Semyon Altov read online stories. Monologues of pop artists

12.06.2019

Semyon Altov
From the book "Carousel" 1989
Someone else's passenger
Tube with ultramarine
Birthday girl
Last time
Who's there?
Around the world
Good parenting
Masterpiece
Felicita
Bites
Chain length
Choir
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
Road traffic accident
On September 16 of this year, an accident occurred on Posadskaya Street. Truck driver Kubykin, noticing a woman standing at a pedestrian crossing, braked to let the pedestrian pass. Citizen Rybets, to whom not a single car or even a horse had ever given way in her life, continued to stand, waiting for the car to pass.
Kubykin, making sure that the woman was not going to cross, set off. Rybets, seeing that the truck was moving slowly, figured that, as usual, she would have time to get through, and rushed across the road. The driver suddenly braked and made a hand gesture, saying, come on in, citizen!
Rybets interpreted the gesture as meaning “get out before you move!” and rushed back onto the sidewalk, waiting, in her words, “for this crazy person to pass.” The driver, deciding that the woman was strange, sounded a warning horn just in case.
Rybets realized that he was buzzing, mistaking her for deaf, and shook her head, saying, “I’m not as deaf as you think.”
Kubykin interpreted 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’m driving slowly, you’ll pass!” and rushed across. The truck stopped. The fisherman stopped, not knowing at what speed he would go, without which he would not be able to calculate at what speed he should run across.
Kubykin came to the conclusion that the woman was crazy. Backing up, he disappeared around the corner so that she could calm down and move on. Rybets figured out the maneuver like this: the driver wants to accelerate and jump out at full speed! That's why I didn't switch.
When Kubykin came around the corner forty minutes later, the woman stood rooted to the spot on the sidewalk. The truck backed away, not knowing what to expect from her. Kubykin, sensing that this would not end well, decided to make a detour and take a different road. When the truck disappeared again, Rybets, not knowing what this guy was up to, ran in a panic through the courtyards, shouting: “They’re killing, save us!”
At 19.00 at the corner of Posadskaya and Bebel they flew towards each other. Kubykin barely managed to brake. The fisherman barely had time to cross herself.
Realizing that “the truck won’t leave without crushing her,” she showed Kubykin a cookie, saying, “You can’t crush her!”
Kubykin, who, according to him, already had circles floating before his eyes, saw a fig in the red circle and mistook it for road sign"Driver! Clear the roadway!" and drove onto the sidewalk, clearing the highway for the idiot.
Rybets, realizing that the driver was completely drunk and would crush her on the sidewalk, where strangers could get hurt, made the only right decision: she rushed towards the car, deciding to take the hit herself.
Kubykin backed up. Rybets did the same. They maneuvered like this for three hours. It began to get dark.
And then it dawned on Kubykin: his aunt was well run over as a child, and he obviously looks like the driver who didn’t run over her! So that she would not be afraid of him, Kubykin pulled the black tights that he bought for his wife over his face. Having looked closely, Rybets recognized Kubykin as a particularly dangerous criminal, whose photo was published in the newspaper. Rybets decided to neutralize him and shouted “Hurray!” threw a can of milk at the car. Kubykin turned to the side and crashed into a lamppost, which, falling, crushed a certain Sidorchuk, who the police had actually been looking for for five years.
This is how, thanks to the decisive actions of citizens, he was especially detained dangerous criminal.
________________________________________________________________________
Someone else's passenger
The mourners had already exited the carriages when a man with a suitcase rushed across the platform.
Having reached the sixth carriage, he burst into the vestibule and, handing the ticket to the conductor, sighed: “Ugh, you barely made it!”
- Just a minute! - the girl in the cap said sternly. We made it, but we didn’t go there. This is not your train!
- Why 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 diesel locomotive whistled and the train slowly moved away.
- Wait! - shouted the passenger, picking up speed along with the train. - I bought a ticket! Let me in! - He grabbed the handrail with his hand.
- I'll fit you in! - the conductor barked. - Put your hands back! Don't touch someone else's train! Run to the ticket office, change your ticket, then sit down if you catch up! Or go to the foreman! He's in the tenth carriage!
The citizen increased his speed and, reaching the tenth carriage, yelled at open window:
-- Sorry! I have a ticket for the sixth carriage, but she says: not for my train!
The brigadier, straightening his cap in front of the mirror, without turning around, said:
- I'm doing a train tour now. If it's not too much trouble, stop by in about thirty minutes!
Half an hour later he returned and, taking the ticket through the window, began to look at it.
-- Everything is fine! They print it, right? You can't tell a damn thing! Tell Gala, I allowed it.
The passenger slowed down and, reaching the sixth car, shouted:
-- Check mark! It's me! Greetings from the foreman! He said: put me away!
The girl looked at the ticket with displeasure:
-- "He said"! You are in thirteenth place! Here! And a woman is already riding on it!
Unmarried! What will you do with it on the same shelf? I won't jail you! So tell it to the foreman!
The man cursed and ran to investigate.
The train had long since picked up speed and was rumbling at the junctions. The passengers began to lay out dinner on the tables.
- But comrade runs well. When I was his age, I used to run out in the mornings too!
- said a passenger in a tracksuit, chewing a sausage sandwich. “I bet he’ll be home before us!” The passenger in the bobcat stopped cutting the cucumber and remarked:
- Anyone can do it on asphalt. Let's see how he walks through the swamp, darling!
...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 and a T-shirt, but with a tie. At this time, auditors went through the carriages.
-Who is that running there?
“Yeah, like from our train,” someone said.
- From yours? - The auditor leaned out of the window. -- Comrade! Hey! Do you have a ticket?
The runner nodded and reached into his shorts for a ticket.
-- No need! I believe! We need to trust people! - said the auditor, addressing the passengers.
- Run, comrade! Run now that you have a ticket. And then, you know, some people strive for hare! At public expense! Bon Voyage!
A grandmother, her granddaughter and two men were traveling in the compartment. The grandmother began to feed the girl with a spoon, saying:
- This is for mom! This is for dad! This is for that uncle who runs to his grandmother!
At the same time, the men clinked glasses and repeated: “For dad! For mom! For that guy!”
The conductor went to serve tea. Passing by the window, behind which a passenger was looming, she asked:
- Shall we drink tea?
He shook his head.
- Well, as you wish! My job is to offer! - the conductor was offended.
The passengers began to go to bed. Four women rushed around the carriage for a long time, changing places with their neighbors in order to find themselves in the same compartment without men. After a long bargaining, we managed to exchange the entire girl’s compartment. Happy, the women were lazily changing clothes for bed, and then a lady in a red robe noticed a man running with a suitcase in the window.
- Girls! He saw everything! “She indignantly tore the curtain, and it, naturally, fell with a metal pin onto the table. The women screamed, hiding their charms in all directions.
Finally the curtain was fixed, in the dark they talked for a long time about how arrogant the men were 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? Sounds like a locomotive!
- Yes, this is a steam locomotive! - said the woman from the bottom bunk.
-- No need! The locomotive does this: “Uh-uh...”, and this one: “Uh-uh!” I'm having bad dreams! - The lady in the red robe knocked on the glass:
- Can you be quieter?! You are not alone here.
...The man ran. Maybe he got a second wind, but he ran with some kind of shining eye. And suddenly he sang: “Over the valleys and over the hills...”
An old man in a Panama hat, who was reading a newspaper and myopically running his nose along the lines, listened and said:
- Sang! Really crazy! Escaped from the hospital!
“Not from any hospital,” the man in pajamas yawned. -It's called hitchhiking! People are hitchhiking. So you can run around the whole country. It’s cheap, convenient and you feel like a person because you don’t depend on anyone. You're running along fresh air, but it’s stuffy here and someone is bound to snore!
Necessarily!
The conductor of the sixth carriage sat in the compartment and noisily drank tea, looking out the window.
There, in the light of rare lanterns, a man with a suitcase flashed. Under his arm, out of nowhere, he had a banner: “Welcome to Kalinin!”
And then the conductor could not stand it. Almost falling out the window, she screamed:
- Are you kidding me?! There is no peace day or night! Ripple in your eyes! Get out of here!
The passenger smiled strangely, blew the horn and rushed forward.
An overweight man carrying a suitcase was rushing towards him at full speed from Moscow and was continuously buzzing. right hand and with his wife on the left.
________________________________________________________________________
Tube with ultramarine
Burchikhin drank his first glass of beer competently, in four sips. He poured a second glass from the bottle, watched the foam move, and brought it to his mouth. He let the bursting bubbles tickle his lip and lustfully surrendered to the tingling cold moisture.
After yesterday's beer acted like living water. Burchikhin closed his eyes blissfully, stretching out the pleasure in small sips... and then he felt someone’s gaze on him. "What a reptile!" - thought Vitya, somehow finished his beer, loudly put the glass on the dirty table and looked around. Two tables away from him sat a skinny guy in a blue sweater, a long scarf wrapped around his non-existent neck, and a three-color fountain pen in his hands. The guy cast sharp glances at Burchikhin, as if checking him against something, and moved his fountain pen over the paper.
- Inventory of property, or what?! - Burchikhin said hoarsely, spat and walked towards the skinny one.
He smiled, continuing to scribble on the paper.
Burchikhin walked up heavily and looked at the sheet. Kuzmin's native street was drawn there, and on it... Burchikhin! The houses were green, Vitya was purple! But the worst thing is that Burchikhin was not Burchikhin!
The painted Burchikhin differed from the original in his clean-shaven face, cheerful eyes, and kind smile. He held himself unnaturally straight, with defiant pride! A beautifully tailored suit fitted Vitya’s figure. There was a red badge of some institute on his lapel. She has red shoes on her feet and a matching tie around her neck.
In a word, dude!
Burchikhin did not remember a greater insult, although he had something to remember.
-- So! - Vitya said hoarsely, straightening the collar of his wrinkled shirt. -Smearing? Who allowed you to abuse people?! If you don't know how to draw, sit and drink beer!
Who is this, well who, who? Am I?! And even in a tie! Ugh!
“It’s you,” the artist smiled. -- Of course, you. Only I allowed myself to imagine what you could be like! After all, as an artist, I have the right to fiction?
Burchikhin thought, staring at the paper.
- As an artist you have. What's sticking out of your pocket?
- Yes, this is a handkerchief!
- You’ll say the same, handkerchief! - Vitya blew his nose. - Why did you invent such eyes? I combed my hair, that's the main thing. Your chin turned out well, I can tell. - Burchikhin, sighing, put a heavy hand on the skinny man’s shoulder. - Listen, friend, maybe you're right? I didn't do anything bad to you. Why would you make this up? Right? And if I shave, wash, change my clothes, I’ll be like in the picture!
Easily!
Burchikhin looked into his clear violet eyes, tried to smile a painted smile and felt pain in his cheekbone from the disturbed scratch.
- Will you?
Vitya held out a pack of Belomor, 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,” explained the artist, “now you have a scratch there.” It will heal, but the mark will remain.
- Will stay, you say? It's a pity. It could have been a good cheek. What's the badge for?
The artist leaned towards the paper.
- It says "Technological Institute" here.
- Do you think I’ll finish college? - Burchikhin asked quietly.
The artist shrugged:
- You see! Enter and finish.
- And in family terms, what is expected? - 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 drew a child’s figurine next to it.
-- Girl? - Burchikhin asked in falsetto.
-- Boy.
- Who is the woman? Judging by the dress, Lucy?! Who else has a green dress?
“Galya,” the artist corrected.
- Galya! Ha ha! That's what I notice, she doesn't want to see me! Which means he’s flirting! Well, women, tell me, yes? - Vitya laughed, not feeling the pain from the scratch. And you are a good man! - He slapped the artist on his narrow back. - Do you want some beer?
The artist swallowed his saliva and whispered:
-- Very! I really want beer!
Burchikhin called the waiter.
- A couple of Zhiguli! No, four!..
Vitya poured the beer, and they began to drink in silence. Emerging in the middle of the second glass, the artist, gasping for breath, asked:
-- What is your name?
- I am Burchikhin!
- You see, Burchikhin, I’m actually a marine painter.
“I understand,” said Vitya, “they are treating it now.”
“Here, here,” the artist rejoiced. - I need to draw the sea. My lungs are bad. I need to go south, to the sea. To ultramarine! This color is of no use here. And I love ultramarine undiluted, pure. Like sea! Can you imagine?
Burchikhin, the sea! Living sea! Waves, cliffs and foam!
They threw foam from their glasses under the table and lit a cigarette.
“Don’t worry,” said Burchikhin. -- Well?! Everything will be fine! You should sit in your shorts by the sea with ultramarine! Everything is ahead of you!
-- Is it true?! - The artist’s eyes flashed and became as if they had been 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!
- You will say the same - a yacht! - The artist shook his head thoughtfully. - Maybe a boat, huh?
-- Certainly! And even better - both a boy and a girl! Here on your balcony you can easily fit a little girl! - Burchikhin hugged the artist by the 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 it to you! Do you want me to give it to you?!
“Thank you,” said Vitya. -- Thank you friend! Just take the tie off your neck: I can’t see it on myself—it’s hard to breathe!
The artist scratched on the paper, and the tie turned into the shadow of the jacket. Burchikhin carefully took the sheet and, holding it in front of him, walked between the tables, smiling with a painted smile, walking more and more firmly and confidently. The artist finished his beer and took out Blank sheet and placed it on the wet table. He smiled and gently stroked the side pocket where the unopened tube of ultramarine lay. Then he looked up at the snotty boy at the next table. He had a tattoo on his arm: “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. “That’s why we’ll celebrate Birthday Day.” I’ll ask you, Galochka, to list the people who are turning forty this year, fifty, sixty, and so on until the end. We'll celebrate everyone at once on Friday. And so that this day will be etched in people’s memories, we’ll give forty-year-olds ten, fifty-year-olds twenty, and so on until the end.
An hour later the list was ready. The director ran his eyes over it and shuddered:
-- What's happened?! Why is Efimova M.I. turning one hundred and forty years old?! Do you think you are writing?!
The secretary was offended:
- How old can she be if she was born in 1836?
- Some kind of nonsense. - The director dialed the number. - Petrov?! It's a mess again!
Why is Efimova M.I. one hundred and forty years old? Is she working as a monument for us?! Is that what it says in your passport?.. Did you see it yourself?! Hmmm. Here's a woman working hard.
The director hung up and lit a cigarette. “What kind of idiocy! If for forty years we give ten rubles, for one hundred and forty... one hundred and ten rubles, take it out and put it in, right?!
This cunning woman is Efimova M.I.! To hell with her! Let everything be beautiful. At the same time, there will be an incentive for the rest. For that kind of money, anyone can reach one hundred and forty!”
The next day, a poster appeared in the lobby: “Congratulations to the birthday people!” Below in three columns were the names, ages and amounts corresponding to the ages. Against M.I. Efimova’s surname there was: “140 years - 110 rubles.”
People crowded around the poster, checking their names with those written as if they were lottery table, sighed and went to congratulate the lucky ones. They approached Marya Ivanovna Efimova hesitantly. 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 year of birth was mistakenly written in my passport as 1836, but in fact it’s 1936! It’s a typo, you understand?!”
The colleagues nodded their heads, shook her hand and said: “Well, nothing, nothing, don’t be upset! You look great! No one 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 called and strangers, who heartily congratulated Marya Ivanovna on her wonderful anniversary.
Then they brought three more telegrams, two bouquets and one wreath. And at ten in the evening it rings child's voice V handset said:
-- Hello! We, students of School No. 308, have created a museum of Field Marshal Kutuzov!
We want to invite you as a participant in the Battle of Borodino...
- Shame on you, boy! - shouted Marya Ivanovna, choking on validol. - The Battle of Borodino took place in 1812! And I was born in 1836!
You have the wrong number! - She slammed the phone down.
Marya Ivanovna slept poorly and called the ambulance twice.
On Friday by 17.00 everything was ready for the celebrations. A sign was attached above Efimova’s workplace with the inscription: “Efimova M.I. works here, 1836-1976.”
At half past five the assembly hall was full. The director came to the podium and said:
- Comrades! Today we want to congratulate our birthday people, and first of all - Efimova M.I.!
The audience applauded.
- This is who our youth should follow as an example! I would like to believe that over time our youth will become the oldest in the world! All these years Efimova M.I. was an executive employee! She constantly enjoyed the respect of the team! We will never forget Efimova, a competent engineer and a pleasant woman!
Someone in the hall sobbed.
- No need for tears, comrades! Efimova is still alive! I want her to remember this special day for a long time! Therefore, let's give her a valuable gift in the amount of one hundred and ten rubles, wish her further success, and most importantly, as they say, health! Enter the birthday girl!
To the roar of applause, two warriors brought Marya Ivanovna onto the stage and seated her in a chair.
- Here it is - our pride! - The director's voice rang. -Look, will you give her a 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 Vasilyevna became. She mechanically straightened a strand that had not fallen out from under her scarf and, having forgotten herself, talked to herself.
“When will this end?! There’s not a week without being called to school! In the sixth grade, such a bully, but will he grow up?! And you spoil, and beat, and as they teach on TV, you suffer! It’s all in vain! And there’s nothing left to beat six months, and then suddenly he’ll give back? That’s a healthy guy! - Galina Vasilievna thought proudly.
Having climbed the stairs, she stood for a long time in front of the director’s office, not daring to enter. But then the door opened and Fyodor Nikolaevich, the director, came out.
Seeing Serezha’s mother, he smiled and, grabbing her by the arm, dragged her into the office.
“The point is this...” he began.
Galina Vasilyevna looked intensely into the director's eyes, not hearing the words, trying to determine by the timbre of her voice the amount of material damage caused by Seryozhka this time.
“This doesn’t happen every day at our school,” said the director. - Yes, sit down! We do not want to leave this action unnoticed.
“Then ten rubles for the glass,” Galina Vasilyevna recalled sadly, “then Kuksova for the briefcase with which Seryozhka Ryndin beat, eight fifty!
Causing bodily harm to a skeleton from a zoology classroom - twenty rubles!
Twenty rubles per kilogram of bones! Well, and the prices! What am I, a millionaire or what?!
"
“Listen to the letter we received...” came to Galina Vasilievna.
“My God!” she gasped. “What kind of punishment is this? You’ve been putting him through this alone since he was three years old! Your whole life is for him! Dress him, put him in shoes, feed him, so that he’s like other people!”
It's okay, but he..."
- “The management of the metal plant,” the director read with expression, “asks for gratitude and awards a valuable gift to the student of your school, Sergei Petrovich Parshin, who committed a heroic act. Sergei Petrovich, risking his life, carried one three children out of a burning kindergarten... "
“One - three,” Galina Vasilievna repeated to herself. - And how did one cope with three?! The spitting image of a bandit! Why do other people have children like children? Kirillova has Vitka playing the trumpet! Lozanova’s girl sleeps until the evening when she comes home from school!
Where does this guy disappear all day long?! I bought a piano at a thrift store. It's old, but there are keys! Have you ever sat down without a belt?! He won’t perform scales by heart!
"There is no rumor"! What does he have?!"
- That’s it, dear Galina Vasilievna! What a guy we raised!
He took three kids out of the fire! This has never happened in our school before! And we won’t leave it like that! Tomorrow...
“Of course, you won’t leave me,” Galina Vasilievna closed her eyes. “Probably, take out twenty-five rubles and put them in! Now he’ll say: “For the last time!” And at home he’ll run after Seryozhka again with a belt and beat him if I catch up. And he’ll scream : "Mommy!
Last time! Mommy!" Lord! And then all over again! Yesterday he appeared covered 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 ceremony.” We'll announce everything there! - the director finished smiling.
- Comrade director! Last time! - Galina Vasilyevna jumped up, mechanically crumpling the form lying on the table in her hands. - I give you my word, this won’t happen again!
-- But why? - The director gently unclenched her fist and took the form. -If a boy did this at the age of thirteen, then what is he capable of in the future?!
Can you imagine if we all had these?
-- God forbid! - Galina Vasilievna whispered.
The director walked her to the door and shook her hand firmly.
- You should celebrate your son at home as best you can!
Galina Vasilyevna stood on the street, breathing deeply so as not to cry.
- If I had a husband, he would celebrate as expected! And I’m a woman, what will I do with him? Everyone has fathers, but he doesn’t! So it grows on its own! Well, I'll whip you... She went into the store, bought two bottles of milk and one cream cake.
“I’ll give you a spanking, then I’ll give you some milk and cake and go to bed!” And then, lo and behold, he’ll go crazy and become a man...
________________________________________________________________________
Who's there?
Galya checked once again whether the windows were closed, hid the matches and, sitting down by the mirror, said, separating the words from her lips with movements of her lipstick:
- Svetochka, mom went to the hairdresser... A nice guy will call male voice, you will say: “Mom has already left.” This is the hairdresser... A nasty female voice will call and ask: “Where is Galina Petrovna?” This is from work. You say: “She went to the clinic... to be discharged!” Don't get confused. You are a smart girl. You are six years old.
“It will be seven,” Sveta corrected.
- It will be seven. Do you remember who can open the door?
“I remember,” answered Sveta. - No one.
-- Right! - Galya licked her painted lips. - Why can’t you open it, remember?
- Grandma says: “Bad bandits with axes walk up the stairs, pretending to be plumbers, aunts, uncles, and they themselves saw up naughty girls and drown them in the bathtub!” Right?
“That’s right,” said Galya, pinning the brooch. “Even though grandma is old, her hands are shaking, she’s broken all the dishes, but she really talks about the bandits... Recently, in one house, three plumbers came to fix a TV. The boy opened...
- And they took him with an ax - and into the bath! - suggested Sveta.
“If only,” Galya muttered, trying to fasten her brooch. “They drowned me in the bathtub and took everything out.”
- And a bath?
- They left the bath with the boy.
- Will grandma come and open it for her? - Sveta asked, unscrewing the doll’s leg.
- Grandma won’t come, she’s at the dacha. Will arrive tomorrow.
- What if today?
- I said: tomorrow!
- What if today?
- If today, it’s no longer a grandmother, but a bandit! He goes from house to house and steals children.
Where did I put the powder?
- Why steal children? — Sveta had twisted the doll’s leg and was now screwing it back. - Don’t the bandits have their own?
-- No.
- Why not?
- "Why, why"! - Galya did her eyelashes with mascara. - Because, unlike your daddy, they want to bring something into the house! They have no time! Any more stupid questions?

Altov Semyon

From the book "Chance"

(stories)

There lived a bird in a cage. It used to be that in the morning, when the sun would come out, it would chirp so joyfully that, half asleep, you just wanted to strangle her! Damn bitch! No, she sings amazingly, but you have to have a conscience early in the morning! We don’t live in the Philharmonic after all!

From sleep, the owners began to cover with obscene expressions, which fell on the bird's whistle, and what the musicians say was a rare, eden root, recitative.

And then the owners, the dog owners, as advised, covered the cage with a dark cloth. And a miracle happened. Kenyreechka shut up. Light doesn’t penetrate the cage, how does she know what dawned there? She keeps quiet in a rag. That is, the bird turned out with all the amenities. They’ll take off the rag, he sings, they’ll put it on, he’ll be silent.

Agree, it’s a pleasure to keep such a kennel at home.

Somehow they forgot to take off the cloth - the bird didn’t make a sound for a day. The second day - not a peep! The owners couldn't be happier. And there is a bird, and there is silence in the house.

And the little girl was confused in the darkness: you won’t understand where is day and where is night, even if you tweet at the wrong time. To avoid making a fool of himself, the bird stopped singing altogether.

One day, a little girl was peeling her own seeds in the dark, and suddenly, out of the blue, the rag fell off. The sun will splash into your eyes! Kenyreechka gasped, closed her eyes, then shed a tear, cleared her throat and started whistling the forgotten song.

She stretched out like a string, her eyes bulged, her whole body shuddered, she got a buzz. Wow she gave it away! She sang about freedom, about heaven, in a word, about everything that one 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! She fluttered out of the cage and let's do pretzels around the room! She sat down, happy, on the windowsill to catch her breath - ... dear mother! The window is open! There is freedom there, it couldn’t be freer! A piece of blue sky is inserted into the window, and a dove sits in it, higher up the cornice. Free!

Gray! Thick! He should be cooing about freedom, but he’s asleep, the old fool! I wonder why only those who don’t have it sing about freedom?

Kenyreyka jumped, and what did she see with horror?! Behind the glass on the ledge sits a red cat and, like a true lover of birdsong, licks his lips in anticipation.

Kenyreika’s heart snatched at her heels and “doo-doo-doo”... A little more and she would have freely fallen into the cat’s mouth. What the hell is this freedom for - to be eaten?

Pah-pah-pah!

The kennel shot back into its cage, closed the door with its paw, and pushed the latch with its beak. Ugh! It's calmer in the cage! The grille is strong! The bird can't fly out, but the cat can't get in either! The kennel chirped in joy. Freedom of speech in the absence of freedom of movement is not such a bad thing, if anyone understands! And the little girl sang in the cat’s face everything she was thinking! And although the cat didn’t see her through the glass, the bastard heard everything through the window. Because tears welled up in my eyes. So it’s arrived! When there is no opportunity to eat, all that remains is to admire the art.

Kenyreechka, I tell you, sang like never before! Because the closeness of the cat gave rise to inspiration, the lattice guaranteed freedom of creativity. And this is two necessary conditions to reveal a creative personality.

Janitor on the balcony

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

A sparrow would never rattle its paws like that... “A heron, or what? - Shtukin thought slowly from his sleep, “now I’ll hit it right in...” He had never seen a heron, so he had a vague idea of what he could hit it with. Shtukin went up to the balcony and for a long time rubbed his eyes, which did not want to wake up: behind the glass, instead of a heron, a tiny janitor in a yellow sheepskin coat was scratching. She broke the ice with a crowbar and sprinkled sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, with a crunch tore off the door that had been sealed for the winter and shouted:

Come on! By what right are you scratching, citizen?!

It's my duty! - The janitor straightened up sweetly. - Injuries on balconies are decreasing, the birth rate is rising. Otherwise there is no one to live.

What? You should also sprinkle sand on the roof! People don't break their legs where you fall! Herods! - the numb Shtukin was furious, wrapping himself in his home underpants.

Who’s stopping you from breaking your legs where it’s sprinkled? - The janitor looked into the room. - Oh you! Where do you get such dirt? Surely the tenant here is single! So be it, I’ll sprinkle some sand on it. - She generously poured from the bucket onto the floor. - Good parquet, Vietnamese! Sand is better, but salt can corrode it. In the forties, I salted the floor as requested, otherwise their drunken father-in-law would slip. Believe it or not, the entire parquet floor has become white! Salt whatever you want! But my father-in-law stopped drinking. I can’t, I said, hitting my forehead on the salty parquet, it makes me nauseous! And he hasn’t drunk for three days! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand along the way. - Are you shuddering from the cold or from passion? I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you're in your shorts right away. I'll put some tea on first. Wow! You have rutabaga! I'll make scrambled eggs with rutabaga. This is useful. And for men in general! You eat it and you’ll start attacking me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!

Oddly enough, the scrambled eggs with rutabaga turned out to be decent, and Shtukin again didn’t have dinner.

Well, I fed you. It's my duty. I guess I'll go before they attack me with rutabaga! - Maria Ivanovna stepped towards the balcony.

No no! Please come here! - Shtukin gallantly opened the door. And then, as if on purpose, the neighbor’s dog and its owner jumped out onto the platform and froze in a stance, sniffing through four nostrils, not taking their eyes off the wild couple: Shtukin in shorts and a short, ruddy woman in a sheepskin coat. Blushing up to his knees, Shtukin slammed the door:

They caught me out of the blue, you bastards!

“I think you’ve disgraced me,” the janitor whispered.

What is this? You have disgraced me, fact! How can I prove that nothing happened between us? Once at night in your underpants next to a woman, they will say you’re a libertine!

The janitor, having poured sand under herself, fell into full height and burst into tears.

Such a tiny janitor, but she roared like the head of the RJU.

Fearing that the dogs and neighbors would burst in, Shtukin, bending down to where she was lying, stroked the janitor’s head with one hand, and squeezed her throat with the other:

Quiet! My dear! Shut up! People are sleeping! So what's now?! Don't get married...

Maria Ivanovna, stopping the roar, jumped up and, sniffling, whispered:

I agree to marriage. Oh, half past four! Get to bed quickly! Now it is our duty! Yes, you are still after rutabaga! I'm afraid of you! - the janitor laughed and, throwing off her sheepskin coat, jumped into bed, where she disappeared.

Altov Semyon

Gain altitude

(stories)

Violation

Policeman (stops the car). Sergeant Petrov! I'll ask for documents!

Driver. Good afternoon

P o st o v o y. The documents are yours! Rights!

Driver. And don't talk. Very hot.

P o st o v o y. Rights!

Driver. A?

P o st o v o y. Are you hard of hearing?

Driver. Speak louder.

P o st o y (yelling). You broke the rules! Your rights!

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

P o st o v o y. What, are you deaf? What sign is there? What sign is hanging?!

Driver. Where?

P o st o v o y. There, upstairs!

Driver. I see I'm not deaf.

P o st o v o y. What is the red one with the yellow one on top for?

Driver. By the way, there is something hanging there that needs to be removed - it’s distracting.

P o st o v o y. In the middle on a yellow background, what is so red that turns black?

Driver. Louder, it's very hot!

P o st o v o y. You deaf?

Driver. I have bad sight.

P o st o v o y. Deaf and also blind, or what?!

Driver. I can not hear!

P o st o v o y. How did you get behind the wheel?

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

P o st o v o y. The black arrow to the right is crossed out. What does it mean? I can not hear.

Driver. What, are you deaf? Crossed out? Wrong, put it, then crossed it out.

P o st o v o y. Are you out of your mind? This means you cannot turn right.

Driver. Who told you?

P o st o v o y. Do you think I'm an idiot?

Driver. You take on a lot. Which way do you think I turned?

P o st o v o y. We turned right.

Driver. What are you talking about? I was turning left. You're just standing on the wrong side.

P o st o v o y. God! Where is your left?

Driver. Here's my left. Here left hand, here's the right one! And you?

P o st o v o y. Ugh! Okay, there’s a passerby coming, let’s ask him. Thank God we are not all idiots. Comrade! Answer: which hand is the left, which is the right?

Passerby (standing to attention). Guilty!

P o st o v o y. I'm not asking your last name. Which hand is left, which is right?

P rokh o z h i y. The first time I've heard.

P o st o v o y. Not otherwise in madhouse day open doors. Which left hand is your right?

P rokh o z h i y. Personally, I have this one on the left and this one on the right. Or with today renamed?

Driver. But you didn’t believe it, Comrade Sergeant. You see, our hands match, but yours are mixed up.

P o st o y (looks at his hands in bewilderment). I don't understand anything.

P rokh o z h i y. I can go?

P o st o v o y. Go, go!

P rokh o z h i y. Where?

P o st o v o y. Go straight, without turning anywhere, and get away from here!

P rokh o z h i y. Thanks for the advice. And then I walk for two hours, I can’t figure out where! (Leaves.)

Driver. You need to do something with your hands. I won't tell anyone, but there may be trouble with your work.

P o st o v o y. And I'm talking about you to no one. Go! Yes, when you turn left, well, you turn right, driving there is prohibited, there is a cliff. But you can go there.

Pets' corner

It started on the seventeenth. I don’t remember the year and month, but it’s September twenty-third, that’s for sure. I was then promoted from the enterprise to jump with a parachute 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 presented me with a certificate and a healthy cactus. I couldn’t refuse, I dragged the freak home. I put it on the window and forgot about it. Moreover, I was tasked with navigating the terrain for the honor of the team.

And then one day, I don’t remember the year and month, but the date stuck - the tenth of May 1969 - I woke up in a cold sweat. You won’t believe it - a huge red bud was blazing on the cactus! The flower had such an effect on me that for the first time in long years impeccable service, I was three minutes late, for which the thirteenth salary was cut from me, so that others would be discouraged.

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

That's when I started collecting cacti. Two years later I had fifty grand!

Having familiarized myself with specialized 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 people barely survive in them.

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

I started a correspondence with cactus growers 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 grains. I planted it foolishly. This disgrace grew very quickly. But when I realized what it was, it was too late! A huge baobab tree took root in the floor, climbed out of the window with branches and clung to the windows of the neighbors above. They filed a case in a comrades' court. I was given a fine of twenty-five rubles and ordered to cut off the branches of the neighbors above me every month and cut off the roots of the neighbors below me.

They sent so many seeds! Soon I had lemons, bananas and pineapples. Someone wrote to work that he didn’t understand how I could afford such a table with my salary. I was invited to the local committee, tasked with collecting money for a gift for Vasiliev and visiting him: “After all, the man is sick. He hasn't gone to work for two months now. Maybe he's thirsty."

I’m probably 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 vegetable world in general and animals in particular. I’m going sailing for a month, let Leshka stay with you during this time.”

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

Soon journalists began to come to me. They took photographs, interviews and pineapples.

I'm afraid I'll make a mistake in the chronology, but in the year when I harvested an unprecedented harvest of coconuts for our latitudes, the youngsters from the zoo brought a little tiger cub Caesar. In the same harvest year, the sailors of the motor ship “Crimea” gave me two lion cubs as a gift.

Stepan and Masha.

I never thought it was possible to eat so much! All salaries and pineapples not eaten by journalists were exchanged for meat. And I still had to mess around. But I didn’t feed in vain. A year later I had two decent lions and one tiger in the house. Or two tigers and one lion? But what does it matter?

When Caesar got along with Mashka, I thought I was going crazy! Stepan made wild scenes for me. And out of grief he killed the ostrich Hippolytus. But I had a free bed, because I threw out the nest that Ippolit had built in it as unnecessary.

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

Some hooligans planted a crocodile!

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

Only once did I lose heart and, as advised, I left the door open for the night. They said maybe someone would leave. The results exceeded all expectations. Not only did no one leave, but in the morning I discovered that I had three more cats, one mongrel, and a neighbor whose wife had left me. The next morning, a woman from 42, to whom her husband had returned, and a pensioner who suffered greatly from loneliness, asked to come to us. How would you like to display a couple with a one-year-old child? They said: “We can’t live with our mother-in-law anymore. Do whatever you want!” I allocated a place for them near the baobab tree.

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

Not long ago there was an excursion. People from out of town came to look at our living corner. Everyone remained except the guide. She followed the next group.

Yes, once it was anonymous. “Why are so many unregistered living creatures living illegally on an area of thirty-three square meters, while my husband and I are huddled together on an area of thirty-two square meters? Why are we worse than their cattle? We know who wrote it. This is from the thirty-fourth Thin Heavy Hand. She and her husband fight until they are bruised, and then they say that the animals have loosened their belts, unknown women pester!

Oh, I wish I could unleash Caesar and Stepan on them! Come on. Well, it turns out that if you live with wolves, everyone will howl like a wolf, or what?

Janitor on the balcony

Thinker

Feathered

Impossible man

Feeling

In a light bulb

Kir carving

Shot Sparrow

Sexsanfu

Surrounded by

Sense of taste

Instruction for singles

Set

Breadwinner

Tsunamochka

Eight and a half

Firebird

Horizons

Somersault of fate

Opener

How to get out of a hangover alive

At least that's it!

Wolves and sheep

Summer holiday time

Blood transfusion

Plastic surgery

Cucumbers

There lived a bird in a cage. It used to be that in the morning, when the sun would come out, it would chirp so joyfully that, in its sleep, one would almost want to strangle it! Damn bitch! No, she sings amazingly, but you have to have a conscience early in the morning! We don’t live in the Philharmonic after all!

From sleep, the owners began to cover with obscene expressions, which fell on the bird's whistle, and what the musicians say was a rare, eden root, recitative.

Agree, it’s a pleasure to keep such a kennel at home.

Somehow they forgot to take off the rag - the bird didn’t make a sound for a day. The second day - not a peep! The owners couldn't be happier. And there is a bird, and there is silence in the house.

Gray! Thick! He should be cooing about freedom, but he’s asleep, the old fool! I wonder why only those who don’t have it sing about freedom?

Kenyreyka jumped, and what did she see with horror?! Behind the glass on the ledge sits a red cat and, like a true lover of birdsong, licks his lips in anticipation.

Kenyreykin’s heart snatched at her heels and “doo-doo-doo”... A little more and she would have freely fallen into the cat’s mouth. What the hell is this freedom for - to be eaten?

Pah-pah-pah!

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

________________________________________________________________________

Janitor on the balcony

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

A sparrow would never rattle its paws like that... “A heron, or what?” Shtukin thought slowly from sleep, “now I’ll hit it right in the…” He had never seen a heron, so he had a vague idea of what it could do embed. Shtukin went up to the balcony and for a long time rubbed his eyes, which did not want to wake up: behind the glass, instead of a heron, a tiny janitor in a yellow sheepskin coat was scratching. She broke the ice with a crowbar and sprinkled sand from a children's bucket with a broom. Shtukin, waking up at once, with a crunch tore off the door that had been sealed for the winter and shouted:

Come on! By what right are you scratching, citizen?!

It's my duty! - The janitor straightened up sweetly. -- Injuries on balconies are decreasing, the birth rate is rising. Otherwise there is no one to live.

What? You should also sprinkle sand on the roof! People don't break their legs where you fall! Herods! - the numb Shtukin raged, wrapping himself in his home underpants.

Who’s stopping you from breaking your legs where it’s sprinkled? - The janitor looked into the room. -- Oh you! Where do you get such dirt? Surely the tenant here is single! So be it, I’ll sprinkle some sand on it. - She generously poured from the bucket onto the floor. - Nice parquet, Vietnamese! Sand is better, but salt can corrode it. In the forties, I salted the floor as requested, otherwise their drunken father-in-law would slip. Believe it or not, the entire parquet floor has become white! Salt whatever you want! But my father-in-law stopped drinking. I can’t, I said, hitting my forehead on the salty parquet, it makes me nauseous! And he hasn’t drunk for three days! Can you imagine? - The janitor slammed the door to the balcony and stomped into the kitchen, sprinkling sand along the way. - Are you shuddering from the cold or from passion? I am an honest woman, five thanks. And you're in your shorts right away. I'll put some tea on first. Wow! You have rutabaga! I'll make scrambled eggs with rutabaga. This is useful. And for men in general! You eat it and you’ll start attacking me! And my name is Maria Ivanovna!

Oddly enough, the scrambled eggs with rutabaga turned out to be decent, and Shtukin again didn’t have dinner.

Well, I fed you. It's my duty. I guess I'll go before they attack me with rutabaga! - Maria Ivanovna stepped towards the balcony.

When you think of Semyon Altov, what comes to your mind first? Of course, his way of speaking. It is partly what makes this satirical writer so hilarious and interesting. Of course the stories and monologues of Semyon Altov are interesting in themselves, they are funny, unusual and charged with a lot of positive energy.

We decided to post 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 enjoy reading the stories in this section.

Witness.

What she said? Can't make out a damn thing. Who is flying, where is he flying, what is he flying with... What did she say?!
I myself have something with my diction. Only when I speak. When I am silent, my speech is impeccable. But in public I get nervous, a mess of words. Happiness is when you are understood, right? I have misfortune. But there are advantages.
Thirty years ago, you were not yet in the world, I was sitting in the company. It seems like everyone has drunk and eaten, it’s time to leave. The music is screaming. To be heard, he muttered loudly:
“Goodbye, I’m leaving!”
And then the lady on the left stands up: “With pleasure!”
She understood - I invite you to dance.
And how I dance, you have to see it! I stomped on her feet, and to distract her, I said, “Hey, fisherman, we caught a lot of bream here.”
We danced. And when there was no music, I pulled myself together and said clearly:
- I’m not inviting 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 who knows when I received it!)
- Why not?
- Like almost everyone doesn’t.
- But it’s more convenient with a phone!
- Who can argue?
She says: “Write down my phone number. Call.
I thought she was crazy at the dance, she had designs on me.
I'm calling. It turned out that she was the wife of the head of the telephone center! And without a queue, without bribes, they will send me a mother-of-pearl apparatus! He danced famously!
What does it mean during whom it is necessary to say unintelligibly!
It doesn't happen once at a time. At the store I ask for one hundred grams of cheese, and they weigh out two hundred grams of lard.
I complain to the doctor about a tooth on the right; they remove it on the left.
And they beat me, it happened. Something to remember... At my birthday party I said to my neighbor, “Please serve me the duck.” So her brothers almost killed her! What did they hear?
There are a lot of inconveniences! You ask for a ticket to Moscow, but they give you one to Samara. We have to fly. They mistake him for someone, take him, give him water, put him to bed with an elderly woman, and she has indigestion. You need to hear this! But I'm silent. If you open your mouth, they will kill someone instead.
This is the diction...
The journalist tortured: “Don’t be afraid, a survey of the population, how do you like the president in general and in particular?”
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: “people in general are optimistic”
Problems with diction, problems. And who has normal diction, no problems?
At least I have some advantages.
I work part-time... You'll never guess who... A witness.
In court, I swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth. That’s what I’m saying, but it’s such a mess! Both the defense and the prosecution interpret it in their own way, as it suits them. Thanks to me, so many people were released... True, there were enough innocent people in the village.
At the same time, it’s convenient that I’m telling the truth, and nothing but the truth...
What did she say there, do you understand?...