Friday the 13th

Anatoly Trushkin

Friday the 13th (collection)

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Introduction

I am a person, it seems to me, not superstitious... mostly.

I can, of course, believe that good, expensive dishes lead to happiness, but only if the dishes are not mine.

But I won’t walk through the cemetery at night for any amount of money. I know that in our highly enlightened age, nothing will happen to me in the cemetery: no one will holler, grab my leg, or tickle me to death. But I won’t go... You never know.

Out of curiosity, maybe I'll go. Curiosity is an irresistible thing.

You, reader, also don’t immediately shy away from the title of the book, look into it - maybe something will capture you, tickle you; maybe after reading something you’ll google it, you never know what could happen. Take a look for curiosity's sake.

Stories

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Wife-bride

In the evening I tell my wife:

- Girl, where could I see you?

This is our conditioned signal: how are you today?

She:

– Don’t even dream about it today, today I don’t feel well, I’m very tired – I’ve been without air all day.

And most importantly, he looks somehow hostile. And she probably feels that she is wrong - she gets even more irritated:

What you’re asking, I could have noticed myself, but you’re only thinking about yourself. I have feelings for you, but you have only instincts for me, and even in them you don’t know the measure!

What measure?.. The Ministry of Health did not warn anything.

She also said that she forgot the last time I gave her flowers and the last time I treated her to champagne. Then you know what she said? A wife is a bride all her life.

That's where she skidded! Twelve years married - still a bride. And instinct, by the way, is not a whim, but an order from the cosmos. Order! Die it, but fulfill it.

I see that she is in such a state that it is useless to explain to her about space. I quietly took the car keys and said:

I’ll go for a walk, I’m also short of air.

He got into the car and rushed out into the street. We have them there, helping the cosmos. I approached one and asked:

- How many?

- Four thousand.

- Four?!

- Yes.

– A subscription, perhaps, for a year?

- In an hour. Money in advance.

I think: If the working day is eight hours, even with days off, then it turns out... eight times four and another twenty-two... it turns out... no worse than the ministers, and maybe better. The ministers have settled down quite well. Although they are also shaken every day... be healthy.

I say:

– What does money in advance mean? What if the goods are stale?

She told me:

- Not at the market.

I mean, we don’t let you try.

Of course, I was a little confused and asked:

- Four thousand of what?

She:

– You can do it in euros, you can do it in rubles.

Well, here I am, I say:

- Better in rubles.

And then, when it finally became clear, I yelled:

- Four thousand?! Yes, my wife plows for four thousand for a week without air, without champagne. Where is your conscience?

She said where her conscience is, and then I still see two mugs running towards me. I'm on gas.

As I drive, I think: Wow! Four thousand, what rudeness! For what, exactly? Are they giving me money for nothing?.. Four thousand! You can't get enough of this! Where is the government looking? What is the president doing? Do they know at what prices people live, what grief they are grumbling about?!

I even spat... I hit the windshield - nothing was immediately visible, but it became so clear that prostitution is a shameful phenomenon in our life. Disgrace! Dirt!.. This is dirt! Where is dirt worth four thousand? If twice a week you’re covered in mud, that’s two by four and another four... thirty-two thousand! Are they completely crazy? What about the family then? What will be left for the children? Children grow by leaps and bounds. What are they doing, vipers!.. What if you’re in the mud every day? That’s four thousand for thirty days... Approximately how much?.. You can’t even count it right away.

Then he calmed down a little, drove to the supermarket, took champagne, sweets, two bouquets of flowers - and went home.

I come in and my wife is crying and smiling, saying:

And I saw how you quietly took the keys, and I also thought: Maybe he’s getting flowers?"

I speak:

- You're interesting. Where else could I go?

Everything was put on the table right away, but we didn’t eat or drink, we had no air all day – we went straight to bed.

We lay down, she gave me an elbow in the side, and said:

- Officer, can you buy me a cigarette?

This is our signal.

With pleasure, I say, I have this goodness!.. Although... The Ministry of Health warns: excessive smoking is harmful to your health.

They say on New Year's Eve... Almost a fairy tale

A gangly teenage girl stood in front of a brightly lit display case with expensive toys. It seemed that she did not feel the frost, did not notice her large, measured trembling.

Rich people walked past her, laughing cheerfully, with gifts. She didn't hear them. A little later there was no one to hear, the street was empty - there was a little more than an hour left until the New Year.

Exactly one hour later, there was a squeak of brakes, and a brilliant young scientist, a member of the Academy of Sciences, a consultant to major foreign corporations, the handsome Alexander Orlov, emerged from the stopped Mercedes. He was going to see his fiancée Zhanna, a ballerina of the Bolshoi Theater, with whom her contract had been renewed, and decided, in addition to expensive gifts, to buy her a toy.

-Who are you, girl? What are you doing here alone? – Alexander asked, noticing the awkward creature.

- Am I a girl? – the girl turned around. - Well, you give it to me! I am a prostitute.

Alexander instinctively recoiled, but decency demanded that the conversation continue, and he said:

-You're completely frozen.

- Bad luck! – the girl explained. - Not a single client. Can you imagine? They brought the country.

Alexander understood that he should turn around and leave, but his innate intelligence did not allow him to do this.

– Where are you celebrating the New Year? – he asked secularly.

Where, where... the girl began, but something also kept her from rhyming. Probably also Alexander’s innate intelligence. Nowhere, she finished.

And now it was still possible and necessary to break off the conversation, but it was as if the shadow of Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky stopped in front of Alexander and as if Fyodor Mikhailovich whispered: It is necessary that every person has somewhere to go.

I invite you, Alexander said, unexpectedly for himself, the girl and Fyodor Mikhailovich.

One hundred dollars, said the girl, firmly knowing that now her red price is forty, and in case of possible imminent rigor, even thirty. The words Although free, but warm, flew through her whole body, but she repeated: One hundred.

Yes, yes, Alexander answered automatically.

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* * *

- Zhanna! Zhanna!

- Alex! Finally!

They hugged.

– Please meet me, this is Nadya, she is a prostitute. Imagine, I almost froze to death on the street.

- Prostitute? – Zhanna approached, squinting her eyes, blind from continuous reading of poetry. - Very nice. With inexpressible grace, she extended her wonderful hands to the newcomer and said: Let’s be friends."

Nadya had never been to such rich houses. Every thing she saw, she wanted to take and carry away.

In the fireplace in the living room, where all three were, birch wood crackled merrily. The door opened quietly and Zhanna’s mother Lada Veniaminovna entered.

- Mother! Look who we have! Alex brought a prostitute! She was freezing outside.

What a delight, Lada Veniaminovna smiled knowingly at Nadya. - Make yourself at home.

- Oh, I’m such a mess!

Then be like you’re in a brothel.

- Thank you.

Sasha, Lada Veniaminovna said to her future son-in-law, now you remind me so much of your grandfather. He also liked to bring home prostitutes.

The phrase was somewhat ambiguous, but it suddenly dissipated the remaining tension, and everyone laughed cheerfully.

Soon guests began to gather: major bankers, businessmen, cultural figures. It’s strange, but for some reason Nadya felt absolutely at home among them.

Her attention was attracted by one tall, handsome old man, a professor at the conservatory. He was, as it turned out, terminally ill.

I’ll die tomorrow, the professor told everyone confidentially.

No one could hold back their tears.

- What's wrong with you? - Nadya burst out.

- Lung cancer.

- Oh, spit! One of our pimps was treated by bastards. Lung cancer, lung cancer! They were pulling money. And he had a cold. You need to drink a glass of vodka with pepper - and it will go away.

The old man smiled bitterly, but in front of him on a silver tray there was already a glass of vodka with pepper.

Modest Ippolitovich, everyone said, what if?! What do you have to lose?

With a weakening hand, the professor poured a glass of vodka into the dying body... and he felt better. After the second glass he felt good.

- I have no one! - Modest Ippolitovich, completely brought back to life, shouted after the third glass of vodka. – There was a son, Sergei, he died in Chechnya, defending his homeland... Nadya, let me adopt you!

- Let's.

She said this simply, ordinarily, but everyone suddenly clearly felt that there was a place for miracles in our lives. In the clinking of glasses one could hear: There is, there is, there is a place for miracles.

On the radio they asked me to guess a three-letter word. The correct answer gave a win of 1,000,000 rubles. Nadya rushed to the phone and got through first.

It was fifteen minutes to twelve when the apartment rang impatiently. Nadya rushed to the door and opened it first. Three masked men came in with machine guns.

The guests, with the exception of the already incurably drunk Modest Ippolitovich, habitually turned to face the wall, spread their legs and raised their hands. Nadya realized that now her short-lived, but such cheerful happiness would be stolen from her. She jumped up to the healthiest of the raiders and shouted, We’ve brought the country! tore off his mask.

There was deathly silence. The silence was diluted by the noise of unsteady steps. Modest Ippolitovich was walking towards the handsome bandit.

- Seryozha! - he whispered. - Son!.. Are you alive?

- Father! – said Seryozha, without taking his eyes off Nadya. - I'm alive. I escaped from hazing. Now I rob the rich and give everything to the poor.

- So you came to rob?

- No, I came to give it back.

They hugged each other warmly. Two of Seryozha’s comrades gave each of the guests a diamond, a ruby ​​and a packet of cookies.

The chimes began to chime. Everyone rushed to the table - they had to have time to spend the old year.

With the tenth blow they carried out the old one, with the twelfth they met the new one.

The midnight news reported that the State Duma had adopted the law Love your neighbor as yourself, that new deposits of oil, gold, titanium and platinum had been discovered in the country, that the Spartak football club had been bought by an English billionaire.

In general, on the first night of the New Year, unheard-of miracles happened everywhere in Russia. Thus, the official Krivorukov did not take a bribe from one of his guests. For a long time later he could not explain to himself how this happened. His wife took him to psychiatrists, but they just shrugged him off. Having suffered, never having found an explanation, having spent all his savings on treatment, in complete poverty and loneliness, Krivorukov will die in a year. But all this will happen later.

And now Seryozha and Nadya, holding hands, are walking through snowy Moscow. Those who do not believe in miracles need not read further.

Seryozha and Nadya found themselves near the very display case with expensive gifts from which our story began.

Everything is like in a fairy tale, said Nadya.

You can only be so lucky on New Year’s Eve, said Sergei.

He cupped his hands and shouted loudly:

– You can only be so lucky on New Year’s Eve! People, be happy! Can you hear me?

We hear, a hoarse male baritone came from the night.

An army patrol appeared in front of Seryozha and Nadya.

– Who pulled your tongue? – asked the senior officer. I recognized you, the deserter, by your voice.

A second later, the snow veil swallowed Sergei.

Nadya stood alone in front of the window, she didn’t remember Zhanna’s address, didn’t know her phone number, but for some reason she believed that happiness would not turn away from her now.

And as soon as she thought this, only this joyful thought illuminated all the nooks and crannies of her soul, she heard the squeak of brakes and a Mercedes stopped at the side of the road. Laughing merrily, Nadya ran up.

From behind the slightly open door a cheerful voice asked:

– Free?.. Go down!

It’s gone, Nadya thought cheerfully, the client has gone.

The Mercedes disappeared just as it appeared – unexpectedly. There was no one else in front of the holiday display.

Conscience

On the