comes to work, and with laughter and tears tells:

“I go home after work, I rush to pick up my daughter from the kindergarten, and the shortest way through the edge of the park, past the monument and the ‘Eternal Fire’. Suddenly I hit my head and I fell. Strikes one after another, but I’m in a thick coat. I beat, I turn, the man grabbed my hair and beat me in the face. And I thought that my daughter was waiting for me, as she rattled and turned him over! And he sat on him on his horse, and grabbed his legs, and how could he beaten and scratched with both his fists? And I weigh a lot, he can’t break out! And then I hear a wild whisper and screams, it turns out, I was whispering all the time, and he started screaming when I realized that I couldn’t get out. There people fled, unless I was removed from him.”



This is how the maniac was stopped.



And Svetlana was saved by a puffy winter hat, the first blow did not silence her. And the horror of the thought that the daughter will remain an orphan.

In time planted corruptors to the elections give a good voting harvest.

The Apricot.

When my parents cut off a piece of land outside the city cemetery, a small tree grew on the site. The Apricot.
Her neighbor put her across the street.
After the war, this land was counted below the city line. None of None.
This is how the man wanted to carry out his limit of self-determination and then legalize it. But it happened differently.

When the country was a little hesitated by the war, these lands there, on top, decided to distribute housing to the frontmen in need. Which, like our large family, lived and worshiped in the semi-dubled dried chambers of the post-war city.

From year to year, the tree accidentally arrived to us grew, became stronger, did not require care. After all, for a long time, we did not have a water supply on the street.
Over time, the tree turned into a beautiful broken apricot.
But the fruits of it until they are fully ripe, although they were fragrant, but the taste was still bitter, and with acid. The bone, like every wild, was bitter too.
Therefore, no matter how much we, children, loved the early fruit, its fruits were almost not eaten green.
Later, already coming from the army, I understood the main merit of this tree.
Her invaluable contribution to the life of our family was in another.

Thro the summer, as if the chicken with its wings protected its chickens, the apricot with its branches with its leaves hid us from the burning southern sun.
We loved the whole family gathering at the table in the shadow of her crown. All summer family holidays were celebrated in the yard. From the smelly radio "Latvia" with a silenced background usually poured music. We, the children, ate, the parents with their friends drank, told about the war various cases.
After the “third table” came the “Kreminne” banks. The older brother played the favourite of the parents "Amur and Danube waves", then something more, and then we stretched the favourite in our family "Run the wanderer from Sakhalin". The tone was given by my mother. She had a beautiful ringing voice. Something in the middle between Ruslanova and Zykina.
For the ringing clean voice and for the place of birth, all neighbors and friends called her Kursk sloth.
With a whispering voice, with all my strength, together with all the orals and me.

And then the apricot began to get sick.
At first, in the heart of one of the previously splintered branches appeared a crust, then a crack appeared in the trunk of the tree itself. It did not last one year.
Year by year, the core of the trunk became thorn, the cracks grew up, the trunk fell.
Eventually, the armor became almost empty. The whole tree was held on the crust and a small layer of wood underneath it. The trunk became a deliberately curved foul tube.
The tree was large, and I was afraid that in a strong wind, part of the tree could break and fall on the veranda of the house. The consequences could be imagined.

Early in the spring, before going on a business trip for a few months from home, I cut off all the branches to remove the sailing. Sometimes there are strong storms.
It was left to spit the trunk with a few very thick branches.
Three months later, when I returned in the summer, the tree, or rather what was left of it, appeared before me as a huge, damaged green wild image.

Hundreds of shoots of green branches rushed up to the sun from a seemingly dead tree.
It is incredible.
But six years later, I had to rip this already hopelessly painful tree.
A tree that for more than 50 years has been an integral part of our already weakened family.
In the autumn, I found a man with a gasoline, and he gradually cut a rotting stem under the root.

In the spring, three small branches broke out of the dead pine.
They could be crushed with their feet or cut off with their hands in order to finally kill the remainder of life in this rotten pine. It’s simple and inconceivable to melt all of your past. to forget.

In fact, there was no such thing. He was eaten by a disease, turning his whole body into wood dust.
Only a small slice of the bark and a piece of living wood were the source from which these three grooves broke.
I had no hope that something could survive from this island of life, let alone to grow up.
“The living is the living, the dead is the dead,” I thought when I looked at the picture of a dead tree with sadness. Not determined to do what I had to do.
And when I had already taken my leg to put an end to my doubts once and for all, the mother of my wife suddenly looked out from the door of the house.

by Volodya! Leave it! She said. Let’s see what happens next.
Let’s go, Elena Vasilievna! I easily agreed with her.
It was like a stone fell from my chest.

So, from three branches, gradually leaving the strongest, setting stretches, we grew a new tree of young apricots.
Like her ancestor, despite her death, her offspring continues to delight the eye with their lush bloom in the early spring and abundance of fruit during the period of maturation. It fills the courtyard with coolness on hot summer days.
* * * *
P.S
The whole story in one picture.
http://vfl.ru/fotos/0d85903627190155.html

The evening news.
The most elegant event of the week in Moscow was recognized the wedding of a cleaner from "Gazprom" and a carrier from Sheremetyevo.

There is no healthy competition. All competitions are sick with a thirst for gain or fame.

My friend on the balcony has a plush Doberman. Today, a neighbor wrote a complaint to the district administration that he is aggressive. seriously.

I’m one of those who have a chair at home instead of a hangover, a bag with bags, a bowl in the oven, medicines in the refrigerator, and a coffee bank with nails.

How do you know Armenian so well?

My teacher at the school was an Armenian.