DIALOGUES
- Pitbull, that's his nickname. I can already imagine what kind of person he is... - No, he's a normal guy, believe me. I'll tell you. - Please, - he rolled up his snow-white shirt sleeve to his elbow and seriously prepared to listen. - Okay... I will, - although I hadn't even had time to move away from his morning manners when he started pouring in new ones. What kind of guy? But, apparently, having gone crazy, I resolutely decided to tell him everything. Everything is just stupid. Yes, because I couldn't hold all this shit in any longer. - Well, you'll have to listen for a long time, maybe you'll have something stronger to drink? - Oh no, thank you. I don't drink alcohol. Won't that offend you? - No, no, - I narrowed my eyes and, without going into unnecessary questions about the absence of alcohol in this weirdo's life, I went into a story about the not-so-distant past. - Pitbull, my partner, was one of those guys who they say "trades like a god", and this was his undoubted plus, which covered everything that was in him. And there was only real shit and uncontrollable anger in him. And God forbid, it was touched by him. It happened that he could beat a person with a half-turn because ... and he could and for nothing, just like that. That's what an animal is. But I especially valued this guy. This bull terrier was amenable to my training. Moreover, he was a little less interested in grandmothers than I was. And I immediately understood that scratching behind the ear - that's what this guy really needed, and I gave it to him. Things were going well, life went on, and I didn’t worry about anything…
Nobody goes crazy. They just scare us. In childhood, they scare us with monsters, and in adulthood, they scare us with mental disorders. But I don't buy into all this bullshit for suckers.
- Damn, what the hell? Bitch! Who's meowing? - barely opening my eyes, I saw a small kitten making its way through the piled blankets. Everyone was asleep, who was where. The smell of something fried came from the kitchen. Clutching the damned kitten in my hand, I burst in. - Damn, Bradpit, what the hell?! Where do you always get them from? I'll throw him out the window right now if he squeaks even once more! You're on your own again! Stop dragging the beast into the house! - Hey, Young Man, calm down. Why are you fussing in the morning? You have no heart. - Bradpit took the kitten from my hands and held it close to him. - Here you are - full, fucked, living with all the conditions. You're getting fat for free. And this money, maybe someone's mother earns it hard and sends it out of Poland to some ghoul, and you... - You'll catch it now, you know. -... someone's mother works twelve hours a day, six days a week, maybe seven. And they? Spanks! - holding the kitten in one hand, he stirred the fried beets in a frying pan with a wooden spatula. - Vietnamese spanks. Spanks, - he was on the verge of tears, - you don't see the world, you have no pity, Krasunchik. But it's okay, soon your life will also come to an epiphany. Allah sees everything! - poking me several times with a wooden spatula and, without letting go of the kitten from my hand, he poured water into the kettle and turned it on. - Petey, this is too much. Did you sniff again, and then smoke? - I poured instant coffee into a cup. - You drag them here in a fit. They're screaming, pissing, shitting here, - I put my hand on the kettle and waited for it to boil. - If you want to help, I feel sorry for you - go to the shelter. Otherwise, you'll only be beaten to death for good deeds. And as soon as you let go, all these petty crooks return to the trash can again. You understand, but Allah sees everything, - pouring boiling water into a cup, I continued: - It doesn't match, or, as psychologists say - double standards, Pitty. He pouted, stuffed the kitten into the pocket of his apron and began to peel carrots. My words clearly caused him pain from a slight insight. But not the fact, because he first sniffed again, and then got high. So I decided to change the subject. - Why did you get up so early? - I haven't gone to bed yet, - he muttered quietly and corrected the kitten so that it wouldn't fall out. Of course, I knew he wasn't going to bed. How could he sleep in such a state? - I wanted borscht so I decided to cook it. It'll be something normal, not this dry stuff. - Yes, borscht is a topic, - I said with a pleasant foreboding. - What, cat mother, hare shamanism, let's go smoke on the balcony. - Fucking mother, I'm a cat father! - Bradpit growled and lit up a cigarette in the apartment, although Teddy forbade him to do so.
- Do you think there's real love between them? - I asked for some reason, because I couldn't remember what the literature teacher at school had said about it. Maybe she didn't say anything. Hmm. - Love? No. Just passion and rebellion, - her hand ruffled my hair. I can already imagine what kind of crazy thing I'll be going home with, - they're just teenagers who rebelled against their parents, because the whole focus was on the conflict between families. You know, I think it's hard to pass on hatred for someone specific through generations. - Huh? - Well, it's impossible to pass on hatred, you know? - What's that? - That. Young man, don't be stupid, - she abruptly crossed her legs, lifting me up, which made me dizzy. - The world works like this. Economics, politics, religion... it's all bullshit. We don't choose who to love. Look what's happening. Muslims marry our girls. I have a relative from Russia who married a German. - So what? It turned out well, or what? - No. Well, it turned out well, but that's not what I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, handsome. - she didn't think for long, caught the thread of her thought and continued, - So. She married a German, and that German's mother is Jewish. That's what you have. Tell Katya's grandmother, who survived World War II, when she was young, that her granddaughter would be married to a German whose mother is Jewish. But she would have shot her daughter on the spot so that she wouldn't give birth to Katya, - and burst into laughter. - Ours? - I was a little scared by her laughter, - What are the Jews here for? - something carried her away in the wrong direction. - And then what! Why did they all die in the war then? All in vain, you fool?! - she glared at me, - Young man, people die in war. And for them to die voluntarily, they need an idea, a conflict and an ultimate goal. The ultimate goal then was not that Muscovites would marry German Jews in the future. Even the Germans and Jews themselves did not want this. As I say, it is impossible to pass on hatred through generations. It is unrealistic. And believe me, Shakespeare knew about it. He knew and he made up a whole story, - she began to shake the book in her hand so much that it hit me painfully in the forehead with a sharp corner. Without even noticing it, she nervously began to look for something on the pages. - An interesting thought and, probably, difficult for me. Let's make it simpler: do you want to love or not? And let's leave the hatred for later, - I demonstratively rubbed my forehead, but where is there - she is more flattering, even if I were shot here and now by Jewish Germans from Moscow. - Love, love... I already have enough of it inside me, and I will always find sex for myself. What's the problem, Krasunchik, what's wrong with you, lonely? - she finally put down the book and leaned over to make sure everything was okay. - You know I can't do that. I sleep with everyone for thanks "without feelings", - she sighed heavily. - Well, the last one didn't even offer me coffee. That's what they did in the back seat. Lunch! - So what's the problem? I got out of the car, went and bought myself a coffee. "Without feelings". Why are feminists trying so hard, - and it immediately flew into my head, already consciously. So the same hand punishes and caresses you. - Did you enjoy the sex? Did you get high? - Oh, no. I was thinking about the coffee and how miserable I was at that moment. - Or maybe the sex was normal. - I don't know. In the car? - In the car.
I like adult sarcastic humor, but I also have dialogues from fairy tales, so we'll kiss later.
- Hey, Handsome, get out of bed. Don't be stupid, - and pulled me by the leg out of bed. Look how pumped up I am in my America. - How much can you do? Get dressed, let's go. Come on, come on. - Leave me with my grief. You see, I'm not a tenant, - I rolled over on my back and folded my arms like a dead man. - Don't fuck me, - she lightly (very hard) kicked me in the side. - Fuck lying down. You won't solve your problems like that. - Honestly, I can't. Damn problems. Problems are for assholes, and work is for poor people, - she continued to push me. - Tanya, stop it. Ah! Tanya! - What? - she continued to push. - Damn it! Tanya! – I rolled onto my stomach and started crawling to a safer place – an old sewing machine with a TV on it, which I turned on just to watch “Dom2”. She grabbed my leg and started pulling me to the center of the room, – Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa! – I started screaming like a child. - Young man, I’m telling you: you’re always exaggerating, – she let go of me and changed her tone to indifferent. She always did that when she wanted to get her way. - How long will it take you to be ready? - I’m telling you: I’M NOT GOING. - What? - What? - What? - What? - Fuck over my shoulder. - What? - Your mother! - Don’t touch my mother. - That’s my mother. I want to and I will. - Seriously, get dressed. Let’s go have a beer somewhere. I was so drunk. - So bad. Very bad. I don't know what to do next. Everything is somehow wrong. It was so good... and then everything went to hell. Maybe we'll stay home? Order sushi... you like it. - No, come on, shake yourself up, you lazy ass. And here's the clerk, how stupid. How do you live here? You can go crazy. Shit, and these are our relatives. - It smells good here, - I grumbled. - I'm not going anywhere. I feel bad. - Yes, I see. But you can survive this too. Everything will pass. You used your time to grieve. Now you need to get back to life, otherwise you're already dragging yourself, - she sat down next to me and slapped her knee. - Maybe it's all for the better. Because I didn't like it all. It's all stupid somehow, and you went somewhere wrong. You're always dragging yourself with stupid people. Where do you find such people? In short, this is all disgusting. Leave it. Do you hear? We need to discuss everything properly. Get ready. - Yeah. - What about the university? Do you still go there? - Hey, mom! I go like that and I pass everything on time, - I said. - You, as always, with your control. - Well done! So go. - So I go. - I'm just asking. You can't ask anything anymore. - You can. And I'm Young. - You're a little idiot, not Young, - she pulled me to her and kissed me very painfully on the top of my head. But what is she doing in those gyms in her America, unloading trucks or something? - You haven't got dressed yet? Young, damn it!
- What could I do? I won't say: "Don't see me off." Although I did. Honestly. Handsome, don't fly like that, I can't keep up," she held my arm so tightly that a bruise in the form of her fingernails remained. Exactly three blue-burgundy stripes on my little bitch. - I could have taken gasoline, poured it over the house, lit a cigarette, laughed out loud and burned everyone to death. - What are you talking about? I don't smoke.
- Well, what are we standing for? Have you changed your mind? – she asked briskly, as always. - No, I haven’t changed my mind, – I narrowed my eyes. – And why do you look so beautiful? Just don’t tell me that you dressed up like that on purpose for this husk, I’ll be speechless. - I just knew that you would come. There’s a connection between us from past lives, – and she smiled seductively. Oh, and flirting too. I can’t be simple. But I felt a little embarrassed. - And he is Yegor. - That’s what I said – “husk”, and you are very beautiful, – I looked at her and took her hand. - Thank you, – she smiled again and carefully took her hand away. And I heard the fragments of my fragile heart splashing into the puddle and sinking, leaving behind colored gasoline stains. You know, such beautiful stains… of non-standard shades. - This is not a compliment, but a fact, – in a few more seconds, the dress will get wet and will no longer be able to hide anything. Oh mighty gods of rain, don’t stop! – and why have you never dressed like that with me? - I don’t know, I didn’t feel like it somehow. – she fixed her wet hair with her hand and looked at me inquiringly. - “I didn’t feel like it,” I repeated quietly and was so upset that I simply couldn’t speak further.
- But tell her straight, that's all! Well, as Molody directly says, I can't stand you. And where's the cherry pie? - Look in the packages. And how do you say it?: "I love you", sholi? - Are you an idiot? - Tovsty looked up at me and stopped shuffling through the packages. - Molody, there's no pie. - Well, what then? - I was riding around the warehouse on a hydraulic cart, like a scooter, - Look better. There is, I took it. "I've been in love with you... for a long time." Something's wrong. Molody?! - Well, like, just start with the fact that she's beautiful and sexy there, and that's all. Well, no! Molody, you'd better forget to buy a head instead of pies, - he was almost roaring, rummaging through the packages, and the crimson light gave his face an even more tragic look. - How could you not take them? - I've been telling her for the last three weeks that she's sexy. She's already asked if I'm short of sex sometimes. It's definitely not a bug, - I jumped off the cart and went to my backpack. - Fatty, think again. Am I feeding you for nothing? - It's obvious how you feed me, - he pouted and threw a sledgehammer made of napkins at me. What a child. - Come up with something, because I won't get off my back like that. Oh, here they are, in the backpack. And now he stinks of them, damn it. I say look carefully. - I threw the package to Fatty. He was delighted, I sighed with relief, because he wouldn't have calmed down with those cherry pies.