Daria Dontsova: The astral body of a bachelor. Astral body of a bachelor Read Dontsova's astral body of a bachelor in full

30.06.2019

Analysis of the finale of the First Sonata L

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Airbrushing on a car Airbrushing on a car fire

Darya Dontsova

Bachelor's Astral Body

"If you come to the first date with a brick in hand, then the girl will immediately understand: this guy has serious intentions - and will marry you ..."

Usually, while in the car, I listen to classical music, but now, turning on the radio, I obviously pressed my finger in the wrong direction, got on some other wave, heard this strange phrase uttered in a hoarse female voice, and was amazed. My rich imagination immediately unfolded the following picture: I was not Ivan Pavlovich Podushkin at all, but a certain fragile lady who saw a man with a heavy brick approaching her, dressed to smithereens ... What would I do in this case in the place of that beauties? The answer is unambiguous: I would immediately take off my high-heeled shoes and give a fight barefoot. The idea of a wedding would certainly not have entered my head. But I have been convinced more than once that the representative of the stronger sex is not given to understand the train of thought of the beautiful half of humanity.

- What does the brick have to do with it? - a thick bass came from the radio.

I wonder what the presenter will answer?

- Oh, these men ... - chirped the mezzo-soprano. - Do you remember the proverb? What should a real macho do?

“I don’t know,” her interlocutor admitted.

- Build a house, plant a tree, give birth to a son, - the balabolka listed. - Therefore, if you show up on a date with a brick, any woman will immediately realize that you are ready to build a mansion. So, boys, keep this in mind if you want to get the hand of your beloved. I assure you, take a stone with you - and none of us will stand.

Demyanka, who was lying next to her in the passenger seat, whined softly. I looked at the dog, shook my head and couldn't help commenting, addressing my four-legged companion:

- Wow ... The presenter, perhaps, should have said: “Take a brick in one hand, a sapling in the other, and hang a sign on your neck:“ I bought diapers ”. I am also confused by the words that a man should "give birth to a son." In my amateurish opinion, the use of the verb “to give birth” in this context is incorrect. Even with a great desire, neither I nor the other man will be able to give birth to a child. “Raising a son” is possible. And if we talk about stones in relation to the situation, then the ladies would have liked a diamond the size of a brick more. I hope I don't sound like a bore to you?

Demyanka, naturally, did not answer my question, but suddenly jumped up, put her front paws on the "torpedo" and howled. I, during my speech, turned away from the windshield, looked ahead again and - quickly pressed the brake pedal. The car stopped abruptly, I was thrown forward, the dog fell off the seat. I straightened up and took a deep breath. It's good that my foreign car has an emergency braking function, thanks to which I managed to avoid hitting a motorcycle that was lying right in the middle of the road. I wonder where the owner is?

I climbed out and shouted:

- Young man! Mister biker! Are you okay?

- No, - came from the roadside ditch.

I got nervous, went to the sound and saw in the ravine a figure in a protective suit of a motorcyclist ... bright pink.

- Girl, you feel bad? - I was frightened.

The kneeling man turned around. He had a thick black beard and mustache, and I gasped.

- So play it, - said the man.

- Sorry what? - I did not understand.

- Shuka! Shvolosh! The biker yelled. - Shelyush!

I began frantically searching my pockets for my mobile. Everything is clear: the poor man suffered a stroke while driving, the unfortunate man fell off a motorcycle, rolled into a ravine, his speech was impaired.

- Hey, where are you ringing? - unexpectedly, the victim said quite clearly.

“To the ambulance,” I explained. - Don't worry, they will help you.

- I'm Zhdorov! - the biker snapped. “I’ve lost the shellyush and I’m looking for it.” Do a favor, help! Linzhi fell out too, I don't see a fig.

- What have you lost? - I didn’t realize. And I heard in response:

- Linzhy and shelyusht. Eshklyuzhiv.

I hid my cell. So ... The guy is not sick, he just talks weird. Lost my lenses and something else. Says - shelush! What it is?

“I saw that shuda flew away,” the stranger muttered. - Shert! Chert! Do it for years! But Shashi is not. No Shashi! They do not run him.

And then Demyanka ran up to the ravine with a loud bark.

- Oh, shobaka! The biker exclaimed.

“She doesn't bite,” I warned. - Demianka is a kind dog, she just loves to bark.

- Sham like that, I like to scream, - the biker laughed.

I saw his open mouth and realized:

- Jaw! You've lost your false teeth!

- He shook, - the motorcyclist continued to have fun.

- Did you sneeze? - I specified.

“Yeah,” the biker nodded. - From the lice of the soul he shook, and the linzhs flew away into the ravine. I can't find it.

I began to stir up the fallen leaves with my hands. By the way, let me explain: it's January outside, but the snow hasn't fallen yet, the weather is more reminiscent of November.

“Shpashibo,” said the biker, rummaging through the dry leaves.

How long we tried to find false teeth, I can't say, it seemed to me like an eternity. In the end, I was chilled to the bone. A person who drives in a car does not wear warm boots with thick soles and a sheepskin coat, so I was wearing a thin leather jacket and suede shoes, no wonder my toes turned into popsicles.

- Oh, you shukin shyn! The biker suddenly howled. - Well done! Give, go shobaku!

I turned around and saw Demyanka - she was desperately waving her tail, holding a denture in her mouth.

- Hooray! - yelled the biker, snatched the dog's teeth and quickly stuffed them into his mouth.

- The prosthesis is dirty! - I could not resist. - It needs to be washed!

- Where do you see the crane? - the motorcyclist laughed.

“I have a bottle of water in my car,” I said.

“It's late,” the man replied. - Microbes die from dirt. You have a super dog, helped me out. Estimate, I have such a structure of the jaw that making a prosthesis is a terrible hemorrhoid. And I need a diamond one.

- Diamond? I asked in surprise.

The biker bared his teeth. I saw that two of his fangs were adorned with sparkling stones and coughed.

I handed the card to the stranger, who said:

- Well, I went! - stuffed it into his pocket.

Before I could say a word, the biker straddled his clunker, put a pink helmet adorned with black feathers on his head, started the engine and disappeared around the bend.

Demyanka burst into barking.

- I agree with you, - I nodded, - he forgot to say "thank you" to us. Okay, let's go home, I hope no more accidents happen.

My cell phone rang in my pocket, I took out the receiver and heard a pleasant soprano.

- Good day. Deign to call Ivan Pavlovich to the phone.

“I’m listening to you,” I replied.

- Are you Mr. Podushkin? Owner of a private detective agency? - asked the lady.

“That's right,” I confirmed.

- Your phone was given to me by one person, - the woman continued, - he said that you would help. I have a problem, but I don't want to discuss it over the phone. Do you, Ivan Pavlovich, have free time?

At this stage, I did not have clients, but I did not admit it, replied:

- There is a window today. Does fourteen o'clock suit you?

- Perfectly! - the lady was delighted. And she explained the reason for her joy: - I can go home today.

- You are not a Muscovite? - I was wary. - Sorry, I do not travel to other cities. Excuse me, what's your name?

- Oh, I forgot to introduce myself ... - the interlocutor was embarrassed. - My name is Ekaterina Sidorova. I live in the region, it is fifty-five kilometers from the capital. Boysk city. Have you heard of this?

- It was not possible, - I admitted, leaving on the expressway.

- No wonder, - Ekaterina sighed, - we have no special sights, an ordinary settlement. Is it far for you?

“No,” I replied.

- So you are going to help me? - the woman was delighted again.

“Let's meet first and you’ll tell me what happened,” I asked prudently. - Come by two o'clock.

As soon as I entered the apartment, Boris appeared in the hall and asked anxiously:

- What about our girl?

- The great veterinarian, to whom we went, did not find anything, - I said, - delivered the verdict: the dog is healthier than the boar.

Demyanka sat down, but immediately screamed and jumped on her paws.

- But she can't sit! - Boris exclaimed. - Didn't the doctor notice this?

“I drew the Aesculapius’s attention to this fact,” I sighed.

- What is he? Boris asked.

I took off my shoes and put on warm slippers.

- We did an ultrasound scan, passed all the tests and ...

- And? - Boris repeated.

I threw up my hands.

- Nothing. Demyanka's body works like a real Swiss watch, and the dog is in perfect condition from head to toe.

“Dogs have no heels,” said my secretary.

“Demyanka is healthy from nose to tip of tail,” I corrected with a grin. Then he picked up the ball lying by the hanger and threw it into the corridor.

Demyanka rushed with all her paws for the toy, and I looked at Boris and threw up my hands:

- A sick animal won't run around like that.

“That's right,” the assistant agreed. - The dog cannot sit, it is uncomfortable.

- The doctor suggested that Demyanka is stressed after childbirth, - I explained. - The veterinarian gave the phone number of a specialist who deals with such problems, here is his business card.

- I'll call right now, - Boris fussed. And then the doorbell rang.

I looked at the intercom screen, saw a very elderly lady in a dark dress with countless pearl jewelry and was surprised. Who is it? Why is there no outerwear on the stranger? It's cold outside.

- Whom do you want? Boris asked.

- You, - answered the voice slightly distorted by the intercom.

The secretary opened the door.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the old woman nodded majestically, swimming into the hall, “I’m Emma Emilievna Rosalius.

“It's very nice,” Boris and I said in unison.

“I live in an apartment below you,” the lady continued.

- Yes? - my assistant was surprised. - It seems that the apartment belongs to Nikolai Sergeevich Onufin, and he constantly lives abroad ...

“This is my son,” Emma Emilievna interrupted him. - Since yesterday I am your neighbor and I earnestly ask you not to make any noise. I am a professor, I work at home, I am writing a monograph.

- Ivan Pavlovich also does not like a mess, - put in his remark Boris.

- Put on socks on the child! - demanded Emma Emilievna.

- For what child? - I didn’t realize.

“On yours,” snapped the learned lady.

- Ivan Pavlovich is a bachelor, - explained my secretary, - he has no children.

“The absence of a wife does not mean the absence of children,” the guest remarked reasonably.

Suddenly from the corridor there was a rumble, ringing, stamping. A disheveled Demyanka rushed into the hall, dragging a toy in her teeth.

- Rat! - screamed the grandmother. - O great gods of Olympus!

“She’s plush,” I explained, and tried to take the toy mouse away from the dog.

Demyanka deftly dodged and ran away.

“There are no children in the apartment,” Boris repeated.

- On whom? - Boris was taken aback.

- On your dog, - the neighbor clarified.

“We have a girl,” I corrected.

- The gender of the source of the noise does not interest me, - the lady grunted, - just remove the obstacle to my creativity.

“I doubt that house shoes are produced for dogs,” drawled Boris.

- There is a store "Quiet House", - said the elderly lady, - there you will get what you need. I don’t want to hear the stamping! I am working! You have two hours. If after this time the discomfort that bothers me does not disappear, I will call Grigory Alekseevich.

Having spoken, Emma Emilievna turned around and left, forgetting to say goodbye.

“I have no idea,” the secretary shrugged.

- Hmm, there is, it turns out, in the world some great and terrible Grigory Alekseevich ... - I laughed.

“Some people get weird with age,” sighed my assistant. - Well, how can she be annoyed by the running of Demyanka? The house has excellent soundproofing. And now it's five o'clock, that is, a clear day, and not late evening or night. I guess we don’t have to obey the order of the old lady. Why go to the "Quiet House" store? At this time, we have every right to even work with a puncher.

- It is five minutes to one? - I came to my senses. - I have to go, the client will appear soon.

- Go, Ivan Pavlovich, and I will remove the fragments of the vase, which Demyanka seems to have cocked, - Boris sulked.

- Why do you think that the dog broke some thing? - I was surprised.

“Before she burst into the hall, there was a crash and a ringing from the corridor,” Boris reminded. - I believe it was the floor vase that stood at the entrance to your office.

I was delighted:

- Blue-gray pot-bellied bucket, which depicts don’t understand who with triangular heads?

Boris went into the corridor and reported from there, raising his voice slightly:

- Alas, yes.

- Well! I exclaimed. “This item was acquired by Nicoletta at a charity event that her sworn friend Koka was hosting to save Australian zebras.

Boris returned to the hall and asked in surprise:

- Do zebras live in Australia?

- Of course not, - I amused. “But that didn't bother Koku. She rented a restaurant, called journalists, various celebrities, as well as artists and sculptors. Few famous artists donated their works, celebrities bought them, money donated to the Australia Zebra Rescue Fund, newspapers and magazines wrote about the event. The stars came to the party to appear in the press, painters and sculptors pursued the same goal, Koka longed for the fame of a benefactor, this is now fashionable. All the guests were satisfied, but no one knows what the zebras feel. Nicoletta has acquired an extremely ugly vase. Mamma did not want to put it in her mansion, but she didn’t raise her hand to throw away the “beauty”. And what did she do?

“I gave it to my son,” Boris chuckled.

- Exactly! I nodded. “Unfortunately, my birthday fell on the day after the event, and my kind mother solemnly handed me a vase with the words:“ Vanya! This is unique, the work of the great Rodin, I ordered him especially for you. "

- Did the Frenchman sculpt vases? - Boris was surprised. - I've always considered him a sculptor. And François Auguste Rodin passed away at the beginning of the twentieth century.

“You're right about everything,” I said. - But it is not worth explaining such subtleties, as well as anything in general, to Nicoletta. Naturally, I had to take a present and be grateful. I placed the vase in the hallway in the hope that it would break soon.

- I noticed a long time ago: the more terrible a thing, the longer it serves its owner, - Boris chuckled. - But in the end, the "beauty" completed her earthly journey.

“I am extremely glad of this circumstance,” I smiled, removing my jacket from the hanger. - Everything, I have to go to the office.

- My father Igor Semenovich Sidorov was killed, - the potential client began to speak, sitting down in a chair, - and the local detectives do not admit this. At first, they even hinted that they had committed suicide. And this is absolutely impossible, suicide is out of the question. I have no complaints about the Boisk police chief, he is a good man ... Oh, I forgot to say: my dad was the rector of the local church, his middle name is Father Dionysius. So suicide is out of the question. And I don't believe in accidental death. But you see, the chief police officer of our neighborhood has a higher leadership, and so they are struggling to present the death of the priest as an accident. Why? They don't want noise. Sorry, I'm probably confused about it. I'm very nervous ...

I listened intently to the visitor, whose age was difficult to determine. Sidorova's face was without wrinkles, but the clothes did not fit the young woman in any way - Catherine was wearing a long, almost toe-length, dark gray dress that looked like a hoodie, buttoned at the throat with buttons. Her hair is styled in the hairstyle that ballerinas and circus performers love, that is, gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head. No jewelry, no makeup. And the jacket she took off in the hallway is the simplest one. And boots with flat, thick soles.

“Suicide is out of the question,” the client repeated.

- Why did the police decide it was suicide? I asked.

- Now I will explain in detail, - Catherine promised.

- All attention, - I nodded and began to listen to her leisurely story.

... Thirty years ago, the town of Boyk near Moscow was a village in which several old women lived. They existed thanks to the church working in the village - one stood by the candle box, the other served as a cleaner, the third was spinning in the refectory. Grannies had a penny of money, but they ate at the temple and were happy with their fate. There was another church five kilometers from Boysk, where a very young priest served, and there were more parishioners there. In Soviet times, attendance at divine services was not welcome, but local believers did not give a damn about the indignation of the communists, they constantly went to the service of a young priest in the village of Markovo. And the temple in Boyk was attended by a few. There, old father Vladimir served as the abbot, for whom it was high time to retire. Father Vladimir lived poorly, had no children. His wife, mother Irina, a wonderful hostess, got up at four in the morning and herself managed the cow, goat, chickens, a vegetable garden and a greenhouse.

Why the church in Boysk, where on Sunday at most fifteen people gathered for the liturgy, was not closed, no one knew. But the temple worked. The vestments of Father Vladimir were pretty worn out, for the sake of economy, the father did not light the electricity, he served by candlelight, of which few burned. In winter, it was cold in the church - the boiler room worked on coal, and it was expensive, so they practically did not heat it. But thanks to Mother Irina, the priest did not starve. Local old women and beggars could dine in the refectory, there was always hot soup and bread.

One rainy autumn morning, mother asked her husband to go to the temple in rubber boots. But Father Vladimir refused, said that it was impossible to conduct the service in an indecent form, and, as always, he put on his only black shoes with thin soles. A huge puddle formed in the courtyard of the church, the priest got his feet wet and stood for two hours on the stone floor in wet shoes in a barely heated room. Father Vladimir was then seventy years old, apparently, his body was weakened. The next day he came down with pneumonia, and a week later he died. A young priest from a church in the village of Markovo, where the bulk of the local parishioners attended, came to serve his funeral service. After the funeral, he told Mother Irina that the authorities were trying their best to close the church in Boysk and most likely they would succeed.

The next day, Mother Irina unexpectedly left for Moscow, which immensely surprised her fellow villagers - in their memory, she did not ride further than the village of Markovo. The widow was absent for a week, and when she returned, she made everyone happy with the news: a new priest was about to arrive in Boysk, a very young, recent graduate of the seminary. And soon Father Dionysius actually appeared. He arrived not alone, but with a baby, a little girl Katya, a few months old. Local old women began to whisper. Where is the child's mother? Why did the father come only with his daughter? Why didn’t he start serving at once, but was sitting in the hut? For what reason did Mother Irina not vacate the parish house for the new abbot?

Ten days later, the oldest resident of Boisk, Matryona Filippovna Reutova, knocked on the hut to Mother Irina and asked without much ceremony:

- Do not make noise! The widow spoke sternly. And she explained: - Father Dionysius fell ill, fell with a fever. And his daughter fell ill. They have severe flu.

- Where is his wife? - Matryona could not cope with curiosity.

“She died in childbirth,” Mother Irina answered sadly, “Father Dionysius was left alone with the baby in his arms. He will recover and start serving. And I will help him with Katyusha.

Father Dionysius really got to his feet and got down to work. Mother Irina began to take care of Father Vladimir's successor and the girl.

In the spring, drunken guys with machine guns rushed into the church in Markov during the service and shot the parishioners, killed the priest. Leaving, they threw grenades into the altar. The dilapidated building of the church collapsed from the explosions. The criminals were quickly identified, the surviving parishioners unanimously said to the investigator:

- These are the brothers of Mitka the Skew. He wanted to get married, but the priest refused him, explained: "Great Lent is coming, we must wait." The bandit got angry, yelled: "Go tambourine what you need, otherwise it will be worse, I do not care about your post." The abbot is again about the fact that he cannot perform the ceremony. The scythe got mad and did what he did.

The church in Markov was not restored, and people began to go to Boysk. Father Dionysius turned out to be very enterprising, he had acquaintances in Moscow, wealthy businessmen, who generously donated money for the church. Then, not far from the village, a large foreign company built a chocolate factory.

Ten years later, the once wretched village became unrecognizable, Boyk turned into a pretty town. The church was repaired, the domes shone with new gilding, there were many parishioners. Matushka Irina still ran the household of Father Dionysius, raised Katya and taught at Sunday school. And father, in the world Igor Semenovich Sidorov, founded a cultural center. Now it is visited by many children and adults, different circles work for them: singing, dancing, cooking. The priest helped children from disadvantaged families, during the holidays he always opened something like a camp for them. There was a help room at the church, where a psychologist sat, with whom both parishioners and non-believers could discuss various problems. Thanks to Father Dionysius, the church became very popular, it was a place where people went in sorrow and joy. Unfortunately, mother Irina passed away, but she saw the heyday of Boysk and said shortly before her death to her pupil:

- I will see Father Vladimir in the Kingdom of God and tell him whom the Lord sent to strengthen our church, take care of your father.

Katya married the parish headman, she has three children. But the young woman was not just a housewife, she helped her father, headed the Sunday school, and led circles.

And everything was going well until the day when Father Dionysius was found dead at the foot of the bell tower. The expert, without thinking twice, announced: this is suicide. But none of the parishioners believed him. A deeply religious priest could not commit suicide! The outraged people, disagreeing with the hasty conclusion of the criminalist, went to the police in a crowd and demanded additional investigation. The pathologist was ordered to examine the body again, and he delivered the verdict: Father Dionysius had a stroke. At the moment of the brainstroke, the priest, who was in the bell tower, staggered and fell down. There was no suicide, there was an accident, the priest can be sung.

The people calmed down, wept at the funeral. But Katya grew anxious in her soul, and questions swarmed in her head. Why did dad climb the bell tower, and even late at night? What was he doing there? Is this connected with the arrival of a man who visited the priest shortly before his death? ..

- Were you surprised that someone looked to Father Dionysius? Didn't he like guests? - I specified, interrupting the narrator.

- Guests ... - said Ekaterina. - The door in our house did not close. In those years, when mobile communication had not yet appeared, they resorted to if they needed to call. For example, someone is ill and it is necessary to call an ambulance. Father, however, had a telephone; it was given to Father Vladimir. And in general, if anything was needed, people turned to Father Dionysius. People went to him for consolation, advice, support, blessing. In short, the path to the father's house did not overgrow, he did not refuse anyone. While mother Irina lived, she regulated the flow of the suffering. The father was perspicacious, and if he advised something to someone, it was better to obey him. Those who acted contrary to it, then bitterly repented. Dad knew the past, saw the future.

“He had psychic abilities,” I said.

Catherine crossed herself.

- Not! God forbid you to consider Father Dionysius a sorcerer, a witcher. He just looked at the person, and his whole life was revealed to him. Once a parishioner approached him and asked to marry her. Dad asked whom the girl chose as a life partner, darkened and advised her: "Wait a couple of years." - "Why?" She wondered. “Just wait,” my father repeated. - You explained to me that you met your betrothed on the Internet. You should not run down the aisle without recognizing a man properly. Where are you in a hurry? Wedding is a crucial step. Chat with the groom longer. And do not formalize the marriage in the registry office while, do not live with him before the wedding together. My blessing is not for you. " And the girl really wanted to get married, and without listening to the priest, she went to apply. But it was not possible to carry out the plan - on the way to the registry office, the bride fell, broke both legs, and ended up in the hospital.

“It happens,” I nodded. - Some people have a well-developed premonition, your papa felt ...

- You didn’t listen to the end, - the client stopped me. - The groom heard from the doctor that the bride will have to be treated for a long time, probably, she will remain lame, and left her. A couple of years later, the girl married the doctor who treated her, and soon found out the shocking news: the former groom signed with another, and six months after the wedding he killed his wife in a fit of jealousy, the guy turned out to be mentally ill. It turns out that my father saved his parishioner from a great disaster. So, actually, about the guests in the dad's house. Mother Irina tried to restrain the flow of visitors, but she did not succeed. After her death, I began to play the role of Cerberus. First of all, I put up a sign on the door: “Father Dionysius receives the afflicted on Tuesday and Thursday, from 1 pm to 5 pm. We kindly ask you to make an appointment in advance and do not disturb the priest at any other time. " At first the people grumbled, people got used to jerking the priest at any moment. But then everyone calmed down, began to come by appointment. My hut stands opposite my father's. On November 10, I left my dad at nine in the evening, asking him to lock the door behind me. She returned to her room, began to wash the dishes. We have a window in the kitchen, I was wiping the dishes and, no, no, I was looking at the street. And there, right next to the gate, a large lantern was burning, I could clearly see my father's yard and the entrance to his house. And at some point she noticed that a young man had climbed onto the porch, his father let him in. I got angry and wanted to go and drive out the intruder. I also thought, I remember that some people are extremely selfish and unceremonious, so he needs it, and that's it ... But the youngest son cried - he fell, broke his nose, and I rushed to the child. And when I looked out the window again, I saw that my father and that guy were already walking down the street towards the temple. I saw their backs. Father in his old coat and skufeyka. And then the thought occurred to me: it was probably Pasha Vetrov who ran to dad. His father became very ill, caught the flu, and, apparently, Philip Petrovich became very ill, so the son hurried to the priest. Oh, I felt so ashamed that I got angry! So I went to read the Three Canons. And in the morning dad was found at the bell tower.

Darya Dontsova

Bachelor's Astral Body

"If you come to the first date with a brick in hand, then the girl will immediately understand: this guy has serious intentions - and will marry you ..."

- What does the brick have to do with it? - a thick bass came from the radio.

I wonder what the presenter will answer?

- Oh, these men ... - chirped the mezzo-soprano. - Do you remember the proverb? What should a real macho do?

“I don’t know,” her interlocutor admitted.

Demyanka, who was lying next to her in the passenger seat, whined softly. I looked at the dog, shook my head and couldn't help commenting, addressing my four-legged companion:

I climbed out and shouted:

- Young man! Mister biker! Are you okay?

- No, - came from the roadside ditch.

I got nervous, went to the sound and saw in the ravine a figure in a protective suit of a motorcyclist ... bright pink.

- Girl, you feel bad? - I was frightened.

The kneeling man turned around. He had a thick black beard and mustache, and I gasped.

- So play it, - said the man.

- Sorry what? - I did not understand.

- Shuka! Shvolosh! The biker yelled. - Shelyush!

- Hey, where are you ringing? - unexpectedly, the victim said quite clearly.

“To the ambulance,” I explained. - Don't worry, they will help you.

- I'm Zhdorov! - the biker snapped. “I’ve lost the shellyush and I’m looking for it.” Do a favor, help! Linzhi fell out too, I don't see a fig.

- What have you lost? - I didn’t realize. And I heard in response:

- Linzhy and shelyusht. Eshklyuzhiv.

I hid my cell. So ... The guy is not sick, he just talks weird. Lost my lenses and something else. Says - shelush! What it is?

“I saw that shuda flew away,” the stranger muttered. - Shert! Chert! Do it for years! But Shashi is not. No Shashi! They do not run him.

And then Demyanka ran up to the ravine with a loud bark.

- Oh, shobaka! The biker exclaimed.

“She doesn't bite,” I warned. - Demianka is a kind dog, she just loves to bark.

- Sham like that, I like to scream, - the biker laughed.

I saw his open mouth and realized:

- Jaw! You've lost your false teeth!

- He shook, - the motorcyclist continued to have fun.

- Did you sneeze? - I specified.

“Yeah,” the biker nodded. - From the lice of the soul he shook, and the linzhs flew away into the ravine. I can't find it.

I began to stir up the fallen leaves with my hands. By the way, let me explain: it's January outside, but the snow hasn't fallen yet, the weather is more reminiscent of November.

“Shpashibo,” said the biker, rummaging through the dry leaves.

- Oh, you shukin shyn! The biker suddenly howled. - Well done! Give, go shobaku!

I turned around and saw Demyanka - she was desperately waving her tail, holding a denture in her mouth.

- Hooray! - yelled the biker, snatched the dog's teeth and quickly stuffed them into his mouth.

- The prosthesis is dirty! - I could not resist. - It needs to be washed!

- Where do you see the crane? - the motorcyclist laughed.

“I have a bottle of water in my car,” I said.

- Diamond? I asked in surprise.

The biker bared his teeth. I saw that two of his fangs were adorned with sparkling stones and coughed.

- The most fashionable feature of the season, - the biker laughed. - I made it a brand, I tried for Ninki's clinic. And she is a vulture. I received free advertising, and even a basket of ideas, so what? Urulila to Stepan. I'm shocked! Do you have a business card? Come here.

I handed the card to the stranger, who said:

- Well, I went! - stuffed it into his pocket.

Before I could say a word, the biker straddled his clunker, put a pink helmet adorned with black feathers on his head, started the engine and disappeared around the bend.

Demyanka burst into barking.

- I agree with you, - I nodded, - he forgot to say "thank you" to us. Okay, let's go home, I hope no more accidents happen.

Chapter 1

"If you come to the first date with a brick in hand, then the girl will immediately understand: this guy has serious intentions - and will marry you ..."

- What does the brick have to do with it? - a thick bass came from the radio.

I wonder what the presenter will answer?

- Oh, these men ... - chirped the mezzo-soprano. - Do you remember the proverb? What should a real macho do?

“I don’t know,” her interlocutor admitted.

Demyanka, who was lying next to her in the passenger seat, whined softly. I looked at the dog, shook my head and couldn't help commenting, addressing my four-legged companion:

I climbed out and shouted:

- Young man! Mister biker! Are you okay?

- No, - came from the roadside ditch.

I got nervous, went to the sound and saw in the ravine a figure in a protective suit of a motorcyclist ... bright pink.

- Girl, you feel bad? - I was frightened.

The kneeling man turned around. He had a thick black beard and mustache, and I gasped.

- So play it, - said the man.

- Sorry what? - I did not understand.

- Shuka! Shvolosh! The biker yelled. - Shelyush!

- Hey, where are you ringing? - unexpectedly, the victim said quite clearly.

“To the ambulance,” I explained. - Don't worry, they will help you.

- I'm Zhdorov! - the biker snapped. “I’ve lost the shellyush and I’m looking for it.” Do a favor, help! Linzhi fell out too, I don't see a fig.

- What have you lost? - I didn’t realize. And I heard in response:

- Linzhy and shelyusht. Eshklyuzhiv.

I hid my cell. So ... The guy is not sick, he just talks weird. Lost my lenses and something else. Says - shelush! What it is?

“I saw that shuda flew away,” the stranger muttered. - Shert! Chert! Do it for years! But Shashi is not. No Shashi! They do not run him.

And then Demyanka ran up to the ravine with a loud bark.

- Oh, shobaka! The biker exclaimed.

“She doesn't bite,” I warned. - Demianka is a kind dog, she just loves to bark.

- Sham like that, I like to scream, - the biker laughed.

I saw his open mouth and realized:

- Jaw! You've lost your false teeth!

- He shook, - the motorcyclist continued to have fun.

- Did you sneeze? - I specified.

“Yeah,” the biker nodded. - From the lice of the soul he shook, and the linzhs flew away into the ravine. I can't find it.

I began to stir up the fallen leaves with my hands. By the way, let me explain: it's January outside, but the snow hasn't fallen yet, the weather is more reminiscent of November.

“Shpashibo,” said the biker, rummaging through the dry leaves.

- Oh, you shukin shyn! The biker suddenly howled. - Well done! Give, go shobaku!

I turned around and saw Demyanka - she was desperately waving her tail, holding a denture in her mouth.

- Hooray! - yelled the biker, snatched the dog's teeth and quickly stuffed them into his mouth.

- The prosthesis is dirty! - I could not resist. - It needs to be washed!

- Where do you see the crane? - the motorcyclist laughed.

“I have a bottle of water in my car,” I said.

- Diamond? I asked in surprise.

The biker bared his teeth. I saw that two of his fangs were adorned with sparkling stones and coughed.

I handed the card to the stranger, who said:

- Well, I went! - stuffed it into his pocket.

Before I could say a word, the biker straddled his clunker, put a pink helmet adorned with black feathers on his head, started the engine and disappeared around the bend.

Demyanka burst into barking.

- I agree with you, - I nodded, - he forgot to say "thank you" to us. Okay, let's go home, I hope no more accidents happen.

My cell phone rang in my pocket, I took out the receiver and heard a pleasant soprano.

- Good day. Deign to call Ivan Pavlovich to the phone.

“I’m listening to you,” I replied.

- Are you Mr. Podushkin? Owner of a private detective agency? - asked the lady.

“That's right,” I confirmed.

At this stage, I did not have clients, but I did not admit it, replied:

- There is a window today. Does fourteen o'clock suit you?

- Perfectly! - the lady was delighted. And she explained the reason for her joy: - I can go home today.

- You are not a Muscovite? - I was wary. - Sorry, I do not travel to other cities. Excuse me, what's your name?

- It was not possible, - I admitted, leaving on the expressway.

- No wonder, - Ekaterina sighed, - we have no special sights, an ordinary settlement. Is it far for you?

“No,” I replied.

- So you are going to help me? - the woman was delighted again.

“Let's meet first and you’ll tell me what happened,” I asked prudently. - Come by two o'clock.

Chapter 2

As soon as I entered the apartment, Boris appeared in the hall and asked anxiously:

- What about our girl?

- The great veterinarian, to whom we went, did not find anything, - I said, - delivered the verdict: the dog is healthier than the boar.

Demyanka sat down, but immediately screamed and jumped on her paws.

- But she can't sit! - Boris exclaimed. - Didn't the doctor notice this?

“I drew the Aesculapius’s attention to this fact,” I sighed.

- What is he? Boris asked.

I took off my shoes and put on warm slippers.

- We did an ultrasound scan, passed all the tests and ...

- And? - Boris repeated.

I threw up my hands.

- Nothing. Demyanka's body works like a real Swiss watch, and the dog is in perfect condition from head to toe.

“Dogs have no heels,” said my secretary.

“Demyanka is healthy from nose to tip of tail,” I corrected with a grin. Then he picked up the ball lying by the hanger and threw it into the corridor.

Demyanka rushed with all her paws for the toy, and I looked at Boris and threw up my hands:

- A sick animal won't run around like that.

“That's right,” the assistant agreed. - The dog cannot sit, it is uncomfortable.

- The doctor suggested that Demyanka is stressed after childbirth, - I explained. - The veterinarian gave the phone number of a specialist who deals with such problems, here is his business card.

- I'll call right now, - Boris fussed. And then the doorbell rang.

I looked at the intercom screen, saw a very elderly lady in a dark dress with countless pearl jewelry and was surprised. Who is it? Why is there no outerwear on the stranger? It's cold outside.

- Whom do you want? Boris asked.

- You, - answered the voice slightly distorted by the intercom.

The secretary opened the door.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the old woman nodded majestically, swimming into the hall, “I’m Emma Emilievna Rosalius.

“It's very nice,” Boris and I said in unison.

“I live in an apartment below you,” the lady continued.

- Yes? - my assistant was surprised. - It seems that the apartment belongs to Nikolai Sergeevich Onufin, and he constantly lives abroad ...

“This is my son,” Emma Emilievna interrupted him. - Since yesterday I am your neighbor and I earnestly ask you not to make any noise. I am a professor, I work at home, I am writing a monograph.

- Ivan Pavlovich also does not like a mess, - put in his remark Boris.

- Put on socks on the child! - demanded Emma Emilievna.

- For what child? - I didn’t realize.

“On yours,” snapped the learned lady.

- Ivan Pavlovich is a bachelor, - explained my secretary, - he has no children.

“The absence of a wife does not mean the absence of children,” the guest remarked reasonably.

Suddenly from the corridor there was a rumble, ringing, stamping. A disheveled Demyanka rushed into the hall, dragging a toy in her teeth.

- Rat! - screamed the grandmother. - O great gods of Olympus!

“She’s plush,” I explained, and tried to take the toy mouse away from the dog.

Demyanka deftly dodged and ran away.

“There are no children in the apartment,” Boris repeated.

“But a dog lives here,” said Mrs. Rosalius, “which is much worse than a small child with only two legs. The dog has four of them, and they all stomp. Put your slippers on him. Silently running.

- On whom? - Boris was taken aback.

- On your dog, - the neighbor clarified.

“We have a girl,” I corrected.

- The gender of the source of the noise does not interest me, - the lady grunted, - just remove the obstacle to my creativity.

“I doubt that house shoes are produced for dogs,” drawled Boris.

Having spoken, Emma Emilievna turned around and left, forgetting to say goodbye.

- Who is Grigory Alekseevich? I asked. - Borya, do you know?

“I have no idea,” the secretary shrugged.

- Hmm, there is, it turns out, in the world some great and terrible Grigory Alekseevich ... - I laughed.

- It is five minutes to one? - I came to my senses. - I have to go, the client will appear soon.

- Go, Ivan Pavlovich, and I will remove the fragments of the vase, which Demyanka seems to have cocked, - Boris sulked.

- Why do you think that the dog broke some thing? - I was surprised.

“Before she burst into the hall, there was a crash and a ringing from the corridor,” Boris reminded. - I believe it was the floor vase that stood at the entrance to your office.

I was delighted:

- Blue-gray pot-bellied bucket, which depicts don’t understand who with triangular heads?

Boris went into the corridor and reported from there, raising his voice slightly:

- Alas, yes.

- Well! I exclaimed. “This item was acquired by Nicoletta at a charity event that her sworn friend Koka was hosting to save Australian zebras.

Boris returned to the hall and asked in surprise:

- Do zebras live in Australia?

“I gave it to my son,” Boris chuckled.

- Did the Frenchman sculpt vases? - Boris was surprised. - I've always considered him a sculptor. And François Auguste Rodin passed away at the beginning of the twentieth century.

- I noticed a long time ago: the more terrible a thing, the longer it serves its owner, - Boris chuckled. - But in the end, the "beauty" completed her earthly journey.

“I am extremely glad of this circumstance,” I smiled, removing my jacket from the hanger. - Everything, I have to go to the office.

Chapter 3