Goldfish in the sky – MK

It was getting dark. The lanterns came on.

The evening was amazing. Warm, gentle, plunged into bliss. The geyser was rustling, the tents of fountains were heaving. Confidence grew stronger: it will be possible to profit.

Gradually, screenings took place: seemingly bored and aimlessly flanking around the square, the goldfish were sorted out by brisk gentlemen. Two unpresentable bleaks were left to flutter on the shallows. One of this skinny couple, after a short haggling, was taken away by a miserable client to match her.

The latter, hopelessly nondescript, seemed easy prey.

And then a traditional competitor arose – dark-haired, narrow-eyed (either Kazakh or Kirghiz), the same hunter for cheapness and freebies – and grabbed the slender nymph by the sleeve of a synthetic dress.

– Went!

– What more! she burst out.

“Come on,” he caught her hand again. “You won’t catch anyone anyway.

– Do you have any money? she inquired mockingly.

What is your current price?

She called outrageous.

The narrow-eyed man put his hands on his hips and laughed:

– I pulled it up … It would be better if the skirt … I give it doubly. If you fulfill a whim.

— Go you! she waved it off.

– Then according to the tariff. As always.

Lonely, she went to the monument.

“I’ll wait,” the narrow-eyed man said peacefully. – You’re not going anywhere.

And, moving a few steps away, he sat down on the marble border of the lawn.

It was necessary to seize the moment, to seize the initiative. But it seemed that we could wait for more profitable dumping.

A pickup truck, which was driving in the near lane, pulled up sharply to the sidewalk, jumped out of it – as if intending to throw an empty cardboard box – a guy in a dirty satin robe, glanced around, instantly assessed the situation and, after talking with a thin girl, led her to the car.

I had to keep the narrow-eyed company: sit down on the curb and smoke, blowing smoke to the unattainable star-shaped spinners in the sky.

FUR COAT WANTED

My aunt lamented: “In the city, as on the front line. Step to the right, step to the left – danger guards. Keepers of order are scarier than bandits. Before you go late – if there is a military man or a policeman nearby – it becomes calm. Now on a dark street you will run into a patrol – be dumbfounded, rather lower your eyes and to the side, so as not to attract attention and not run into. And if you meet your eyes – perspiration, paralysis: suddenly, what good, they think they are impudent, they become attached.

There were reasons to strive. Aunt was walking along the embankment. A young man of pleasant appearance, well dressed, came forward. He suddenly snatched the bag from her hands and started to run. The aunt was shocked and went to the police. And instead of helping her, they say: “The fur coat that you are wearing is wanted. Disappeared from a burglarized apartment. We’ll check your alibi.” With difficulty, my aunt got away from the peacekeepers.

I recalled her complaints and warnings when I was walking with my wife (the missus put on a battered fur coat) to a karaoke club for a friend’s 70th birthday. Friends of youth and children of the hero of the occasion from different marriages gathered. Sang about happiness. He thought: “What is happiness in old age? Good mood and health. This is the happiness of old. If there is no health, there will be no good mood.”

The celebration ended well after midnight. We rolled out of the institution into the winter darkness. A taxi was waiting in advance. When they got into the car, a disheveled girl ran up:

– I beg you, grab me, my taxi did not wait, it left, give me a lift, not far …

It flashed (at the instigation of my aunt): a petitioner in collusion with the driver. They’ll take you to who knows where, make you turn out your pockets and take off your fur coat, throw yourself out, well, if they don’t kill you.

They refused her.

The driver was driving rudely. I was talking to someone on speakerphone. Then he announced:

– Your order has been cancelled. I’m going to another address.

Dropped off near the subway. We went down, drove two stops. A mechanical voice ordered to get out of the car. “The train won’t go any further.” Why? Because it’s already half past one. The metro is closed.

They stood on the street. Freezing. But the feeling of satisfaction did not leave: they saw through the conspiracy of the driver and the failed fellow traveler. They survived and were not robbed.

Is this not true happiness?

PUBLIC APPROACH

An inveterate official negotiated with the girls:

– How many?

They laughed, winked:

– Come to us, we’ll deal with the calculations later.

No, you should know.

“For the sake of your charming manners, we’ll drop it.” We are selling.

— And yet?

– Five hundred dollars.

– Wow!

“Okay, two hundred and fifty.

– Why so much?

– For pleasure.

– Expensive.

“So be it, two hundred.

— No, provide an estimate. What are the production costs, what are the costs…

– They bought a wardrobe for our den for cosmetics, for a taxi.

– Write on paper. We will add it up in the office, divide it by the number of days, and see what your real income is. And how does it compare to our…

The girls sat down to creak their feathers.

A TUBE

The cops stopped.

– Did you drink?

– Yesterday.

– Strong?

– Slightly.

“Oh, it doesn’t sound like you. Probably scrap. And it didn’t dissipate. Didn’t fade.

– I took a little. Honestly.

– Let’s take it for examination. Why do you need this?

– Take it.

– We can testify right here in the car. To not get bored.

– Let’s go here.

— We don’t recommend it… It’s somehow humiliating… for you… to blow into the tube.

– But why? I’m ready. If it’s necessary.

– Understand well. Weigh the pros and cons. There is no way back. Let’s make an act.

– If you find it. But hardly. Not afraid.

– We’d better agree on a good deal.

– About what?

– So that it is good for you, and for us.

– I feel good.

– Well, blame yourself.

He blew so that the device broke, which (perhaps just because of a breakdown) did not show anything reprehensible.

TALK TO THE WASHING MACHINE

You load stale linen into the bowels of purgatory. You set the automatic program – conditionally: “Stain Removal” or, say, “Delicate Wash”, “Synthetic Fabrics” or “Sportswear”. And then the shoes. The smart mechanism displays a modest figure on the screen – the number of minutes needed to complete the operation. A maximum of 90, often falls short of 60-70.

While the metal drum is spinning and the task is being gradually completed, thoughts flow: “Spot removal” … Are there spots on the Sun or is it an idle fake? And is it true that another flare on the Sun has occurred, it entails a deterioration in well-being? And another thought: “And how to whiten your (or someone else’s) biography?” And one more thing: “Delicacy is now perceived in a figurative, figurative sense and is more inherent not in people, you can’t expect delicacy from people, but in mechanisms. Say – at your service, please: “Delicate wash”, “Delicate spin” …

In reality, when spinning, the body of the machine shakes in rage, trembles from overexertion and effort. After that, it is relaxed (as always after a storm), plaintively and demandingly squeaks a hungry chick, signaling: the stage is completed, it is necessary to proceed to the next one – “rinsing”. The timer is on. Again time flows. And thoughts flow: “Rinsing” … Oh, and they rinse everywhere, at home and at work, and neighbors, and so-called friends, but when behind the eyes – it’s better than in the eyes … “

A new alarming series of squeaky alerts and another period of putting things in order – the very mentioned spin: 6 minutes. Only. If “delicate”. And 12, if shaking, brutalized. “Oh, and they squeeze me. Just like this mass of battered matter. Rinse and squeeze, rinse and squeeze. And they erase. into powder. Sterley. The exact, therefore, is the name of the powder, which does not seem to be at all like a school eraser: washing. I remember from school time: “Erase random features” … And they erased everything in a row, random and non-random. Nothing left.

But existence is warming. Yet. What-nothing. Not easy. Monotonous. Labeled per second. Alas, there is nothing to choose from. What is given is given. So it’s acceptable. Tolerable. Yes, things wear out. You wear yourself out.

Time flows. Thoughts flow.

The final stage crept up latently: draining. Just 2 minutes.

And the predictable expected ending: leaked. You. Along with the dirty stuff.

The machine is waiting for a new batch of raw materials for processing.