Monologues of pop artists. Semyon Altov

When you think about Semyon Altov, what is the first thing that comes to your mind? Of course, his manner of speaking. It is she, in part, that makes this satirist writer so hilarious and interesting. Of course stories and monologues by Semyon Altov interesting in themselves, they are funny, unusual and charged with a lot of positive energy.

We decided to place the stories and monologues of Semyon Altov on our website precisely because his work deserves the attention of the audience. If you like to read humorous stories, then you will definitely like the works of Semyon Altov, and if you are already a fan of his work, then you will be happy to read the stories in this section.

Witness.

What she said? Can't make out a damn thing. Who flies, where flies, what flies ... What did she say ?!
I myself have something with diction. Only when I speak. When I am silent, my speech is impeccable. And in public I am worried, a mess of words. Happiness when you are understood, right? I'm in misfortune. But there are pluses.
Thirty years ago, you were not yet in the world, I am sitting in a company. It seems everyone drank, ate up, - it's time to leave. Music screams. To be heard, he muttered so loudly:
"All the best, I'm leaving!"
And then the lady on the left gets up: "With pleasure!"
She understood - I invite you to dance.
And how I dance, you must see it! He trampled on her feet, and in order to distract, I say, they say, a fisherman, we caught bream here not by measure.
We danced. And already when there was no music, I pulled myself together and clearly said:
- I don't invite anyone to dance, it's time to go home!
This lady says: “Can I call you about the bream?
- I do not have a phone. (And fig when I got it!)
- How not?
- As almost all do not.
- But the phone is more convenient!
- Who can argue!
She says, “Write down my phone number. Call.
I thought she was baldela in the dance, she looks at me.
I'm calling. It turned out - the wife of the head of the telephone exchange! And without a queue, without bribes, they will play off the mother-of-pearl apparatus! He danced dashingly!
What does it mean in time to whom it is necessary to say illegible!
Once upon a time it is not necessary. In the store I ask for a hundred grams of cheese - they weigh two hundred lard.
I complain to the doctor about the tooth on the right - it is removed from the left.
And they beat me up. There is something to remember…. At the birthday party, he said to a neighbor, "please, serve a duck." So her brothers almost killed! What did they hear?
There are a lot of inconveniences! You ask for a ticket to Moscow - they give it to Samara. You have to fly. There they mistaken for someone, take them, give them drink, put them to sleep with an elderly woman, and she has indigestion. You must hear it! But I am silent. If you open your mouth, they will also kill instead of someone.
Such is the diction….
The journalist tortured: "Do not be afraid, public opinion poll, how do you like the president in general?"
I say "I won't speak for myself, but public opinion is such that I don't want to live."
Then I read in the newspaper: "the people in general are optimistic"
Diction problems, problems. And that who has normal diction, no problems?
At least I have pluses.
I work part-time ... You will never guess by anyone ... as a Witness.
In court, I swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth. I say her, but such a porridge! Both the defense and the accusation are interpreted in their own way, to whom it is convenient. Thanks to me, how many people were released ... True, there are enough innocent people in the village.
At the same time, it is convenient that I speak the truth, and nothing but the truth ...
What did she say there, do you understand? ...

Housekeeper on the balcony

Thinker

Feathered

Impossible man

Sensation

In a light bulb

Cyrus carving

Shooting sparrow

Sexanfu

Surrounded by

Sense of taste

Briefing for unmarried

Set

Breadwinner

Tsunamochka

Eight and a half

Firebird

Horizons

Somersault of fate

Opener

How to get out of a hangover alive

If only that!

Wolves and Sheep

Summer vacation time

Blood transfusion

Plastic surgery

Cucumbers

There was a bird in a cage. It used to be, from the morning, as the sun glanced, it twitches so merrily, - asleep, and pulls her to strangle! Damn Kenyreechka! No, she sings amazingly, but you must have a conscience early in the day! We don't live in the Philharmonic after all!

From a dream, the owners began to cover with obscene expressions, which lay on the bird's whistle, and, as the musicians say, a rare, edrena root, a recitative speaker formed, as the musicians say.

And then the owners, the canine owners, as advised, covered the cage with a dark cloth. And a miracle happened. Kenyreechka shut up. The light does not penetrate into the cage, how does she know that it is daybreak there? She keeps her mouth shut in a rag. That is, the bird turned out with all the amenities. They will take off the rag, - he sings, thrown over, - is silent.

Agree, it's a pleasure to keep such a kenyreik at home.

Somehow they forgot to take off the rag - the bird didn't make a sound for a day. The second day - no peep! The owners couldn't get enough of it. And there is a bird, and silence in the house.

And the kenyreechka in the darkness was confused: you won't understand where the day is, where the night is, you still chirp at the wrong time. In order not to get into a stupid position, the bird stopped singing altogether.

One day the kenyreechka is peeling sunflower seeds for himself in the dark, and suddenly, for no reason, no reason, the rag fell off. The sun will splash in your eyes! Kenyreechka gasped, closed her eyes, then shed tears, cleared her throat and began to whistle a forgotten song.

She stretched out like a string, bulged her eyes, shudders with a little body, catches the buzz. Wow, she gave it out! She sang about freedom, about the sky, in a word, about everything that is drawn to sing about behind bars. And suddenly he sees - mo! The cage door is open!

Freedom! Kenyreechka sang about her, and she - here she is! I flew out of the cage and let's go around the room with pretzels! Sat down, happy, on the windowsill to take a breath - ... dear mother! The window is open! There is freedom, there is no freer! A piece of blue sky is inserted into the window, and a dove sits in it with a cornice above. Free!

Gray! Thick! He should have cooed about freedom, but he sleeps, you old fool! I wonder why only those who do not have it sing about freedom?

Kenyreyka jumped up, and what does she see with horror ?! Behind the glass on the cornice sits a ginger cat and, like a true lover of bird singing, licks its lips in anticipation.

Kenyreikino's heart darted into the heels and there "doo-doo-doo" ... A little more and would freely fall into the cat's mouth. What the hell is freedom to be eaten?

Pah-pah-pah!

The kenyreyka shot back into her cage with a bullet, closed the door with her paw, and slid the latch with her beak. Ugh! Quiet in the cage! The grill is strong! The bird can't fly out, but the cat can't get it either! Kenyreyka chirped for joy. Freedom of speech in the absence of freedom of movement is not such a bad thing, if anyone understands! And the kenyreechka sang in the face of the cat everything she thought! And although the cat did not see her through the glass, he heard, you bastard, everything through the window. Because tears welled up in my eyes. So it's done! When there is no way to eat, it remains to admire the art.

Kenyreechka, I tell you, sang like never before! Because the closeness of the cat gave birth to inspiration, the grid guaranteed freedom of creativity. And these are two necessary conditions for the disclosure of a creative personality.

________________________________________________________________________

Housekeeper on the balcony

Shtukin was awakened by a strange sound. The balcony was clearly scratched, although for the winter it was sealed at its best. This means that they could only get to the balcony from the street. How is it from the street when the fifth floor? Maybe the bird was shuffling its leg in search of food?

A sparrow would never rattle his paws like that ... "A heron, or what? -That was, Shtukin thought hard from his sleep, - now I will hit her right in ..." He never saw a heron, so he vaguely imagined what she could embed. Shtukin went up to the balcony and for a long time rubbed his eyes that did not want to wake up: behind the glass, instead of a heron, a tiny janitorial woman in a yellow sheepskin coat was scratching herself. I beat the ice with a crowbar, sprinkled it with sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, tore off the door sealed for the winter with a crunch and yelled:

Well, scatter! By what right do you scratch yourself, citizen ?!

It's my duty! - Sweetly straightened the janitor. - Traumatism on balconies decreases, the birth rate rises. And then there is no one to live.

What? You would have sprinkled sand on the roof! People break their legs not where you pour! Herods! - the stiffened Shtukin was fierce, wrapping himself in his home panties.

And who's stopping you from breaking your legs, where is it sprinkled? - the janitor looked into the room. -- Oh you! Where do you get such dirt? Not otherwise, the tenant here is single! So be it, I'll sprinkle it with sand. She poured generously from the bucket onto the floor. - Good parquet, Vietnamese! It is better with sand, but it can eat away with salt. Here in the fortieth floor I salted, as they asked, otherwise their father-in-law is drunk slipping. So believe me, no - all the parquet has become white! Salt whatever you want! But the father-in-law gave up drinking. I can’t, I said, beat my brow on the salty parquet floor, I feel nauseous! And he doesn't drink for the third day! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand on the way. - Shudders from the cold or from passion? I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you are immediately in shorts. First, I'll put the tea. Wow! You have rutabaga! I'll make scrambled eggs and rutabagas. This is useful. And for a man in general! Eat and start rushing at me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!

Strange as it may seem, the scrambled eggs and rutabagas were decent, and Shtukin didn’t have dinner again.

Well, I fed him. It's my duty. I think I'll go before the rutabagas attacked me! - Maria Ivanovna stepped to the balcony.

Semyon Altov
From the book "Carousel" 1989
Alien passenger
Ultramarine tube
Birthday girl
Last time
Who's there?
Around the world
Good parenting
Masterpiece
Felicita
Bites
Chain length
Chorus
Once upon a time there were two neighbors
Swan, crayfish and pike
Press
La-min!
Glasses
Glass
Smuggler
Letter to Zaitsev
To the left side
Reserve
For money
Hercules
Monster
The mountain came to Mohammed ...
Trait
Box
Hedgehog
True
Traffic accident
On September 16 this year, an accident occurred on Posadskaya Street. Truck driver Kubykin, noticing a woman who was standing at a pedestrian crossing, braked, letting the pedestrian pass. Citizen Rybets, whom not a single car or even a horse ever gave way to in her life, continued to stand, waiting for the car to pass.
Kubykin, making sure that the woman was not going to cross, got under way. Rybets, seeing that the truck was driving slowly, figured that, as usual, she would have time to slip by, and rushed across the road. The driver braked sharply and made a gesture with his hand, they say, come in, citizen!
Rybets interpreted the gesture to mean "get out before you move!" and rushed back to the sidewalk, waiting, in her words, "when this nutcase will pass." The driver, deciding that the woman was strange, gave a warning beep just in case.
Rybets realized that he was buzzing, mistaking her for deaf, and shook her head, they say, I'm not as deaf as you think.
Kubykin regarded the shaking of his head as "I refuse to cross" and, nodding, drove off. Rybets decided that with a nod he made it clear: "I am driving slowly, you will slip through!" and dashed across the path. The truck stopped. Rybets stopped, not knowing with what speed he would go, without which it was impossible to calculate, with what speed he had to run across.
Kubykin came to the conclusion that the woman is crazy. Reversing, he disappeared around the corner so that she calmed down and crossed over. Rybets guessed the maneuver like this: the driver wants to accelerate and jump out at full speed! Therefore, I did not go over.
When Kubykin, forty minutes later, drove around the corner, the woman stood rooted to the spot on the sidewalk. The truck backed away, not knowing what to expect from her. Kubykin, sensing that it would not end well, decided to make a detour, to take another road. When the truck disappeared again, Rybets, not knowing what this guy was planning, in a panic rushed to run through the courtyards shouting: "They are killing, save me!"
At 19.00, at the corner of Posadskaya and Bebel, they flew towards each other. Kubykin barely had time to brake. Rybets barely had time to cross herself.
Realizing that "without crushing her, the truck will not leave," she showed Kubykin a fig, they say, you can't crush it!
Kubykin, who, according to him, already had circles before his eyes, seeing a fig in a red circle, took it for a road sign "Driver! Free the roadway!" and drove out onto the sidewalk, clearing the highway for the idiot.
Rybets, realizing that the driver was drunk on the board and would crush it on the sidewalk, where strangers could get hurt, made the only right decision: she rushed towards the car, deciding to take the blow.
Kubykin backed up. Rybets did the same. So they maneuvered for three hours. It began to get dark.
And then it dawned on Kubykin: the aunt had been well moved in childhood, and he, obviously, looks like the driver who underwhelmed her! So that she would not be afraid of him, Kubykin pulled on his face black tights, which he bought for his wife. Looking closely, Rybets identified in Kubykin a particularly dangerous criminal, whose photo was published in the newspaper. Rybets decided to neutralize him and shouting "Hurray!" threw a can of milk into the car. Kubykin turned to the side and crashed into a lamppost, which, falling, crushed a certain Sidorchuk, whom the police had been looking for for five years.
This is how, thanks to the decisive actions of citizens, a particularly dangerous criminal was detained.
________________________________________________________________________
Alien passenger
The mourners had already left the cars when a man with a suitcase rushed along the platform.
Having reached the sixth carriage, he burst into the vestibule and, holding out a ticket to the conductor, sighed: "Wow, you barely had time!"
- Wait a minute! - Sternly said the girl in the cap. We were in time, but not there. This is not your train!
- How not mine? Whose? - the passenger was frightened.
“Ours is twenty-fifth, and yours is twenty-eighth. He left an hour ago! Goodbye! - the conductor pushed the man onto the platform.
The locomotive hummed, and the train started slowly.
- Wait! - shouted the passenger, picking up speed with the train. - I bought a ticket! Let me get in! He grabbed the handrail with his hand.
- I'll fit you! - barked the conductor. - Take your hands back! Don't paw on someone else's train! Run to the ticket office, change your ticket, then sit down if you catch up! Or blow to the foreman! He's in the tenth carriage!
The citizen increased his speed and, having caught up with the tenth carriage, yelled through the open window:
-- Sorry! I have a ticket for the sixth carriage, and she says: not on my train!
The foreman, adjusting his cap in front of the mirror, without turning around, said:
- I have a round of squad now. If it's not difficult, drop by in about thirty minutes!
Half an hour later he returned and, taking a ticket through the window, began to examine it.
-- Everything is fine! In print, right? You can't tell a damn thing! Tell Galya I gave permission.
The passenger slowed down and, leveling with the sixth car, shouted:
-- Check mark! It's me! Greetings from the foreman! He said: sit me down!
The girl looked at the ticket with displeasure:
-- "He said"! You are in thirteenth place! Here! And a woman is already riding it!
Unmarried! What will you do with her on the same shelf? I will not plant! So tell the foreman!
The man cursed and ran to figure it out.
The train picked up speed long ago and rumbled at the joints. The passengers began to lay out dinner on the tables.
- But a comrade is running well. In his years, I, too, used to run out in the morning!
said a passenger in a tracksuit as he chewed a sausage sandwich. - I bet he will be at home before us! The passenger in the barrel stopped slicing the cucumber and remarked:
- On the asphalt, everyone can. Let's see how he goes through the swamp, dear!
... The man with the suitcase continued to wander along the highway along the train from the conductor to the foreman and back. He was already in shorts, a T-shirt, but with a tie. At this time, inspectors went to the cars.
- Who is running there?
- Yes, it seems from our train, - someone said.
- From yours? - The inspector leaned out the window. -- Comrade! Hey! Do you have a ticket?
The runner nodded and reached into his pants for a ticket.
-- Do not! I believe! You have to trust people! - said the auditor, referring to the passengers.
- Run, comrade! Run to yourself, since there is a ticket. And then, you know, some strive as a hare! At the expense of the state! Have a good trip!
A grandmother with her granddaughter and two men were in the compartment. The grandmother began to spoon-feed the girl, saying:
- This is for mom! This is for dad! This is for the uncle who runs to his grandmother!
The men clinked glasses and repeated: "For dad! For mom! For that guy!"
The conductor went to serve tea. Passing the window behind which the passenger was looming, she asked:
- Shall we drink tea?
He shook his head.
- Well, as you wish! My business is to propose! - the conductor was offended.
The passengers began to go to bed. Four women rushed about the car for a long time, changed places with neighbors in order to find themselves in the same compartment without men. After a long bargaining, the entire girl's compartment was exchanged. Happy, women were lazily dressing up for bed, and then a lady in a red dressing gown noticed a running man with a suitcase in the window.
- Girls! He saw everything! - She indignantly tore the curtain, and it naturally fell with a metal pin on the table. The women screamed, hiding their charms in all directions.
Finally the curtain was fitted, in the dark they talked for a long time about how arrogant the peasants had gone and where to get them. Relaxed by the memories, we dozed off. And then a lady in a tracksuit jumped up:
- Girls, listen, what is he doing? Goes away like a steam locomotive!
- Yes, this is a steam locomotive! said the woman from the bottom shelf.
-- Do not! The locomotive does this: "Uh-uh ...", and this one: "Uh-uh!" I will have bad dreams! - The lady in the red robe knocked on the glass:
- Can you quieter ?! You are not alone here.
... The man was running. Maybe a second wind opened, but he ran with some kind of shining eye. And suddenly he began to sing: "Through the valleys and over the hills ..."
An old man in a Panama hat, reading a newspaper and short-sightedly leading his nose along the lines, listened and said:
- I began to sing! Definitely crazy! Escaped from the hospital!
“Not from any hospital,” the man in his pajamas yawned. -The hitchhiker is called! People are hitchhiking. So you can run around the whole country. It's cheap, comfortable and you feel like a human, because you don't depend on anyone. You run in the fresh air, and here it is stuffy and surely someone will snore!
Necessarily!
The conductor of the sixth car was sitting in the compartment and drinking tea noisily, looking out the window.
There, in the light of rare lanterns, a man with a suitcase flickered. Under his arm, out of nowhere, he had a banner: "Welcome to Kalinin!"
And then the conductor could not resist. Almost falling out the window, she yelled:
- Are you kidding me ?! There is no rest day or night! Ripple in your eyes! Get out of here!
The passenger smiled strangely, gave a beep and rushed forward.
An overweight man with a suitcase in his right hand and his wife in his left rushed to meet him at full speed from Moscow.
________________________________________________________________________
Ultramarine tube
Burchikhin drank his first glass of beer competently, in four gulps. He poured a second glass from the bottle, watched the foam stir, brought it to his mouth. He let the bursting bubbles tickle his lip and lustfully gave himself up to the tingling cold moisture.
After yesterday, beer acted like living water. Burchikhin blissfully closed his eyes, drawing out the pleasure in small sips ... and then he felt someone's eyes on him. "Here is a reptile!" - thought Vitya, somehow finished his beer, resoundingly put the glass on the filthy table and looked around. Two tables away from him sat a skinny guy in a blue sweater, a long scarf coiled around a nonexistent neck, and in his hands a three-color fountain pen. The tip threw tenacious glances at Burchikhin, as if checking him against something, and ran a fountain pen over the paper.
- Property inventory, or what ?! - said Burchikhin hoarsely, spat and went to the skinny one.
He smiled, continuing to scratch on the paper.
Burchikhin came up heavily and looked at the sheet. There was drawn Kuzmin's native street, and on it ... Burchikhin! The houses were green, Vitya was purple! But the worst thing is that Burchikhin was not like Burchikhin!
The painted Burchikhin differed from the original in a clean shaven face, cheerful eyes, and a kind smile. He held himself unnaturally straight, with defiant pride! Vitin's figure was hugged by a beautifully tailored suit. On the lapel the badge of some institute was red. On his feet are red shoes, and on his neck is the same tie.
In a word, a dude!
Burchikhin did not remember a greater insult, although there was something to remember.
-- So! - Vitya said hoarsely, straightening the collar of his crumpled shirt. -Mazyukay? And who allowed you to abuse people ?! If you don't know how to draw, sit down and drink beer!
Who is this, who, who? Am I ?! Yes, even in a tie! Ugh!
- It's you, - the artist smiled. -- Of course, you. Only I allowed myself to imagine what you could be! After all, as an artist, I have the right to fiction?
Burchikhin pondered, staring at the paper.
- As an artist you have. What's sticking out of your pocket?
- Yes, it's a handkerchief!
- Say it too, handkerchief! - Vitya blew his nose. - And why did you invent such eyes? I combed my hair, the main thing. Your chin turned out well, I find out. - Burchikhin, sighing, put a heavy hand on the lean one on the shoulder. - Listen, friend, maybe you're right? I haven't done anything bad to you. Why would you make this up? Right? And shave me, wash, change - I'll be like in the picture!
Easy!
Burchikhin looked into his clear violet eyes, tried to smile with a painted smile and felt a pain in his cheekbone from a disturbed scratch.
- Will you?
Vitya held out a pack of Belomor, which had been broken in half.
The artist took a cigarette. We lit a cigarette.
-- And what's that? - asked Burchikhin, carefully touching the drawn line on his cheek, and sat down at the table.
- Scar, - the artist explained, - now you have a scratch there. It will heal, but the trace will remain.
- Will stay, you say? It's a pity. A good cheek could be. And what about the badge?
The artist bent down to the paper.
- It says "Institute of Technology".
- Do you think I'm going to graduate? - Burchikhin asked quietly.
The artist shrugged his shoulders:
- You see! Come in and finish.
- And what is expected in the family plan? - Vitya nervously threw away the cigarette.
The artist took a fountain pen and sketched a green female silhouette on the balcony of the house.
He leaned back in his chair, looked at the drawing, and struck a child's figurine next to it.
-- Girl? - asked Burchikhin in falsetto.
-- Boy.
- Who is the woman? Judging by the dress, Lucy ?! Who else has a green dress?
- Galya, - corrected the artist.
- Galya! Ha ha! That's what I notice, she doesn't want to see me! Which means she's flirting! Well, women, tell me, huh? - Vitya laughed, not feeling the pain of the scratch. And you are a good man! He slapped the artist on the narrow back. - Do you want a beer?
The artist swallowed saliva and whispered:
-- Highly! I really want a beer!
Burchikhin called the waiter.
- A couple of Zhigulevsky! No, four! ..
Vitya poured beer, and they silently began to drink. Emerging in the middle of the second glass, the artist gasped and asked:
-- What is your name?
- I'm Burchikhin!
- You see, Burchikhin, I'm actually a marine painter.
- I understand, - said Vitya, - this is now being treated.
- Here, here, - the artist was delighted. - I need to draw the sea. My lungs are bad. I have to go south to the sea. To ultramarine! This color is useless here. And I love undiluted ultramarine, pure. Like sea! Imagine
Burchikhin - the sea! Living sea! Waves, cliffs and foam!
They poured foam from glasses under the table and lit a cigarette.
- Don't worry, - said Burchikhin. -- Well?! Everything will be fine! Sit in your panties by the sea with ultramarine! You have everything ahead of you!
-- Truth?! - The artist's eyes flashed and became like painted. -Do you think I'll be there ?!
-- What are you talking about? - Vitya answered. - You will be by the sea, you will forget about your lungs, you will become a great artist, you will buy a house, a yacht!
- Say too - a yacht! The artist shook his head thoughtfully. -Is that a boat, eh?
-- Of course! And even better - both a boy and a girl! Here on the balcony you can easily fit a little girl! - Burchikhin put his arm around the artist's shoulders, which took half an arm from elbow to palm. - Listen, friend, sell the canvas!
The artist shuddered.
- How can you ?! I will never sell to you! Do you want - I will give ?!
- Thank you, - said Vitya. -- Thank you friend! Just take off your tie from your neck: I can't see it on myself - it's hard to breathe!
The artist scratched the paper, and the tie became the shadow of a jacket. Burchikhin carefully took the sheet and, holding it in front of him, walked between the tables, smiling with a drawn smile, striding more and more firmly and more confidently. The artist finished his beer, took out a clean sheet and put it on the wet table. Smiling, he gently stroked the side pocket where the unopened tube of ultramarine lay. Then he looked up at the snotty boy at the next table. On his arm was tattooed: "There is no happiness in life." The artist painted a purple sea. Scarlet boat. The brave green captain on deck ...
________________________________________________________________________
Birthday girl
- Even more attention to everyone! - said the director. - Therefore, we will spend the Day of the birthday. I ask you, Checkmark, to write down the persons who this year turn forty, fifty, sixty, and so on until the end. On Friday we will celebrate everyone at once. And so that this day will be engraved in the memory of people, we will give forty-year-olds a ten each, fifty-year-olds twenty, and so on until the end.
In an hour, the list was ready. The director ran his eyes over him and shuddered:
-- What?! Why is MI Efimova turning one hundred and forty years old ?! Do you think you are writing ?!
The secretary was offended:
- And how old can she be if she was born in 1836?
- Some kind of nonsense. - The director dialed the number. - Petrov ?! Disorder again!
Why is MI Efimova one hundred and forty years old? Does she work as a monument for us ?! Is it written in the passport? .. Did you see it yourself ?! Hmmm. Here's a woman working.
The director hung up and lit a cigarette. "Some idiocy! If in forty years we give ten rubles, for one hundred and forty ... one hundred and ten rubles, take it out and put it down, right ?!
This cunning woman, this MI Efimova! Damn her! Let everything be beautiful. Along with the rest of the incentive will be. For that kind of money, anyone can make it to one hundred and forty! "
The next day a poster appeared in the lobby: "Happy birthday!" Below three columns were surnames, age and age-appropriate amounts. Against the name of Efimova MI stood: "140 years - 110 rubles."
People crowded around the poster, checked their names with the written ones, like with a lottery table, sighed and went to congratulate the lucky ones. Marya Ivanovna Efimova was approached uncertainly. They looked at her for a long time. They shrugged their shoulders and congratulated.
At first Marya Ivanovna, laughing, said: "Stop it! This is a joke! My passport was mistakenly written in 1836, but in fact it was 1936! This is a typo, do you understand ?!"
Co-workers nodded their heads, shook her hand and said: "Well, nothing, nothing, don't be upset! You look great! Nobody will give you more than eighty, honestly!" Such compliments made Marya Ivanovna feel bad.
At home, she drank valerian, lay down on the sofa, and then the phone began to ring.
Friends, relatives and completely unfamiliar people called, who sincerely congratulated Marya Ivanovna on a wonderful anniversary.
Then they brought three more telegrams, two bouquets and one wreath. And at ten o'clock in the evening, a sonorous child's voice in the telephone receiver said:
-- Hello! We, students of the 308th school, have created the Museum of Field Marshal Kutuzov!
We want to invite you as a participant in the Battle of Borodino ...
- Shame on you, boy! Marya Ivanovna shouted, choking with validol. - The battle of Borodino was in 1812! And I was born in 1836!
You have the wrong number! She dropped the phone.
Marya Ivanovna slept poorly and twice called the ambulance.
By 5 pm on Friday everything was ready for the celebrations. Above Efimova's workplace they attached a plate with the inscription: "MI Efimova works here 1836-1976".
At half past five, the assembly hall was full. The director went to the podium and said:
- Comrades! Today we want to congratulate our birthday people, and first of all - to M. I. Efimova!
They clapped in the hall.
- This is who we should take the example of our youth! I would like to believe that over time our youth will become the oldest in the world! All these years M. I. Efimova was an executive worker! She was constantly respected by the team! We will never forget Efimova, a competent engineer and a pleasant woman!
Someone sobbed in the hall.
- No need for tears, comrades! Efimova is still alive! She wants this solemn day to be remembered for a long time! Therefore, let's give her a valuable gift in the amount of one hundred and ten rubles, we wish her further success, and most importantly, as they say, health! Enter the birthday girl!
To a roar of applause, two warriors took Marya Ivanovna onto the stage and made her sit in a chair.
- Here it is - our pride! The director's voice rang out. -Look, will you give her one hundred and forty years ?! Never! This is what caring for a person does to people!
________________________________________________________________________
Last time
The closer to school, the more nervous Galina Vasilievna became. She mechanically straightened a strand that had not been knocked out from under the kerchief and, forgetting herself, talked to herself.
"When will it end ?! Not a week, so that they don't call to school! In the sixth grade, such a bully, but will he grow up ?! You spoil, and you beat, and as they teach on TV, you suffer! It's all in vain! Yes, and you still have to beat. six months, and then suddenly he will give back? Look how healthy! He went to Peter! " - Galina Vasilievna thought with pride.
Climbing the stairs, she stood for a long time in front of the director's office, not daring to enter. But then the door flew open and Fyodor Nikolaevich, the director, came out.
Seeing Seryozha's mother, he smiled and, taking her by the arm, dragged her into the study.
“The point is this ...” he began.
Galina Vasilievna looked tensely into the director's eyes, not hearing the words, trying to determine the amount of material damage caused by Seryozha this time by the timbre of her voice.
“This does not happen every day in our school,” said the director. - Yes, you sit down! We do not want to leave this act unattended.
"Then ten rubles for the glass," Galina Vasilyevna recalled sadly, "then Kuksova for the briefcase that Seryozha beat Ryndin with," eight fifty!
Bodily injury to the skeleton from the zoology office - twenty rubles!
Twenty rubles per kilogram of bones! Well, the prices! What am I, a millionaire, or what ?!
"
- Listen, what letter we received ... - came to Galina Vasilievna.
"God!" She gasped. "What kind of punishment is this? You have been pulling him alone since you were three years old! All your life for him! Dress, shoe, feed, so that like people!"
Nothing for himself, but he ... "
- "The management of the metal plant," the director read with expression, "asks to express gratitude and rewards a valuable gift to a student of your school Parshin Sergei Petrovich, who has committed a heroic deed. Sergei Petrovich, risking his life, carried one three children out of the burning kindergarten ... "
“One - three,” Galina Vasilievna repeated to herself. - And how did one cope with three ?! The poured bandit! Why do others have children like children? Kirillova's Vitka plays the trumpet! At Lozanova's girl, as soon as she comes home from school, she sleeps until evening!
And where does this one disappear all day ?! I bought a piano at a thrift store. Old, but there are keys! So at least once sat down without a belt ?! Gamma will not be performed by heart!
"No rumor"! And what does he have ?! "
- That's it, dear Galina Vasilievna! What a guy we brought up!
I carried three children out of the fire! This has never happened in our school! And we will not leave it like that! Tomorrow ...
"Of course, don't leave," Galina Vasilyevna closed her eyes. "I suppose, take out twenty-five rubles and put it in! Now he will say:" For the last time! " : "Mommy!
Last time! Mommy! "Lord! And then all over again! Yesterday I appeared in soot and soot, as if they were cleaning the pipes! It would be better to die ..."
- I'm waiting for him tomorrow morning before the solemn ruler. We will announce everything there! - the director finished smiling.
- Comrade director! Last time! - Galina Vasilievna jumped up, mechanically crumpling in her hands the form that lay on the table. - I give you my word, this will not happen again!
-- But why? The director gently unclenched her fist and took the form. -If a boy at the age of thirteen did this, then in the future what is he capable of ?!
Can you imagine if we all had such?
-- God forbid! - whispered Galina Vasilievna.
The director walked her to the door and shook her hand tightly.
- You’re at home, son, mark as you can!
On the street Galina Vasilievna stood, breathing deeply, so as not to burst into tears.
- If there were a husband, he would have noted it as it should be! And I am a woman, what will I do with him? Everyone has fathers, but he does not! So it grows by itself! Well, I'll whip ... She went into the store, bought two bottles of milk and one cake with cream.
- I'll flog, then I'll give milk and cake - and sleep! And there, you see, he will go crazy, he will become a man ...
________________________________________________________________________
Who's there?
Galya once again checked whether the windows were closed, hid the matches and, sitting down by the mirror, spoke, separating the words from her lips with lipstick movements:
- Svetochka, mom went to the hairdresser ... A pleasant male voice will call, say: "Mom has already left." This is a hairdresser ... A nasty female voice calls and asks: "Where is Galina Petrovna?" This is from work. You say: "She went to the clinic ... to be discharged!" Don't be confused. You are a smart girl. You are six years old.
- There will be seven, - corrected Sveta.
- There will be seven. Do you remember who you can open the door to?
- I remember, - answered Sveta. - Nobody.
-- Right! - Galya licked her painted lips. - Why can't you open it, haven't you forgotten?
- Grandmother says: "Bad bandits with axes walk the stairs, pretend to be plumbers, aunts, uncles, and they themselves saw naughty girls and drown them in the bath!" Right?
- That's right, - said Galya, pinning a brooch. - Although my grandmother is old, her hands are trembling, she has interrupted all the dishes, but she really talks about the bandits ... Recently, three plumbers came to one house to fix a TV set. The boy opened ...
- And they with his ax - and in the bath! - suggested Sveta.
“If only,” Galya muttered, trying to fasten the brooch. - They drowned in the bath and carried everything out.
- And a bath?
- We left the bath with the boy.
- Will grandmother come to open it for her? - asked Sveta, twisting the doll's leg.
- Grandma won't come, she's at the dacha. Will come tomorrow.
- And if today?
- I said tomorrow!
- And if today?
- If today, this is no longer a grandmother, but a bandit! He walks home, steals children.
Where did I put the powder?
- Why steal children? - Sveta turned her leg away from the doll and was now turning it back. - Do the bandits have their own?
-- There is not.
- Why not?
- "Why, why"! - Galya made cilia with ink. - Because, unlike your daddy, they want to bring something into the house! There is no time for them! Any other stupid questions?

Row in table
The two springs across the river were like an unpaid debt for Marchenko and me. Twice we tried to drive to them on reindeer - it did not work: in some places the ice was already breaking - spring was approaching.
We decided to walk together. We got up early - the contours of ice and bushes were barely visible. It was freezing, and it made me happy. We freely crossed the ice to the right bank, rather quickly overcame the steep rocky slope of the valley and entered the vast plateau.
We sat over the map, and then it turned out that we had not taken into account, when we were calculating the route, what an obstacle the streams had become. Now we will have to go on top - watersheds - longer, but rather, although the sources from above will be more difficult to find.
It turned out, however, that the two of us would not be able to get to the springs - we would not have time to return before dark.
- Let's split up, - I suggested, - we'll meet here, at this granite colossus, it is noticeable from afar.
- Then so, - agreed Marchenko, - if you are the first to come - put a noticeable pebble here and go to the camp - you can't wait to return: every hour you can turn something. If I come first, I’m waiting for you.
Having straightened a large backpack full of empty bottles for water samples on his back, Marchenko waved his hand at me and, without looking back, walked along the rocky surface, gray with lichens and moss. I looked after him. When this person wants, he is like flint, words and deeds are one, you can trust in everything.
The morning became brighter and brighter, and the clouds, spreading their feathers, floated high and calm. The world was indestructible, we successfully finished the field season, did even more than we planned, and for the first time in several years a summer vacation was expected ahead.
I walked to the top. As always, I got the familiar feeling of the novelty of every step on the way and the joy of lonely routes. An amazing silence walked with me, and inaudible near, and overtaking me, rushed new and new winds. In a few steps they flew far ahead, they were replaced by others, it seemed that they were taking with them some part of me and it was easier to walk from this.
I found a spring. Soon, it came out almost at the pass. Here, above, winter still strictly kept in check his rapid mobility, he knocked out from the bottom cramped, twisted light
a stream from a shallow funnel, where well-washed pebbles bloomed, and merged into a narrow stream. Snow was dozing around, no melting was felt yet.
I sat by the spring, enjoying its soothing intonations, then poured two bottles of water that were in my backpack, measured the temperature and flow rate of the stream, wrote it all down and went back.
Suddenly it got dark and began to rain, the first this year. The block of granite did not have Marchenko. I put a piece of grayish quartz in the agreed place and without stopping went to the camp. The bright expanse of the okoyem deceived - it turned out that the clock was soon dusk. The river valley lay aloof and gloomy below, and was almost to the top in a wavering, kind of watery fog. The descent was steep, uncomfortable and very heavy. I was sliding on ice, invisible under the moss, which had melted from the rain, and I came to the river broken and exhausted.
There was no ice on the river. He was carried away by the water rising from the rain. The dark and harsh water slowly passed by and in some places already filled the meanders of the low floodplain here. The fog almost lay on the river, and only at the very shore did it become noticeable that it hung heavily above the water, as if ready to fall into it.
There was no need to hesitate, and I went upstream, hoping at the end of the ice-hole that was always here to meet the ice cover. I tried to walk fast to get ahead of the night. But the branches and the abundance of streams that appeared slowed down my progress, and the night almost caught up with me. I appreciated the situation immediately and did not hesitate - I had to move on. The river was not wide here, the water rose above the knees and flooded the boots. Stumbling, I got over to our left bank and was glad that I was almost at home and would soon be around the fire.
But wherever I tried to move in the dark, I got into some hollows with water, holes with roots, into a glass-rustling ice mess, as if I had entered a channel. Vankino's eyesight! In order not to freeze at all, I was constantly trampling and jumping up and down. At times I lost my bearings and then I listened to the river and walked along its noise.
Cold, darkness, terrible chills and the feeling that I was spinning in one place, led to bad thoughts. “Chur me, chur,” the coachmen used to say, spinning and getting confused with a sleigh amid the fiercest Russian blizzards.
Usually those who are forced to risk their lives to some extent are superstitious. The drivers are hanging some twitching monkeys in front of them, from which, it seems to me, the road cannot be seen properly and it is more likely to "curl up". Geologists are not superstitious.

Altov Semyon

Gain altitude

(stories)

Violation

STOP (stops the car). Sergeant Petrov! I will ask for documents!

Driver. Good day!

P about with about in about th. Your documents! Rights!

Driver. And don't say. Very hot.

P about with about in about th. Rights!

Driver. A?

P about with about in about th. Are you hard of hearing?

Driver. Speak louder.

Posture (yells). You broke the rules! Your rights!

Driver. You're right. Very hot. I'm all wet. And you?

P about with about in about th. Are you deaf? What sign is hanging? What sign is hanging ?!

Driver. Where?

P about with about in about th. Up there!

Driver. I see I am not deaf.

P about with about in about th. Red with yellow at the top for what is it hung?

Driver. By the way, there is something hanging there, it is necessary to remove it - it distracts.

P about with about in about th. In the middle, on a yellow background, what turns black so red?

Driver. Louder, very hot!

P about with about in about th. You deaf?

Driver. I have bad sight.

P about with about in about th. Deaf and blind, or what ?!

Driver. I can not hear!

P about with about in about th. How did you get behind the wheel?

Driver. Thank you, I don't smoke. Don't worry. There are two in the car. One sees, the other hears! And I drive.

P about with about in about th. The black arrow to the right is crossed out. What does it mean? I can not hear.

Driver. Are you deaf? Crossed out? Incorrect, set, then crossed out.

P about with about in about th. Are you out of your mind? This means you cannot turn to the right.

Driver. Who told you?

P about with about in about th. What do you think I'm an idiot?

Driver. You take on a lot. Where do you think I have turned?

P about with about in about th. We turned right.

Driver. What are you? I turned left. You are simply not standing that sideways.

P about with about in about th. God! Where is your left?

Driver. Here is my left. Here is the left hand, here is the right! And you?

P about with about in about th. Ugh! Okay, there is a passer-by, let's ask him. Thank God we're not all idiots. Comrade! Answer: which hand is left, which is right?

P about x about zh and d (stretching at attention). Guilty!

P about with about in about th. I am not asking for your last name. Which hand is left, which is right?

P about x about w and th. The first time I've heard.

P about with about in about th. It is not otherwise in the insane asylum an open day. Which left hand is your right?

P about x about w and th. Personally, I have this one on the left, and this one on the right. Or renamed from today?

Driver. And you didn’t believe it, Comrade Sergeant. You see, our hands are the same, but yours are confused.

POST (looks at his hands in bewilderment). I don’t understand anything.

P about x about w and th. I can go?

P about with about in about th. Go, go!

P about x about w and th. Where to?

P about with about in about th. Go straight without turning anywhere, and get away from here!

P about x about w and th. Thanks for the tip. I’m walking for two hours, I don’t know where! (Leaves.)

Driver. You have to do something with your hands. I won't tell anyone, but your job may be in trouble.

P about with about in about th. And I mean you to anyone. Go! Yes, when you turn left, you’re right, there is no passage there, a cliff. But you can go there.

Pets' corner

It began on the seventeenth. I don’t remember the year and month, but the fact that the twenty-third of September is for sure. I was then promoted from the enterprise to skydive for precision landing. I landed more accurately than anyone else, since the rest of the participants could not be pushed out of the plane.

For this, at the meeting they handed me a certificate and a healthy cactus. I could not refuse, I brought the freak home. I put it on the window and forgot about it. Moreover, I was instructed to navigate the terrain for the honor of the team.

And then one day, I don’t remember the year and month, but the date hit - the tenth of May 1969 - I woke up in a cold sweat. Believe it or not - a huge red bud was blazing on a cactus! The flower had such an effect on me that for the first time in many years of impeccable service, I was three minutes late, for which they cut my thirteenth salary so that others would not disagree.

After a few days, the flower wrinkled and fell off the cactus. The room became dark and sad.

That's when I started collecting cacti. In two years I had fifty pieces!

Having familiarized myself with the special literature, for which I had to learn the Mexican language, I was able to create excellent conditions for cacti at home, not inferior to natural ones. But it turned out that a person can hardly survive in them.

Therefore, for a long time I could not adapt to the conditions that I created for cacti. But every day a red bud was burning on one of the cacti!

I started a correspondence with cactusists of different countries and peoples, exchanged seeds with them. And then somehow, I don't remember what month, but I remember that on the twenty-fifth of 1971, some idiot from Brazil sent red seeds. I planted it foolishly. This disgrace grew very quickly. But when I realized what it was, it was too late! The hefty baobabiste took root into the floor, climbed out of the window with branches and stuck over the windows of the neighbors from above. They filed with a friendly court. I was fined twenty-five rubles and ordered to cut the branches from the neighbors upstairs and chop off the roots of the neighbors from below on a monthly basis.

What kind of seeds were not sent! Soon I had lemons, bananas and pineapples. Someone wrote to work that he did not understand how I could afford such a table for my salary. I was invited to the local committee, instructed to collect money for a gift to Vasiliev and visit him: “After all, the person is sick. For two months now he has not gone to work. Maybe he is thirsty. "

I guess I'm confusing the chronology, but in the fall, after lunch, a man came to me with a briefcase. We drank tea with banana jam, chatted, and before leaving, he said: “Sorry, I feel you love the flora in general and the animal in particular. I'm leaving for a month on a voyage, let Leszka stay with you this time. "

He took Leshka out of the portfolio. It was a python. I never saw that person again, but we still live side by side with Leshka. He really likes diet eggs, dumplings and a neighbor on the site, Klavdia Petrovna.

Soon journalists began to visit me. They photographed, interviewed and pineapples.

I am afraid to make a mistake in the chronology, but that year, when I gathered an unprecedented harvest of coconuts for our latitudes, the young people from the zoo brought a little tiger, Caesar. In the same fruitful year, the sailors of the motor ship "Crimea" gave me two lion cubs as a gift.

Stepan and Masha.

I never thought that you can eat like that! All salaries and pineapples not eaten by journalists were exchanged for meat. And I also had to cheat. But I didn't feed in vain. A year later, I had two decent lions and one tiger in my house. Or two tigers and one lion? What does it matter though?

When Caesar got along with Masha, I thought that I would go crazy! Stepan gave me wild scenes. And with grief he bit Hippolyta's ostrich. But my bed was vacant, because the nest that Hippolytus made in it I threw out as unnecessary.

One morning, while taking a bath, I felt that I was not taking it alone. And for sure.

Some hooligans planted a crocodile!

Six months later, the crocodile brought offspring, although I still do not understand where he brought it from, since he was alone. The newspapers wrote that this is "a rare case, because in captivity crocodiles breed with difficulty." Why shouldn't he multiply? I came home from work and felt at home in this captivity!

Only once did I lose heart and, as advised, left the door open for the night. They said maybe someone will leave. The results exceeded all expectations. Not only did no one leave, in the morning I found three more cats, one mongrel and a neighbor whose wife had left. The next morning we were asked by a woman from forty-second, to whom her husband returned, and a pensioner who suffered greatly from loneliness. And how do you order to put up a couple with a one-year-old child? They said: “We cannot live with our mother-in-law any longer. Do what you want! " I gave them a place near the baobab.

And the people reached out. A month later, our tribe numbered fifteen people along with the animals. We live together. In the evenings we gather around the fire, some sing, others howl softly, but everyone keeps the melody!

Not so long ago there was an excursion. People from another city came to have a look at our living corner. Everyone remained, except for the guide. She went for the next group.

Yes, once there was an anonymous letter. “Why do so many unregistered animals live illegally on an area of ​​thirty-three square meters, while my husband and I huddle together on an area of ​​thirty-two square meters? Why are we worse than their cattle? " We know who wrote. This is from the thirty-fourth Tonka Heavy Hand. Dogs with her husband, fight to the point of bruises, and then they say that, they say, the animals are unbelted, they stick to unfamiliar women!

Eh, to let Caesar and Stepan down on them! Come on. Well, it turns out that if you live with wolves, everyone will howl like a wolf, or what?