Hangover

I
Sunflowers look bright, bright! They stood silently and looked together. They were doing something secret, something forbidden, they fixed on the footsteps of the old man, they look and keep silent. Like a group of children. If the bee has a language and is able to communicate and understand each other about their things, if the crane joins a flock and throws its queen in front, if the zombie grazes and while grazing gets angry at the departing foal and the foal understands, then every creature of God under this sky has its own human language. How is the forest progressing? he throws the bushes in front, the bushes go, he goes behind the bushes. A juniper bush clings to the bare slope of Mount Kaputler and calls up to the forest of the valley. Eh, it will call, it will call and it will dry up, because people and livestock have increased, they close the forest.
The story seems to be working, it's likely to be a good story. Anyway, I like this last paragraph. And my fatigue, the story, the expensive pack of cigarettes that I have emptied are all worth it. So the juniper tree calls the forest of the valley up to it, to go forward together until...
I went to wash, and was rewarded with cold water, soap, a hard towel, and, when I came out of the washroom, a girl with perky breasts; she was wearing, without a bra, a striped sailor's shirt, and was coming to wash; squinting his short-sighted eyes, he recognized me and smiled slightly, it's not for me, it's not healthy, good morning. whether we are close or not, in one of the rooms of the same corridor, he is there for me anyway, I am for him anyway, or.
My pants fit right on me and my legs are strong. The wide leather belt requires the buckle to be hemmed in the last holes - but the narrative works out well. A week's break will bring my strength back. A ruggedly beautiful sweater is warm and relaxed. Before giving birth, Hasmik was still able to finish the act and her finger games got a little harder. There is money for a taxi, if the pension is not given today, there is money for today's and tomorrow's living.
Eldar Guramishvili had boiled Siberian khinkali and brought two bottles of arazana from the store. Eldar is not writing now, but he will definitely start working soon, and it shows in his jealous care of me.
- What is your old man doing?
- Wandering in the garden, he thinks that the dogs are fighting, the fennel grass is being trampled.
- Is that what he thought tonight?
- No. it will still give birth to serfs, Tomoyents Avetik's generation marries in vain.
- It's bitter bidza.
- He knows his interest. Others later. first to himself.
- Serfdom has been abolished for a hundred years, who are they able to enslave?
- To care for orphaned women, fatherless children, the whole village.
"Um," he smiled. "Was your grandfather's name Avetik?"
- Almost.
- Eat, eat.
With butter and red pepper, the khinkali was easy to eat, not hard to eat. We mopped up the melted butter with bread, like Hemingway, and ate, the plates were cleared, we opened the bottles and drank the cold arzan in two gulps, and that greasy coldness was very pleasant after smoking all night.
- What is the name of the girl in 150 or 151?
- Which one, the Kazakh or the myopic?
- The short-sighted.
"Kazakh is a beauty," he said.
- So that the Mongolian anthrax does not knock on the door of his blooming Cilicia like a camel, the painter-poet-legislator-soldier Smbat Gundstable sent his entourage on horseback to the embassy through Darband-Hashtarkhan-Kazakhstan-Jahandamdarasi to the foot of the Great Mangu Khan, "my Cilicia trusts you as an ally".
- What is Cilicia?
- The Great Mangu doesn't know what Cilicia is, you know. we endured there for another three or four hundred years.
- Then, the mask of the Great Mangu looked and your Smbat did not understand whether he was looking at him or not, yes, he gave a sign to impale and your poet did not understand whether he liked him or not, yes?
- Yes, but he liked it, and Big Mangu gave a sign to slaughter a foal for the guest, to present a girl to the guest.
The elevator was busy, we buttoned up and went down quickly, quickly looked at the letter table, he found Hasmik's letter and gave it to me, "Our dog, my God, is a good dog, he tenses up, blushes, gets rid of gas and smiles!" and we went out. We bought newspapers from the kiosk and waited for a taxi. It was dry and cold, the heat had not yet warmed up.
- In the southern desert - a high pedestal, on the pedestal - a large tomato, "thank you, tomato, with the bright faith of a Christian, you place yourself on the altar of the world."
I liked it. I saw that shiny red tomato.” “What's that?” I asked.
- We don't erect a monument to idle things, so I will build a high pedestal for the state of Chomal, I will go to the Sahara, I will put my high pedestal in the raging sun with a tomato on its head, a red tomato, let it give light to the hungry country.
He is always light-hearted and I love his light-heartedness. with his grace as an artist and sculptor, he could carve a tombstone of a respectable deceased a day in Kutaisi and forge a citadel for himself from solid stone in the center of Tiflis - the money he has is a ruble in his pocket, the only clothes he has on are trousers. His script about the left-handed artist was to be announced, awarding six thousand rubles so far, he cheated himself and the director. "Of course we're the fit lucky and we're taking on the lousy losers." The eye on his face, his barren wife is waiting for an insignificant grimace to let go of her misfortune in her arms, to make room for someone fertile in that house, who would fill that house with soft cries of children, tasteless laughter and wet pants - life. Eldar gets drunk or hangover gloomily decides not to drink again, the wife thinks so, Eldar is buried in yogic literature, the wife watches out of the corner of her eye to see if her husband has not yet found any words about fertility and infertility in those books. the woman is now looking for the good one among the crowds of girlfriends, girls at the workplace, women in theaters, with whom her husband would be happy and light, and she would look at that woman, husband, and child with bright tears from her distance.
- Eldar, I said at my son's birthday party, maybe you'll break up anyway.
- Of course, he teased, until now we have made so many people happy that we can already make one person sad.
It was our turn for the taxi, and then a tall Viktor Makarov jumped out of the hostel. He came out just in time and raised his hand to ask us to wait just as we opened the car door, but we might not have understood his problem either. His beautiful colossal stature demands a solemn slowness, as Victor struts and bows that proud stature, for now, bows.
- Shall we run a little?
- Drive, let him run a little behind me.
- He is your friend, isn't it inconvenient, the driver doubted.
- We will run after him a lot, drive. He is Siberian.
With one blow of his open palm, his grandfather once killed the village chief in one fell swoop, and now he is a Siberian. The dead man was the head of the village by God's luck, and it can be considered a revolution and not be silent about it - inform with a moderate unity of irony and seriousness, not putting much meaning in the pope's arrogance, but also not allowing the pope to be considered a mere murderer. The revolution is a revolution, but it needs to be moved to the European part of the country, Moscow to be precise. It won't happen in one go, it won't happen in one go, it will take hard work like a chain step to retrace the path that the grandfather walked in one march at a time. There is already money to buy a log cabin near the city, which would be enough for a private apartment in the city, but then what is the state for and for whom is it building and whose ideologues are we?
He must have understood that we stopped the car to run him over, but he didn't stop and didn't wave his hand - you shouldn't reduce the money of the cooperative with a roll of rubles. Looking at the newspapers, Eldar asked:
- Is he running?
- He is running. He started to smile.
He came, bent his enormous height, placed his broad back smilingly in the narrowness of the car, and was still smiling like an old woman who had reached the trolley.
- We noticed late, honest word, - I said.
"Paying in three will be easy," the Eldar said for him.
- Let's go, boss, drive to Kino's house.
The driver waited for more information.
"Cinema house, boss," I said, "Waksberg Cinema."
- You don't know what Kino House is? You don't know Vaksberg? Joe, he doesn't know what a movie house is.
- He doesn't know anything, El.
- He's from Muscovite and doesn't know what a Cinema House is, Joe.
- He is a wrong Muscovite, El, Mike would have been a Muscovite instead.
- They are joking, - explained Makarov. - Varovsky's initiation by Presnya.
- Brandy or whiskey, El?
- Did you take your brandy?
- It's always with me, El, cognac or whiskey?
"Vodka," he said over the newspaper.
The concept of grasshopper does not indicate a biological order, but a way of life, a state. That name was given centuries ago to those swarms which are the herd unity of different species of grasshoppers more or less related to each other and which move from time to time to distant countries. The existence of the first word here gives the impression of exaggeration, but if we consider the weight of even one locust (the weight of a quarter of the world's population) and appetite (a ton of locusts eats up ten tons of greens, twenty thousand tobacco bushes in South America were devoured by a swarm of locusts in just twenty seconds, in 1962 a locust in Morocco destroyed seven thousand tons in five days oranges: it is the annual consumption of a country the size of France), considering this lack of appetite and weight, the correct name for the grasshopper is not the swarm, but only the herd.
In 1915 Twenty-seven-year-old scientist B. P. Uvarov researched in the North Caucasus and gave a brilliant explanation of the problem of locust breeding, which was also confirmed by further studies done in the Solstice. It turned out that the grasshopper lives in two life forms, solitary and gregarious, and these life forms are completely different from each other in appearance, internal structure and ways of reproduction. A solitary grasshopper, if the environment does not have the so-called nahra hosanut, kochi nahra magic, does not tend to get close to its kind, become a member of a group, a part of a group, and in that case it preserves, with small differences in individual shades, all the features of its tribe's color, internal structure and reproduction method. The grasshopper of the initial condition is already on the contrary. they gather in dense groups, constantly rub each other with their beaks, legs and body, and these contacts put them all in a high so-called motility, stimulate the migration instinct. Before your eyes, the solitary grasshopper grows back to its original state - the tribal, local and individual shades of color disappear, the grasshopper darkens, takes on an orange-black color, the back bends near the nape, the wings lengthen, the temperature increases by five to eight degrees due to the dark color, and then the herd is ready to break out. The grasshopper rises to the sky in the opposite direction of the wind and when it is already six hundred to a thousand meters high, it turns its head and gives itself to the wind. Once around noon, said V. Williams, then an entomologist at the Rural Test Fields in Amani, Tanganyika, warned us by telephone that the "Arabian outbreak disaster" was approaching. "Now we'll see what entomologists are for," the horrified manager of the test grounds told Williams. He still had no idea that even if there was a world army of entomologists in Amania, not a single leaf would be saved from that rotten garden in the great desert. Before long the east grew dark. Growing larger and heavier, a monstrous cloud took hold of the sky. The sun darkened. The first grasshoppers hit the leaves of the garden like hailstones, hailed the tin roofs. A cloudy wind swirled over the village, the rustling of wings made people deaf. The first branches were broken by the explosion. The ground was churning, but the east was still black - the end of the herd was not yet in sight. After that, for nine hours, the black locust would rustle across the sky and fall on Amani. The next day, leaving the flowery land a dead desert, the herd left...

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