Drinking Stories, #1:

I saw it all this summer with my own eyes. So - the middle of summer, the heat, a huge dacha cooperative, elongated into one tape - a flat, narrow long road passing in the forest between two rows of high-voltage power lines, on both sides of the road - twin plots, all with the same area of ​​\u200b\u200bsix acres, the same forms. Somewhere in the middle of this tape on one of the plots - a wedding. A huge tent like a summer cafe, which occupies almost the entire site, yells something loudly into the toastmaster's microphone, while you can hear not only her, but some wheezing, the electricity called 220 volts hardly draws 150, because Saturday, everything is in the country , someone turned on the welding, someone turned on some pumps, the voltage jumps and the sound-amplifying equipment works with great tension. Somewhere in the afternoon, pretty drunk and full of guests, a natural desire arises to warm up, dance, and make a fuss. Since the tent with tables stands on the site and occupies the entire site, on one side of the site there is a dense and filthy forest, on the other side of the road, after some time about fifty drunken guests pour out onto the road. The cooperative is large, the road, as already mentioned, is one. The summer residents traveling along this road back and forth are forced to push their cars through this crowd every time, beeping. About an hour later, the drunken guests decide to put this matter under control and begin to demand from the passing tax to the budget fund of the young and drink a glass for their health. Drivers are naturally indignant, the cooperative is large, no one knows anyone, and the health of the young, for which you need to risk your driver's license, and their budget, for which you can almost be robbed, believing that they have every reason to give them a damn. But it is difficult to argue with such a huge drunken crowd, which has already accumulated to the state of "who would be stuffed in the face", but I want to drive through. Toward evening, a traffic police car with a police car drove up to the place of our action for dismantling. As expected, someone was caught drunk driving and he honestly admitted that he was forcibly poured vodka into him and at the same time robbed. It was very difficult to find a specific culprit, it was even more difficult to arrest the entire crowd, after some time the scandal was hushed up, the traffic cops and policemen were persuaded to sit at the table, drink "peace", they resist for a long time, but in the end they still agree, etc. and so on..... It was getting dark. Pretty drunken traffic cops with policemen and our already drunken guests found a common language, after which they organized an impromptu checkpoint, placing police and traffic police cars on both sides of the street under the fences, turning on their flashing lights and leaving a very, very narrow passage in the middle, in which you probably already understood the guests, with the support of our valiant traffic and law enforcement agencies, they again began to collect tribute and force passing summer residents to drink. .. A curtain....


Drinking Stories #2:

Today, another story from my partner Vovan, and if the venerable public would like to read all this, then let's start ... All this happened with two of Vovan's best friends in Russia. They got together somehow for fishing, the first one, Sanya, had no problems, but the second one, Seryoga, the parents didn’t want to let go - they really needed him that day. In short, Sanya made an effort and persuaded his friend’s mother to let his son go with him. Well, what is fishing without vodka?! They drank, did not go fishing much, drank again and began to swagger. I don’t know exactly how and where, but Seryoga jumped into the water and cut his legs. A friend sent him to the hospital, sobered up a little and came to the conclusion that it was necessary to inform Sergey’s parents about everything. He collected fishing rods, things that were left, and among them bloody sneakers in which Seryoga jumped into the water. On the way, for courage, he took more (after all, whatever one may say, he pulled out a friend and was indirectly guilty to his parents for what happened) and rang the doorbell ... Mother opened the door, Sanya hiccupped, sniffed, and holding out fishing rods and bloody sneakers to his mother He betrayed his friend: “This is ..., here, what is left of Seryoga, and they will bring him later ...” For a long time he did not show his nose to his friend.


Drinking Stories, #3:

To begin with, I’ll say that I’m renting an apartment together with a girlfriend ... So, last night we went out into the yard to smoke so that our child (a cat named Nastya) would not breathe smoke ... On the stairs, Lena (a neighbor) noticed that we went out without keys. It’s just scary to describe what we were wearing ... Lena in a coat put on a bra, torn jeans and slippers, and I’m in a dirty jacket on my naked body, in which I usually take out the garbage and jeans 4 years ago and not the first freshness ... The first thought that came up was to go to the avenue to catch a car in order to get to the owners of the apartment and take the keys. After much torment, we stopped the car (the only valuable thing we had with us was a lighter), after a brief presentation by Lena of the history of our torment, the driver looked at Us with a clearer look and said: "WILL NOT GO!!!" ... And then we decided to go to our neighbors to call our acquaintances ... Lena called her friend A. (the name is not published for the purpose of secrecy from his wife), whom we waited for half an hour near the garbage cans ... Let's go to the owners' house on the other side of the city. On the way, they decided to call and warn the owners of the apartment about the current situation ... Then it turned out that the owner, along with the keys, went to the dacha, to a village called Zazhop ... sk, which is 100 kilometers from the city. I will not describe how we were looking for the right house in the village so as not to exhaust anyone completely! When the house was found, the owner came out to us drunk to zero in family shorts and for a long time could not understand what was actually required of him ... AND HERE (drumroll) WE COMED HOME ... wow ... night ... and the entrance is open... said goodbye to A. and went home to the soft beds... I think you guessed it already... the key didn't fit... THE CURTAIN!!!


Drinking Stories, #4:

A few days ago. Morning. There had been a binge the night before. The people, solidly yielding, are lying around somewhere, gradually moving away. One of us (Zeus), still vaguely imagining where he is, picks up the phone and calls his sidekick (Amanita) on a mobile phone, tell how good he (Zeus) spent the evening, and it’s a pity that HIM (Amanita) WAS NOT. They chat for about ten minutes on the speakerphone, they interfere with sleep. It turns out that Amanita could not get to us, because he himself participated in a drinking bout that evening. They chat for another ten minutes, Amanita asks to wait, because he stomps to the toilet, he can’t stand it anymore. Here the door of one of the rooms opens, a fly agaric falls out of it like a booze, and with a pipe at the ear on the first space one flies past the stunned Zeus. Moral: drink less.



Drinking Stories, #7:

I was told the following story: the boss of the peasants locked a bottle of alcohol in a safe. They thought for a long time how to get it from there, and then they lifted the safe and dropped it, the bottle broke, they put saucers under the legs ....... what's the idea?


Drinking Stories, #9:

She came home, got into the elevator, and got stuck in the area of ​​the first floor. Already she screamed and stamped her feet, but to no avail. (I did not understand whether it was at night, or during the day, when everyone was at work). Finally, weary, she sat down on the floor, leaning her head against the elevator door, and dozed off. Suddenly he hears - the door in the front door slams,
someone with unsteady steps rises to the elevator and stops at its doors. She understands that the dated man, apparently, is now pressing the elevator button. So that he does not suffer, she says: "Do not try, the elevator does not work." Outside, a few seconds of pause, and then a phrase in a slurred tongue: "Here are the bitches, instead of fixing the elevator, they put an answering machine ..."


Drinking Stories, #10:

This incident happened in my native house #19 on Biryuzova street, which is an ordinary five-story "Khrushchev" with four entrances, 20 sq. every. If someone doubts, then as Panikovsky used to say: - Go to ... Minsk and ask! It happened on the eve of Prohibition, when people still believed in "Communism with a human face", glasnost, perestroika and all sorts of other nonsense. All knowledgeable old women were always sitting on the benches, a pack of children raging around them, unaware of the presence of monks, racketeers and hunters for "live goods". The male population in good weather spent time at a table in the yard, playing cards and dominoes, along the way drinking "ink", less often "white". In bad weather, they gathered in a heat station, where meetings of the housing cooperative were held every half a year, and the rest of the time it was possible to walk from the free, because. the room was equipped with skill. One summer evening, someone rang the doorbell. Father went to open it, two men from our house are on the threshold and they tell a story that a neighbor from the first entrance fell from the fifth floor and crashed. Before that, they drank with him, but his wife appeared and drove home, no one really knows how everything happened, but the man died, and therefore it would be necessary to help his family with funerals and commemoration. Parents gave money, in such cases everyone dumped 3-5 rubles each, as best they could, and the "walkers from the people" followed on, they still had to collect donations from 10 apartments. Forty minutes later I went out into the street and, while making my way through the line of sympathizers, I heard 20 versions of what had happened. At the ill-fated entrance of the "untimely departed" the newly-minted widow was sobbing, the cops and the district police officer were darting about, with a dumbfounded look and eyes popping out of their sockets. He ran like a restless hamster either to the entrance, or behind the house, while repeating the whole road "I don't understand anything", "It can't be", simultaneously interfering with "obscenity". The crowd, sensing something was wrong, threw it behind the house and saw the following: the fifth floor is available, the windows are present, there is also a dent from a fall 30 centimeters deep, the shoes of the deceased are right there, but there is no "blind man's blind man" himself. It took the residents a few seconds to understand the situation, the money had been paid. But the district police officer was completely confused, especially after the report that the service dog did not pick up the trail. Only some time later, he began to understand what was happening, because. noticed the almost complete absence of the male half and the modest whispering with a small bag of the female. When the valiant militia burst into the heat station, having previously knocked out the steel doors with a bolt, they found there numerous friends of the deceased and the unfortunate man himself, mortally drunk, who noted the successful resurrection of the dead with the money collected for the commemoration.

Here is another related story:

It was winter in February. We were already at home at 10 pm, and then her good friend called, he had a DR. Well, she didn't want to go, because. Tomorrow morning there were some things to do. But I persuaded her))) but she told me that if she goes she will drink! I said only one condition, that she didn’t puke in public, but at home it doesn’t matter. On this they decided.

Came in general, darkness friends! We had not seen many of them for a very long time, and then we split up, she went to the kitchen with vodka drinkers, and I remained in the hall chatting about cars and drinking beer. From time to time she came out to me, I noticed that she was slowly getting drunk, her eyes were getting cloudy, she was staggering a little. She came up to me, I smelled a distinct smell of alcohol, and she said, cute, I feel today I will get drunk in gaaavno! I said that I was only glad about this, but warned me not to disgrace myself and not vomit (since this has already happened more than once). In general, she again went to drink further) and we ran out of beer and I went with the guys for additions) When we returned, my wife was still drinking in the kitchen, from her loud laugh and slurred tongue, I realized that she had almost reached the condition! I sat down to drink beer. After a bottle of beer, I decided to look into the kitchen, because everyone was quiet. When I entered, I saw a little wife drunk in a dupel, she tried to switch the melody on the phone. She drank vodka from a cup because she didn’t get any glasses, I don’t know exactly how much she drank, but she was ready. I hugged her, she smiled drunkenly and tried to get up, but disappointed in her strength, she flopped back. She gathered her eyes together, and barely moving her tongue, she says, well, what are we sitting, pour. I did not keep myself waiting and poured an almost full cup of 150 grams, probably for sure. And handed it to her. Friends looked in surprise, they say, she’s already in the shit, where is her drain, but I gestured like they say calm! Everything is OK))) She raised the cup and drained it in one gulp, and it was felt that she was doing it with difficulty! She swallowed the last sips from the third time, they simply did not fit her. I thought it was throwing up right here. But she managed and drank every drop. I sat next to her and hugged her and so we sat chatting about nothing for about 15 minutes, and my wife could no longer talk, but almost slept sniffing on her shoulder and drooling. I decided it was time for us. He began to raise her, with difficulty we managed to get up, and she asked to be taken to the toilet, I asked to puke, she nodded. As soon as we entered, she immediately fell to the floor near the toilet, I began to pick her up. Then she barely pronouncing to me made it clear that she would not vomit, as she promised to drag me home. I nodded, everything is ok. We dressed her cheerfully, she could not stand, one friend held her, and I put on her boots (it’s good that without heels) it was slippery on the street a couple of blocks to the house, we walked, all the way she kept saying that she got so drunk especially for me to fuck I will have her when we arrive. In general, we arrived safely, she fell three times. Directly into the dirt, in general, it looked naturally like a pig from the outside. Once when I picked her up, already near the house, I inadvertently pressed on my stomach and saw how my cheeks began to puff up, but I managed to stroke her and said to breathe and he seemed to restrain himself almost throwing up. We went into the apartment, while the wife opened the door and lay under the door in a ball. I picked her up and brought her into the apartment, took off my shoes! And then, resolutely staggering from wall to wall, she slapped onto the bed and flopped down on it. She looked like this. The mouth is open, drooling, the T-shirt is pulled up, in general, the PPC is full. I undressed her, she didn’t even stir, put her on the floor, straightened the bed. I started to raise it and then it started, she vomited over the aqueduct, this is PPC. In short, a powerful jet vomited all over her belly, her knees and the floor. And I held her head, she herself could not. After this outpouring, I took her to the bath, washed a little, brought her home again, fucked me perfectly, only she puked out of bed again, sobered up a little after sex, and was able to at least get her head off the bed. I gave her water. We still had sex, I won’t describe it, the process of intoxication is important for readers, like me, I think the ex is in second place, I’ll say that the sex was super and she sucked great !!! Then she passed out, in the morning she was, as always, wildly ashamed, looking at her vomited clothes and at a puddle of vomit near the bed. I said that everything is OK, and began to look after her, give her some water, feel sorry, this always happens after such drunkenness. In general, once a month, sometimes in two, I deliver my wife home in this condition and I love it very much!!!

If anyone is interested, I will continue to write) just leave detailed comments about what you like, what exactly to describe in more detail, what can be omitted. And in general the attitude to such a wife. I would post pictures, but I'm afraid to disperse on the Internet and he won't forgive me, and our relationship is very dear to me, where else can I find a beautiful girl, and so get drunk)))

bb everyone!!! I'm waiting for comments!

I once had a fight with my best friend on the eve of her birthday. I wrote to her the next day, but she did not answer. I came home from work, washed my face, put on a dressing gown, poured myself some whiskey and... And after a while I felt so sorry for myself - I can't express it! In general, I decided to break away on my own, got up, put on sneakers and went to the club. Right in the bathrobe. What is most interesting, they even let me in there. The problem is that at some point I sobered up and found myself on the dance floor in this form. The rest of the evening, in general, had to be spent in the toilet cubicle. Well, I took the phone with me and still got through to my friend. Reconciled. She even took someone's jacket with her to cover me.

Maria, 25 years old

We got drunk with friends at the club, walked home barefoot, because it was no longer possible to walk in shoes. I came and I understand that my husband is already sleeping, but in the morning he will definitely understand everything - just by the powerful smell of fumes and dirty heels. So, in order not to get caught, you need to drink adsorbent at night, open the window and be sure to wash your feet. I ate enough coal, in general, I opened the window and washed my feet very carefully. I forgot to take off my stockings.

Evgenia, 33 years old

It was about being a student. Gathered with a friend in a large group. He had his own two-story house and a very kind mother, who said that she had made a bed for me downstairs, in a room near the stairs. At some point, I staggered towards the stairs, intending to go down and go to bed. But, firstly, I lost my balance in the middle and flew down, and at the foot of the stairs, the kindest shepherd Jackie was sleeping. I fell right on the dog, but she managed to endure it silently. And secondly, then I opened the door to the room, saw a sofa with a pillow and a blanket right in the direction and collapsed on it, having time to think that it was somehow uncomfortable. And for some reason there is no bed linen. I woke up from the fact that Jackie was licking my face, and my friend’s mother was standing in the room and whispering: “Detonka, you slept on a dog sofa, this is her sofa, and I made a bed for you right here ...” And points to a magnificent bed right opposite. Linen, shining white, and the corner of the blanket was even unfolded. As in the screen saver "Good night, kids!".

Anastasia, 27 years old

I met with a friend, stayed up late, and I had to go home out of town. I decided to stay with my parents. I ring the doorbell and understand that I need to strenuously pretend to be sober, otherwise mom and dad will be upset. I go in, which means I take off my jacket and shoes and I understand that the whole family is somehow looking too closely at this process. At the same time, I hear some strange background sound, very nasty. I try to make an even more sober face, and then my mother finally breaks down and says: “Maybe you’ll get off the cat’s tail already ?!” The whole scene did not last long, of course, but it was remembered forever.

Elena, 24 years old

I received my first salary and immediately bought myself contact lenses: I dreamed about them all my life. A couple of days later I got drunk visiting friends, realized that I would not get home and stayed for the night. I removed my lenses before going to bed and put them in a glass of water. And in the morning, of course, I drank water. Along with lenses.

Vera, 21

Drunken village.

Story.

In the evening, the father said to the children:
- Tomorrow I send you to the village. Your grandmother lives there, and she needs help with haymaking. She is already old and needs help. My mother and I don’t get vacations in the summer now, so, my dears, pack your things and go. Clearly stated?
Hurray! - Olga, a seventh-grader, immediately shouted. - I'll pick mushrooms there.
The son, on the contrary, did not express any enthusiasm. He just put the book aside and muttered:
- Dad? Is this another joke? I am busy. I'm getting ready for college. And then, what kind of hay? Did the grandmother have a cow?
- Didn't show up. But she has a goat. And this is also ruminant cattle. There is work for several days ... You can take textbooks with you. By the way, I still don’t understand what institute you are going to ...
- Yes, not in your engineering. You work hard all your life at your fucking factory, and you get a penny. We don't even have a beat up car.
The father took off his glasses from his short-sighted eyes, looked in bewilderment at his son, who had thrown his legs up on the windowsill.
- You don't want to be an engineer...
- Yes, father, I do not want. I want to become a politician... I want to hang noodles on the ears of the people. And live happily ever after... And I don't see your goat point-blank.
- Oh, yap! - exclaimed the mother in the kitchen, washing the dishes. - Our Olya is studying for one five, and then she wants to learn to be a cook after school. And he aimed at politics ... You come down from heaven to earth. Last year, he wanted to study as a translator, before that he dreamed of a military school ...
“Maybe I should become a writer!” Andrey said dreamily. “It’s better to be a poet.” It's hard to write prose, all sorts of novels...
The father grabbed his son by his long hair and lifted him to his feet. The child was already taller than his father, but so far he did not show any resistance.
- That's what, writer! - Father said harshly. - Tomorrow you will go on a creative business trip to the village. Write a poem about a goat there ... Got it? Come back and read it aloud to me. So that the rhymes are fresh.
- All right, father! But there will be such an agreement. I save a poor goat from starvation, and in return you will send me to stay with Uncle Arthur in Germany. He lives in Cologne. I want to see the cathedral there. Try German beer. By the way, I don't get it. You and Uncle Arthur are two brothers. One is German, the other is Russian. Although the parents are the same. How did it happen?
- You will ask your grandmother about this in the village. She is to blame for everything, - said the mother. - Your grandmother was a tractor driver when she was young, she raised virgin soil in Kazakhstan ...
- Good! - said the father. - I agree! Today I'll call Germany.
- OK! This is a topic of conversation!
- Visit your grandfather's grave! Say hello to our neighbors, - mother began to give instructions, - with the village guys, Andryusha, don’t mess around, they all drink vodka from a young age.
Take your mobile phone with you. If you call...
-OK! I understand not small. Zadolbali their Soviet upbringing.
Mother still wanted to add something, but only exchanged a worried look with her father, and fell silent.
In the morning she accompanied them to the village bus, put the bag with the gifts, and again with incomprehensible excitement, said in the end:
- If something goes wrong, you don’t scold your grandmother. She buried her husband, whom she met in the virgin lands - she became completely different ... Well, with God!
- Okay, mom! Why don't we understand, - said Olga. She put on a new colored dress, sewn with her own hands, and looked like a painted nesting doll in it. - Soviet power, bread cards, red terror ...
- You should definitely go home, - Andrey said, pulling his long hair at the back of his head into a braid. - You won’t listen to all your lectures in a year. The communists have been reading morality to you all your life, now you have shaken us already.
They arrived in the village only in the evening - my grandmother lived so far away. They found her house - a small one, under aspen shingles, with peeling windows, on which wooden carvings were preserved in places, with an odorous fence covered with hops, and a gate that creaked half the village.
This dwelling was wide open, although there was no one inside. In the kitchen, sour dough climbed out of the tub, everywhere there were some bundles with things, as if the hostess was preparing for an urgent evacuation. On the table stood an oblong basket full of mushrooms, probably picked in the morning. In the corner a smoky, old-framed icon shone dimly, from which the Mother of God gazed at the squalor of the village hut with infinite patience.
“Where is our heroic granny, Alexandra Nikolaevna?” Andrey said, hiding the bags under the bench.
“Why doesn’t she look after the dough!” Olga exclaimed, and quickly rinsing her hands under the washbasin, she began to knead the kvass.
The thin arms of the girl, sharp at the elbows, quickly moved back and forth.
- No, Andrew, it's a mess! Look, the mushrooms are standing - they have already wilted. Her floor has not been washed for a long time. I don't like this...
She found a large basin, knocked over the mushrooms from the basket, poured them with a bucket of cold water.
- What are you doing here, - my brother muttered. - You and I are just guests here ...
- Oh, something is not right here ... My heart senses.
- Okay, stop ranting. Let's go find the owner. She, I suppose, dries the hay. Why does she need a goat, I can’t get it.
- Yes, Andryusha let's go faster!
And they went to the back of the estate. The weather was exceptionally good. The smell of mowed and withering grass was intoxicating, and it seemed that even the puffy clouds in the sky, wandering around the world, also smelled of hay. And the fields, and the road, dried up from the heat, and the neighboring villages, scattered across the green space, and all of Russia at this time smells of hay. This smell from the earth to the stars, and there are so many stars over this country that they have not yet been counted.
Multi-colored butterflies flitted everywhere, as if flowers had come to life, taken off from plants. From the bird cherry tree, a titmouse watched them with a predatory look. Sometimes she flew up rapidly, and swallowed one of them on the fly, as if extinguishing multi-colored lanterns in the air.
- Oh, how wonderful! - Olga spread her arms. - It's good that they escaped from the city. They would have sat there sour ... They listened to your nonsense. I, perhaps, a bunch of narva ... The flowers are fresh, only in the morning they washed themselves with dew.
And she skipped running across the meadow. From each flower, before picking it, it was necessary to politely send out a bee, or a wasp. Without asking permission, they stole nectar, and did not want to give up the prey. Summer was generous - it gave everyone, no matter how many insects there were, a flower.
Inside the clover head, which looked like a pink mini-hat, a large, velvety-backed bumblebee swarmed, purring in a bass voice.
Seeing the girl, he immediately took off from the plant, and rushed to her colored dress, mistaking it for a large outlandish flower.
Olga waved her hands, evading such an insistent acquaintance.
- Shout ... Shout, I say ... Get out. Wow, what an addictive one. Mom-ah! - she squealed, and ran away. The bumblebee first rushed after her, but then left the pursuit.
Grandmother was found on the bank of a small stream that skirted the back of the village. She slept peacefully, leaning against a fresh pile of hay. A towel was spread out on the grass. On it lay boiled eggs, bread, onions. And there was a half-drunk bottle of wine, stuffed with a bunch of grass.
Olga's face was covered with spots at first, then the girl turned deathly pale.
-Grandmother! Wake up! - she screamed heart-rendingly.
The old woman muttered something unintelligible, without opening her eyes she pulled a scarf over her face, and began to snore more than ever, interspersing groans with deep whistles.
- Normalek, however! Andrey grunted, looking around. “Wow, the village ... Yes, here I see not only young people, everyone is thoroughly stormed ...
- Is she drunk?
- Can't you see? There and the glass is lying in the grass. Haymaking is fun.
- Our grandmother is drunk! How is that? Olga groaned with squeamish bewilderment, and even jumped aside.
- We'll wake you up now, - Andrei said confidently. - It's not the time to sleep in such a hot time.
He touched the old lady on the shoulder.
Hello, citizen! Don't sleep. Present the documents ... Do you happen to sell a goat cheaply?
The old woman threw her scarf off her head and sat down. She looked terrible. Her gray hair hung in clumps, her wrinkled face was swollen, her eyes stared blankly at the world.
Olga groaned and folded her arms over her chest, as if she was about to cross herself. Eyelashes did not often tremble.
Who are those? - the old woman asked hoarsely.
Nothing to trample the grass. Shit told you...
- Grandma, hello! We are your grandchildren. They've come to help you. Our parents sent us...
- Take the landing, grandma! Just got off the bus. Five hours to get to you.
- What other grandchildren? - the old woman croaked in bewilderment, shaking her disheveled head like a witch.
- Do you have any grandchildren? What are you, grandma? Oh my God, she doesn't understand anything...
Olga has already begun to sob. For her, the world has turned upside down. All the grandmothers she knew from children's fairy tales were wise and kind. There were no drunken grandmothers in any book.
- I have many grandchildren... Who live here, who travel abroad. What is your name?
She had already woken up completely, and was collecting a meal in a towel. She plugged the unfinished bottle of wine with an additional bunch of grass, smiling toothlessly, carefully lowered it into the pocket of the old woman's jacket.
- My name is Olya, and this is Andrey!
- And where is Ninochka? Where is Martha?
- So they are in Germany ... What are you, grandmother? I completely forgot. We are the children of your son Igor, And Nina and Marta are the children of your son Arthur. Uncle Arthur and his whole family now live in Germany ... Did you understand something, or what?
“Yes!” she answered, rising to her feet with a groan. “Because we registered Igorka as a Russian according to the metrics, and Arthur was identified as the Germans ...
- It would be better if you wrote down our father as a German, - Andrey grumbled. - We would also have gone beyond the cordon.
- You, grandmother, now understand everything?
Olga began to tuck her gray hair into her kerchief and shake hay from her jacket. She tried to quietly pull a bottle of wine out of her pocket and throw it into the bushes, but the old woman, smiling predatory, silently grabbed her thin, pale hand.
- The devil will never understand you. Previously, all houses lived. Houses lived and houses died. And so you came to visit me. I am always happy to have guests. Welcome! I felt like you were sorry. In the morning I went to the forest for mushrooms. Today, mushrooms themselves jump into the basket. Put the dough on the pies.
- We grandmother came to help you prepare hay for a goat. Andrey knows how to mow...
- I don't have any goat...
- Ahtung!
- How is it not? Grandma, aren't you awake yet? Lord, what is this?
- I sold a goat...Two weeks ago. There is no milk now, but now I have money for wine, - and she shook in a stupid, drunken laugh.
- And why are you drying hay? - Olga, discouraged, pointed to the finished hay.
- And out of habit ... I mowed all my life, and now I'm mowing. I will sell it to someone in the winter.
- End the alarm! The ancestors caused a panic with this goat. She no longer needs gum.
- So we can go back now? - Olga said in confusion.
- But no! I'm not supposed to. We will cook pies with mushrooms and green onions. And don't leave now. The bus will go to the city only in the morning ... Let's go, dear grandchildren, to the house!
And she walked briskly down the path. The grandchildren followed her. In the yard, my grandmother washed herself straight from the tub with warm rainwater, combed her hair, and her eyes immediately looked younger.
“You don’t listen, kids, to what I told you just now,” she said guiltily. “Don’t tell your parents about the goat and wine ... I’m afraid they might take me to the city. They put me in a cell, they tell me to live according to a schedule ... Here in the village I have paradise, and there is forced labor.
- Okay, grandma! - Olga smiled. - Just don't drink wine anymore. My heart skipped a beat as I saw you drunk just now.
At home they began to cook pies. Olga was sorting a mushroom basket, Andrei, having picked green onions in the garden, chopped them on a cutting board with a large homemade knife. Tight, juicy feathers creaked and fell off in shimmering green rings. Large white eggs tapped in a saucepan on the stove. The pies were expected to be great.
- Grandmother, why are your things packed? - Olga asked, pointing to the bundles placed throughout the hut. - Are you going to move somewhere?
- Or do you have air raid exercises in the village planned? - Andrey chuckled.
- Oh, kids. Your grandfather and I were once burned by lightning.
Now there are thunderstorms and I'm more afraid of death. I gathered all my things in advance. Last time, I couldn’t save anything, - she exclaimed, kneading the dough. - And I’ll give you orders. If there is no thunderstorm, Andryusha, grab the bundle under the icon, and you Olenka, a blue-striped sheet. All my photos are there. My husband, that is your grandfather, children... There is one card from virgin lands. But God willing, everything will be fine.
- Grandma, how did you meet your husband? Mom says that you were a tractor driver in the virgin lands, - Olga asked, carefully removing the places affected by the worm from the mushrooms.
- It was such a thing! - the grandmother laughed. - The party then threw the cry "Girls on the tractor." I studied, and on a Komsomol ticket I went to distant lands. I had never seen such steppes before, but then I had to plow them up ... One guy worked in our brigade. Tractor repair. Such a tall, curly, gray eyes, well, just a prince from a fairy tale. When I saw him for the first time, I immediately thought with a sinful deed: “I wish I had such a husband, and bring me to my village. Everyone would burst with envy!
- Well, did you bring it, grandmother? - Olga shouted fervently. - She had completely calmed down, and her cheeks were burning with a healthy blush.
- We know it! I wasn't beautiful too. Wrapped the boy around like he was cute. And dragged her to the registry office, and with a ready belly came to the village. So the Komsomol girl mastered the virgin lands for a short time ...
- Oh, grandmother, well done you! - Olga stamped her foot. - Wow, what a character you had ... Fighting!
- Only one embarrassment, granddaughter, came out ... For a lifetime, one misunderstanding happened.
- Wow! Interesting!
- Everyone in the brigade called him Anton. Anton and Anton! And the surname seems to be Krugin! And when they began to sign in the registry office, it turned out that he was not Anton at all, and not Krugin, but according to his documents Axel Kruger. German! I, a fool, in love, was I interested in nationality? And even if she knew what the point was? I didn't want to see anyone else around. One Kazakh followed me, proposed marriage... But he is from a different faith... Than to marry a Kazakh, it's better to be a German. It's like our face. However, I refused to take his last name. I’m Kuznetsova, we are all Kuznetsovs in the family, why the hell do I need these Krugers ... But we decided amicably with the children, so that there was justice. When our first son was born, I gave in to my husband. Give him, they say, your last name and nationality. And so Arthur appeared, who now lives in the German side. And your father was registered according to my documents. He is Kuznetsov, and therefore you are the Kuznetsovs ... The next son would again be called Kruger, and the fourth one would be called again according to our pedigree. So we agreed Who knows, maybe we would have reached a dozen, but my Anton died early, two children were just born. She sighed heavily and bowed her head sadly. “Without him, I don’t have more sunshine in this life. I can’t wait until we meet in the next world.”
- You had a bad family contract, granny. I'd rather have a German surname. You could go to Germany. Tired of this bastard Russia. My father worked all his life as an engineer at the plant, but what did he buy? Uncle Arthur already has three cars in the family...
- Don't whine, Andryushka! Where he was born, he came in handy there, - Olga exclaimed. - And I like my surname ...
- Why are you messing with mushrooms for a long time? grumbled the grandmother. “So we won’t bake piprogs by morning.”
- I do not know many mushrooms that you have collected. This one, for example, what is it called?
- Wolf sneeze!
- And this little one?
- Hare honey agaric? And that one is a dog bastard!
- You can die of laughter ... I have never seen such names in any book.
Only at sunset did my grandmother bake her famous pies. Half wrapped in a clean towel - a gift to parents. Andrei greedily pounced on the treat. Olga also ate two pies and began to clean the hut. Grandmother anxiously looked out the window, and often crossed herself. A thunderstorm was gathering there. Then she turned off the light and lit a small thin candle, from which a delicate pleasant aroma went through the hut.
Electricity attracts lightning, she explained. Andryushka? Olushka? Be alert!
- Oh, grandma! Don't intimidate yourself. Only one lightning out of a million ignites fires on earth, - Andrey grinned, lustfully tearing off the top fried crust from the pie, under which even more fragrant stuffing came out of steam.
- Grandmother! And you don't need electricity. Let the candle burn. It's like we're going to supper in the old days.
There was no real thunderstorm. The clouds gradually parted. Lightning gored the village from all sides and died out. Thunder, like a giant in iron boots, walked along the roof, and, grumbling, drowned behind the forest.
- God bless! It's gone! - the grandmother said cheerfully, crossed herself again, and suddenly, spreading her arms wide, fluttered easily into the middle of the hut. Then, waving her handkerchief to herself, she famously began to make dance steps, similar either to the “Lady”, or “Gypsy”, fashionable in very distant years. So young, with enthusiasm. She walked around the table several times, stamped her heel, winked at her stunned granddaughter, and sang:

Oh you virgin land
- Nights are star-long
- Will I see soon
- Your beloved in the steppe region

And she circled the table again. Olga tightly clasped her fingers and turned pale. Following the virgin song, the grandmother sang some obscene ditty, and when, at the next dance step, she brushed a tea saucer to the floor, which broke with a deafening ring, Olga's piercing cry was heard:
- Grandmother? Why did you drink wine again?
- Shout me, pointer! - angrily shouted out the grandmother. - Why did you hide my wine?
- I poured it out! Grandma, don't drink anymore. I'm begging you. - There were notes of desperation in her voice.
- So what! She poured out. And I have vodka. Yes, I drank and still drink ...
- Don't, grandma! Do you hear! I can't take it.
- If you don't like me, then you can leave my house. At least this moment.
She went to the cupboard, defiantly pulled out a bottle of vodka, poured herself another glass and drank. Then she showed Olga, who was in a semi-conscious state, a shish, and again went to describe drunken circles. The girl followed her and cried, repeating the same words. This went on for a long time.
- All! They got me ... There were not enough tantrums here. I’ll call home, - Andrey said sternly and pulled out a mobile phone from his bag ...
Early in the morning, my father arrived in the village on a factory bus. The grandmother was submissive and silent. Her father put her in the front seat. Olga, exhausted, swollen with tears, was placed in the back row. Father and Andrey pulled off the pre-prepared knots inside. A large lock was hung on the house.
- Let's go! - ordered the father to the driver, and lit a sullen cigarette.