Navalyayev. Non fictional stories

"And he wants you naked, that moss?"

"In what sense?"

"Well, where will they pour it?"

– Where would not flood, it is still nada.

There was a gurgling mooing in the receiver.

– Moramo misliti…

"What?"

"I'm talking nada to think."

"Then speak humanly!"

"Okay, look, do you remember how my Simochka was leaving, at Salerno?"

"Why not?" Is it on Greece?

"No, it's in Italy." The truth is that later she moved to Rome. So that's it. On the transfer or deto there, she met one pair. He is a solid man, himself a dentist, wearing glasses, with noble gray hair. She, too, is nothing – a spectacular blonde, a child is about to turn around medicine. A psychologist or a sho-something so indecent.

– Psychologist? But what is it? Can psychiatrist?

– No, the psychologist is the one who does not heal.

"What does sho do?"

– Well, so, talk.

"But there's no one to talk to them there?"

"Oh, Asya, do I know?"

"Listen… do we have such a thing?"

– No. On the line, he surrendered to us! Neither the hospital write out, nor the direction, on the fluuriagram.

– Where?

"He went to get XRey done!" Where.

– And what?

– – What do you mean What?! So they have their own acquaintances among doctors.

– – So call already that Rome!

–

– – Alie, this is the Eternal City?

– "No, it's Rome." Dial the code of Jerusalem more cautiously.

– "But I call Rome!"

– – Then why are you confusing me?

– "I'm already over eighty, so I can."

– "Ah, it's you, Mira Lvovna?"

– – It's me. But do you tell the ray how our Giuseppe is there?

– – Oh, he does not even speak.

– – Like this?! You said that six months ago he talked Toko?

– – And who are you asking about?

– "About little Giuseppe."

– "Giuseppe is a grandfather, who has long since died!" And the kid is Genaro!

– – Oh, you, Lord! How do you distinguish them there?! And who is your husband?!!

– "Giordano's husband, his brother Giacomo, nephew of Jeramino, and brother-in-law of Giuliano."

– "Oh, Simochka, you have an angelic memory and patience, like that of Herostratus."

– – Or Hippocrates?

– It is necessary to think.

– "Oh, that's Archimedes' wish!"

– – You, Mira Lvovna are windy as a thymus thymus "Lazio" – a metropolitan team, but nihilo, except for the finale Mussolini, for her never hurt. And you, Mira Lvovna, do not be ill, well, that is, be healthy, regardless of your sclerosis.

– – ABOUT! Sclerosis. Well sho you remembered mine! I did what I call, I still need Icelandic moss…

–

– At that time, when boiling, sometimes reaching boiling, telephone conversations, splashing out on the heads of many acquaintances, unfamiliar and completely unfamiliar people with a problem called "Icelandic moss", Comrade Navalyaev, having put on an old mother's sweater and trousers brought by Uncle Senei, or From Surgut, or from Tyumen, he felt the spots of asphalt of the garage cooperative "Barvinok" with the soles of his sandals. The Navalyaevs' box, numbered 23, housed a gate to the gates with garage No. 13, where the old settlers mentioned above occupied cells 13 and 14.

– With a bucket in his hand, where the new brush dangled, Callistrat Ippolitovich, in all its glory and with an immovable smile, appeared before the auto-old men. His short canvas trousers, and the belly sticking out from under the dilapidated sweatshirts, of an incomprehensible color, gave Navalyaev even more absurdity, bringing his appearance to a completely stupid. Listed below, madness, Callistratus Ippolitovich capped a newspaper made with a cocked hat, which he called "Pear", in honor of the last marshal of the empire – Emmanuel Grusha.

– – Hey Kalik!

– The drivers exclaimed, seeing an unsettled figure that had grown up in the opening of the wide-open gate. Old men are not what they would have liked a neighbor, but they had a genuine sympathy for Navalyayev, sometimes picking his Sisyphus – as Callistrat Ippolitovich called his own, no less than himself, an awkward car.

– – Hello comrades.

– Zardev from meekness, Navalyaev shyly said.

– – What did you get?

– Asked Pif, who was sitting in a wheelchair, not taking his eyes from the drawing on the thick sheet of Whatman.

– – Yes, here, you see, my mother punished me, now painting gate.

– – Didn't you painted this gate last year!

– – Yes I did. But my mother is worried that they will rust and ordered another dense layer of paint to be applied.

– "It's not iron anymore, but armor."

– Muttered not drunk Afonya, looking for among the scattered on the concrete floor carrots for 17.

–

– At the same time, Slime's cousin, came to the hospital, at the call of a wounded friend. He threw his white robe over his shoulders and made his way to the seventeenth ward, sitting at the cot of the bandaged Kobelkovsky.

– – Healthy Cum.

– Sliva whispered, as if he were afraid of being heard by a four of the injured, laid in a bed here, along the wall of a narrow chamber.

– – Finally!

– The patient bellowed.

– "Shaw happened, Vovan?!"

– – Yes, there is such a thing…

– In response, Kobelkovsky whispered, cautiously looking around.

– -… Lyuska stayed in the garage.

– "What Lyuska?"

– "That Josephine!" What else?

– – A-ah.

– Stretched Plum.

– "And in which garage?"

– – In my! What else!

– "Why did she stay there?"

– Not allowing himself to let go of the usual explanation, overflowing with excessive obscene expressions, Vovan decided to take the bull by the horns.

– "You… go to my garage and let Lyuska go." She's been there since the night. Do you have a key?

– – And how, then.

– "Shaw, how is it?"

– – There is.

– "Well, then go on." Toko runs!

– Kum Sliva, in bewilderment, rushed to the exit, thinking on the run, what exactly should he do.

–

– Having reached the Saksaganskogo street on the ninth street, Vittorio Toldo, consulted the friendly passers-by about the final point of his journey, then confidently walked to the garage cooperative "Barvinok", which in one of his letters he wrote to an old friend of Kardup. Having found himself at the garage number 13, where passions and work were boiling, he froze like a statue of his great compatriots, looking at the hunched figure of Pyth, applying lines and calculations on the sheet of Whatman. Noticing the lonely silhouette with the corner of his eye, Epiphan Osipovich Cardupa narrowed his eyes, which he did not believe when he recognized his old friend.

– "Vittorio!" Are you?!

– On this occasion, he even tore his ass from the shabby pillow, making several steps towards the dear guest.

– "I'm Epifanio!" I, who else!

– "Oh, you're a stinker!" Rogue you Apenninskaya!

– The friends embraced.

– – How are you here?! With what wind?

– – Yes, here, came with a delegation from the firm "FIAT". Tonight I'm leaving for Moscow, from there to Togliatti.

– – Yes, Togliatti… did you think that the scabby fellow, that the name of your leader and associate – Comrade Palmiro, will be called a beautiful city in the freest country in the world!

– The Italian guest shrugged.

– "Here, comrades, my friend, the Italian communist, comrade-in-arms and younger brother-Vittorio Toldo!" Please love and respect.

– Wiping his hands from black on oiled trousers, Autogen, Afonya, followed by Navalyayev, they warmly welcomed the hands of an unprecedented Italian citizen.

– – Thanks friends. Thank you.

– Smiling, thanked Vittorio.

– – Very touched. Molto bello [2]! Very nice.

– – And it's in our way so normally!

– Slamming the tourist on the shoulder, concluded Afonya.

– – Still would! He's been living with us for a long time. From the Fascists of the damned was hiding.

– Vittorio looked at the benevolent glance of the crowd in the close box.

– – And you have a very beautiful hat.

– He pointed his finger at the pendant "pear" Navalyayev, after which all burst with a loud laugh. To the noise, from nearby garages, drunken motorists were pulled.

– "Brothers, a friend from Italy has arrived!" And this is not a mosquito for you to bite off a trunk!

– Pif did not stop.

– – And he is not a bourgeois?

– Mitka Nahalyavushkin from the 30th garage, who at the moment took at least three hundred grams of "white", asked.

– "You yourself are a bourgeois!" Drunk your face!

– Cardup stepped in. He swung his mount at Mitka. In order to smooth out the misunderstanding, Nakhalyavushkin grabbed the Italian's hand with a sugary smile.

– "It's a very pleasant comrade Italian." And I'm Nakhalyavushkin, you can just Mitrofan.

– After Mitka, it was the turn of the brothers Granitolevich – Valentine and Dermantin, from the 2nd box, looking very much alike. Then came the half-drunk Kolya-Karburotor, clutching Vittorio's neck.

– "Let me kiss you brother!"

– – ABOUT! This is not necessary.

– – Are you squeamish?!

– – Not at all.

– With an easy accent the Italian said.

– "Tada, what's your name?"

– "Vittorio."

– – Yeah, so in our opinion Vityok. And I'm Kolyan. We will know each other.

– – Yes, thanks, good, familiar.

– – Osipovich…

– Kolyan addressed all those present.

– "… this is the case."

– – Well, what's more?

– – The thing is, my mother has a birthday party.

– – Which fuck?

– Afonya asked.

– – Well, so this…

– He lost his way in Kolyan's memoirs, nodding his head towards "Bessarabka". The thing is,

– That the surname of the godfather was so hard to pronounce that when Kolyan pronounced it, helped himself with gestures, then one day he dislocated his hand. Therefore, we do not venture to present this horror to the respected reader, confining ourselves to the initials of the kuma – Evpat Tazobedrovich. Yes-yes, you did not misinterpret, it was Tazobedrovich, since Eupatia's grandfather was an orthopedist, and gave his father, we say mildly, a rather strange name, spoiling the boy's life.

– – Kolya, do not quote with Hegel's gestures, you will become an invalid.

– Caesar warned Corbiurator of the injuries of the clever Pyth.

– – Yes you are, stunned! This name is not something to wear, it's even in your mind to say scary!

– Grumbled amazed Afonya.

– – Especially since I already know this Evpah – Yes, here, came with a delegation from the firm "FIAT". Tonight I'm leaving for Moscow, from there to Togliatti.

– – Yes, Togliatti… did you think that the scabby fellow, that the name of your leader and associate – Comrade Palmiro, will be called a beautiful city in the freest country in the world!

– The Italian guest shrugged.

– "Here, comrades, my friend, the Italian communist, comrade-in-arms and younger brother-Vittorio Toldo!" Please love and respect.

– Wiping his hands from black on oiled trousers, Autogen, Afonya, followed by Navalyayev, they warmly welcomed the hands of an unprecedented Italian citizen.

– – Thanks friends. Thank you.

– Smiling, thanked Vittorio.

– – Very touched. Molto bello! Very nice.

– – And it's in our way so normally!

– Slamming the tourist on the shoulder, concluded Afonya.

– – Still would! He's been living with us for a long time. From the Fascists of the damned was hiding.

– Vittorio looked at the benevolent glance of the crowd in the close box.

– – And you have a very beautiful hat.

– He pointed his finger at the pendant "pear" Navalyayev, after which all burst with a loud laugh. To the noise, from nearby garages, drunken motorists were pulled.

– "Brothers, a friend from Italy has arrived!" And this is not a mosquito for you to bite off a trunk!

– Pif did not stop.

– – And he is not a bourgeois?

– Mitka Nahalyavushkin from the 30th garage, who at the moment took at least three hundred grams of "white", asked.

– "You yourself are a bourgeois!" Drunk your face!

– Cardup stepped in. He swung his mount at Mitka. In order to smooth out the misunderstanding, Nakhalyavushkin grabbed the Italian's hand with a sugary smile.

– "It's a very pleasant comrade Italian." And I'm Nakhalyavushkin, you can just Mitrofan.

–

– After Mitka, it was the turn of the brothers Granitolevich – Valentine and Dermantin, from the 2nd box, looking very much alike. Then came the half-drunk Kolya-Karburotor, clutching Vittorio's neck.

– "Let me kiss you brother!"

– – ABOUT! This is not necessary.

– – Are you squeamish?!

– – Not at all.

– With an easy accent the Italian said.

– "Tada, what's your name?"

– "Vittorio."

– – Yeah, so in our opinion Vityok. And I'm Kolyan. We will know each other.

– – Yes, thanks, good, familiar.

– – Osipovich…

– Kolyan addressed all those present.

– "… this is the case."

– – Well, what's more?

– – The thing is, my mother has a birthday party.

– – Which fuck?

– Afonya asked.

– – Well, so this…

– He lost his way in Kolyan's memoirs, nodding his head towards "Bessarabka". The fact is, Ram. It's from the new, from the 46th garage. I changed the ring for him.

– – Yeah.

– Kolyan, nodding, nodded.

– – There is a clearing cover.

– Rubbing his hands, Nahalyavushkin howled with enthusiasm.

– – No, thanks, of course, but we will not go. Celebrate yourself.

– "You are Osipovich!" We Toko two, and grub and swallowed the sea. Salo there, conservation is different. Do not offend.

– – Yes, there. Let's go really.

– Afonja rushed through. Piff looked at Vittorio. He shrugged his shoulders.

– – Okay. Only you here that. You all this snack, well, and the rest, here you drag. Here we will note.

– Without wrangling, Kolya the Carburettor, the brothers Granitolevich and Nakhalyavushkin, soon disappeared between the garages.

–

– The noise of the voices did not subsided, in the intergrain space, when the Slime's cousin appeared at the gates of box No. 7. Looking around, he put the key in the keyhole, and, turning it, opened the small door, carved into the metal gate. Hearing the fuss from the outside, at the gate, inside Josephine, sobered up, hungry, causing a furious, clicked the plastic switch, turning off the light. In her hands she was squeezing a cast iron baking tray, long prepared for the meeting of the faithful Vovan, ideally suited for weight and shape for meeting with traitors. Lyuska froze in total darkness, like a hunter for vampires. Opening the door, Slim's cousin barely stepped into the darkness, when the shape for the nuts was found by his bald head. From an exact and strong blow, like a professional baseball player, inflicted by temperamental Josephine, he flew out of the garage, which prompted the slamming of the iron door. From indignation Lyuska rushed to the gate, trying with all her might to open them, or to break through with a terrible weapon. But the cousin Sliva no longer heard this, as he lost his senses and rested in the bushes under a concrete fence.

– Lyuska, panting, looked at the garage, ruined by her own efforts, and the car, without a single glass, with ripped and ripped seats and screwdrivers that had been pierced with a screwdriver.

– – Bastard!

– In anger she hissed, exhausted on a chair.

–

– At the same time, behind the half-brick wall, in garage No. 13, due to the noise of an electric drill, no one heard the noise and yells of Josephine, so all present were engaged in a casual conversation, listening to the short speech of the sullen Afony.

– Nvaliaeva, each time amazed how cleverly Athanasius, describing or comparing, whatever, used the same organ of the human body, which is the basis of the syntax and built into the crown of the non-normative word-formation, using it in One sentence as a noun, an adjective and even a verb. Afonya, in the same way explaining the structure of the fuel system of the "Humpbacked Zaporozhets", showed himself a fuse, trying to debunk the error of the Italian guest that our "Zaporozhets" is "their, fucked Fiat-600", but something hitherto unprecedented and inimitable. Having exhausted his little vocabulary, Afonya finally calmed down, dragging on his cigarette "Belomor", like a machine-gunner, resigned to the fact that the ammunition was over.

– "All right, Afonya, cool down." Fiat, not Fiat, but the car is good.

– Having calmed down the twin, Pif turned to the guest.

– "Vittorio, do you better tell me where and what are you working on now?"

– "How can you tell in a nutshell?"

– – Well, in three of us in the country it is dangerous to express. So say four.

– – Okay.

– The Italian grinned.

– – Except that I consult "FIAT", I work at the company "Bugatti", founded by Ettore Bugatti, whom I knew personally. Heard about this?

– – Shot I do not remember.

– "Now we are constructing a car of the future, which we call Bugatti Veyron. This of course is not a matter of tomorrow, but we are working…

– Pif laughed silently, slyly looking at Vittorio.

– – You capitalists love to let the dust in your eyes. The car of the future! Here we have, at the Gorky Automobile Plant have released a new "Volga", "Gas-24"! This is not a hamster for you to pull the hick! That's where the car of the future! Four cylinders; Wheel brake with automatic adjustment; A completely new front suspension with a forged beam; Curved side windows; 95 horsepower!

– The old man, raising his eyebrows, extended his index finger to the ceiling.

– – You understand what the ficus-picus! And you're some kind of "Veron" tychesh, to me in the nose. Overthrow your anti-people government, the damned capitalist exploiters first, then maybe, too, people's machines will begin to rivet.

– – Maybe. That's just why, for some reason, you bought our old "FIAT" from us and started it in production, and we do not have your PHAs, KAZs and other TAs, or whatever they call it.

– Feeling that both flared, friends, after a pause, returned to a calm and measured conversation.

– "All right, Vitya, we forgot." Sho us to share? Come on, tell me about your Varon.

– – What can I say, it's something incredible! A unique gearbox is proposed, which will carry out switching without a drop in power, in just 150 ms! Imagine, this is faster than blinking an eye! All this thanks to the dual-clutch transmission. It is assumed that the speed that our Veyron will develop is more than 300 km / h! The power of the motor, the car of the future – 3000 hp!

– -Fish, an infection! So the tank, "Thirty", only 500!

– The stupid Afonya exclaimed.

– – Come on, lie!

– Pif yelled, while the others, opening their mouths, glared at the Italian as if he were insane.

– Vittorio smiled proudly.

– – Well, think for yourself, old devil, well, why should I lie to you?!

– Epifan looked with disbelief at the dark face of the Italian, hoping to see at least a hint of a dirty trick. But the accursed guest did not show a shade of fiction.

– – Utopia…

– The old man barked.

– "I do not understand, you either were foolish… or… sho, right?"

– At last he squeezed out of himself. The Italian nodded in agreement.

– "It's true." That's just the problem with the cooling system. After all, the engine generates so much heat that it would be enough to heat a hundred houses in the winter.

– – Ohrenet…

– Aphonie groaned, clasping his head in his hands.

– – Where to our "Passeur"!

– The Italian held out in surprise.

– "Pa-ce-op?" What is a "Paceor"?

– – You do not, do not pull Stalin's whiskers…

– Strictly stated Peaf.

– "Our car will be so called." Pa – memory, Se – Sergo, Or – Ordzhonikidze. And together – "Paseor".

– Vittorio, for some reason, was sad. But Pif rose.

– – But I have drawings of a unique cooling system. We were working in the "mail box" in the war, for a new tank. Only you, here…

– Twisting a known combination of five fingers, Piff sent the wok, like a pistol, to Vittorio.

– "… I will not show it!"

– The Italian only shrugged his shoulders and, not wanting to argue with the furious old man, turned to Navalyaev.

– "You have a beautiful hat, signor." The truth is beautiful.

– The shy Navalyayev lowered his gaze. Suddenly, at the same moment, before the car lovers and others in the garage, there was a kind of nonsense.

– "What about Peugeot?" Peugeot-oh-oh! Peugeot and sho? Sho Peugeot? Peugeot no sho, Peugeot and Peugeot.

– Vittorio listened in perplexity.

– – Yes, no…

– Aphonie grinned.

– "… this is our fool, Valerik." He's really a jerk, but not violent, quite harmless, so do not be afraid.

– Valera Shmatovalenko, who was talking about, was born and raised in Zaporozhye. Like every Soviet man, he graduated from high school, served in the army, and returned to his hometown, got a job, a car mechanic for pride, beloved Zaporozhye Automobile Plant. In addition, Valera was a patriot of domestic engineering, after serving three years in the army for the car fleet of the missile division, which moved formidable missiles on 150 ZiSs. Labor feat at ZAZ, only strengthened Valera's confidence in the advanced technologies of Soviet engineering, which prompted him, to hoarseness, to argue with everyone and everyone about the advantages of Zaporozhets and Muscovites over all kinds of Mercedes and Toyota. But, one day, an unforeseen happened. At the Zaporozhye Automobile Plant, a French delegation arrived. French colleagues, came not on foot, but rolled on a brand new Peugeot 504 Injection. Valera went around for a long time in circles with an unprecedented car. After that I got bold, and at the time when the French delegation was received by the director in his office, he ventured to approach the driver. The chauffeur spoke a little Russian, which only made communication difficult, as Valera did not believe a single word of it, that is all that the Frenchman told about his car. Having found out the technical characteristics and parameters of the wondrous Peugeot, and also heard about the miracle, under the name of the injector, Valerik fell into a stupor. But when the bourgeois, at the insistence of Shmatovalenko, opened the hood, Valeriy happened irreparable.

– He stopped noticing and understanding everything that was happening around him. His mind was dizzy, and all he could say was a nonsense, sounding like this – "Peugeot, what about sho?" Shaw, Peugeot? A sho, Peugeot? Peugeot and sho?… ". Such nonsense he carried all day, and sometimes even at night. What caused Valery the genuine interest of psychiatrists.

– But the time was passing, and Valery kept repeating and repeating the same thing, with which he moved to Kiev, to Aunt Fana, who showed him to everyone who had at least something in psychiatry. And only after long executions in clinics and hospitals,After the doctors, Aunt Fanya surrendered, leaving Valera alone, and listening to the uninterrupted – "Peugeot, and sho? Shaw, Peugeot? A sho, Peugeot? Peugeot and sho?… ". It was in this state, Comrade Shmatovalenko, that he found a guest from sunny Italy.

– Appearing in the opening of the gate, Valerik told everyone.

– "Sho Peugeot?" And sho, Peugeot? Peugeot and sho?

– – All right, stop bazaar…

– Clapping his hands on his knees, authored Pif authoritatively.

– – Afonya, let's take Valerik, and in the fourteenth garage. Here is the battery put on the charge. "Charged" there, in the corner.

– Picking up a massive diesel battery, Afonya and the executive Valerik, who did not stop broadcasting about Peugeot, disappeared in the next box No. 14. At the same moment, people could hear the exclamations of people who had a premonition of a serious drunkard.

– "Hey, Afonya, you've been soaped up, let's go back, the vodka's getting cold!"

– In the garage, where the old people were waiting along with the Italian guest and Navalyaev, the drunken company brought supplies, drinks and a birthday boy. Ahead, fast and under the weight of a twenty-liter canister with a moonshine step, an important Nakhalyavushkin walked. Behind him, grasping the hands of Evpat-Ramk, who was not fully conscious, the Granitolevichy brothers, Valentin and Dermantin, dragged the limp body of the hero of the celebration. The procession of Kolya-Carburetor was closing, supporting a large plywood suitcase under the bottom, where, for some reason, a snack was stored: a huge piece of fat; Fried pork chops; Barbarously chopped into pieces of stick "Amateur" sausage; Green ray; Fresh and pickled cucumbers and tomatoes; All sorts of fragrant greens, as well as a loaf of other crunchy "Ukrainian" bread.