Although Mieczyslaw planned to open another club and call it "Katorga and zone". The building was already bought for this purpose and a suitable designer is being selected. And I'm approached by Miecislav to draw something like this... in the spirit of "Burlaks" or "Katorzhnikov".
Maybe I will. But if the convicts are similar to the local administration, it's not my fault. I don't do it any other way.
Leonid had the honor of driving me home, walking me to my apartment and even trying to kiss the pen goodbye. He got (well, I didn't get it, but I tried) a bag on the head and pulled away. And I spanked into the kitchen and turned on the kettle first thing.
With a large cup of tea and a dish of all kinds of delicious things (drying, crackers, nuts, cookies) I sat down in my chair. And I downloaded the first CD. It had all the information on the bears. I opened the folder and counted the files. Mm-hmm. It's 18 in total. It's not like it's morning, it's evening again. The second disk was on Dosya Shiny and Lavrika Star-Progulsky. Which one do you want to read about? In the time that is left? Sleep, too...
About the bear? A lot. About the Lavric? It didn't drag on.
Well. Dosa place.
* * *
The difficult creative path of Dosi Shiny began in a small town with a proud communist name Stalinstal. As can be easily guessed, the town's population consisted of three categories. The first was the miners who mined the ore. The second was workers in the factories who processed it. The third - the most numerous - those who lived with their work. Doctors. Teachers. Sellers. I have to stress, the missing thing is to fit in.
Donya, aka Dasha Swinkina, was born in the family of a miner and a teacher. She studied for three. But she loved hangouts. And there were very few in her hometown. Only discos on Saturdays. They were attended by heavily dressed girls and half-drunk "working youth" in boots. With these boots stepped on the feet of dance partners, as a gift to the lady bought a bottle of beer and cheap chocolate, and the elegant sentence was in two words: "Let's go... this, eh? " and a gentleman's slap on the back.
The dosu wasn't very good at it. And at seventeen, after graduating from school, an ambitious provincial girl rushed to conquer Moscow.
Of course, only the MHAT. And there was no other Dosu institute. In extreme case the school named after Shchepkin. The fact that the Moscow Art Theatre actually trains artists of the theatre was not important. The main thing is a prestigious place so that it was possible to make the necessary connections there. Dasha's logic was iron.
Alas, the MHAT was inhabited by extremely brutal people.
Looking at the certificate with a royal set of threes and poorly looking fours (two pieces - singing and physical education), the lady in the admissions committee friendly advised the girl not to waste her time. It's not going to work anyway.
Good advice Dosya didn't listen.
The commission, five minutes listening to the monologue "Tatiana's letter to Onegin", looked like this:
"I... it's... I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you...
It's... now... it's... I know, in your share... I'm a ghost...
But you!!!! To my merciless passion... it's... at least a drop of it...
YOU WILL NOT LEAVE ME!!! ».
All this was pronounced without even spitting gum, with a unique local accent, intonations of the blackmailer's mother and gesticulation of some Marie-Anhelita from the Mexican series.
Okay, well, you could have had one of these. Just pay. If a man has enough money - and he wants to see an actress his daughter, his wife or even his beloved Guinean cobra - the road is always open. Only pay. But of the money Dosi had about two thousand rubles. And that was it.
So, not finding her name on the admissions lists, the provincial woman woke up and rushed to deliver the deanery.
This enterprise has not been successful. The mechanism of getting rid of too scandalous and annoying boors has long been worked out. And Dosya, then Dasha found a sleepover in the monkey.
That's where the climb to the Olympus of the future star began.
In the monkey, Dasha met Lola. That is, Larissa Livinskaya, a prostitute with extensive experience. Overnight, the girls talked - and by morning followed by "an offer that can not be refused".
Dasha didn't say no. She had two ways. Or to go somewhere, although in the fifth plaster and paste and learn, but the knowledge did not want to stay in a cute perhydro head. Or return home in disgrace and marry a neighbor Vitka, who worked as a driver for the director of the plant and was considered in Stalinistal almost elite.
Either...
And pretty Dashenka, having seen "Beautiful" on TV and taking the pseudonym "Diana", began to wait for her prince by the road. She would have agreed to the oligarch, but the oligarchs (incomprehensible people!!!!) did not pay attention to the pretty girl. And they didn't catch the hook. But gonorrhea and genital herpes were easy to catch.
But it's not fair to say that Diana didn't study. In a year, her Stalinistalevsky accent disappeared from her speech. She was trained to wipe her nose with her sleeve and water the spirits so that the birds flying by fell to the ground. But she learned to smoke like a locomotive depot, to drink without being drunk and to swear virtuoso. And then fate smiled at her for the first time. Diana's pimp was one of the directors of the porn movies. And he chose to shoot some girls. Including Diana.
The woman (calling her a girl would be too cynical) agreed with the delight. The complete list of her masterpieces numbered more than fifty films and included such pearls as "Red Riding Hood" - by the number of clothes on the main character, "Masha and Three Bears" - the director came up with the idea to dress the characters in bear skins, "Girl with a Goat" - the American Society for the Protection of Animals, fortunately, never saw this film and much, much more.
Diana has attracted the director's attention with several valuable qualities. She was very photogenic. She never drank two days before shooting if she had been warned in advance. And she never showed up drunk on the set. She didn't use drugs, but phrases like that: "I won't", "I can't" and "I don't want to" just wasn't in her dictionary. They were replaced by the universal phrase: "How many"?
Simultaneously with the shooting, Diana persistently went to auditioning and watching. And one day, she got lucky. She was invited to one of the many talk shows. Just as a viewer. But the trouble started!
From the viewer the girl gradually moved to the role of a fake actor. And then, at a fashion party Diana met with her future producer. Got acquainted is not accidental anymore. And tried to make the best impression on him.
Given her extensive experience, she did it perfectly. The producer was so shocked that some people got out of bed on bending legs and decided to spin a new star.
Diane's name was no good. Somebody might have remembered the porn CDs. Not that it compromised the new singer too much, but scandals have to be in the right place at the right time. When it's the producer's decision, not some magazine. That's why Dosya was born. Realizing that the main dignity of his ward is not a beautiful voice at all, the producer decided to decorate the rest to the maximum - and on the singing Olympus shone another star.
A small plastic surgery allowed a cute girl to slightly change the cut of her eyes, find inflated lips and size six breasts, which did not need bras, because the plastic does not sag.
Advertising, a few texts and maximum brilliance. And - done.
With all this, Dosi had an amazing quality. She was religious to the extreme. In the spirit of Tartuffe.
[1]
. Sin and repent, my child. If you do not sin, there will be nothing to repent of, and God does not love that. So every morning when she could, she went to church. Sometimes right from work. She stood up for the service. She confessed. She'd put candles on it. And she even wanted to build a church with her own money. The producer persuaded her to limit herself to a house church, but the whole archbishop was invited to consecrate it. Paid so much that a year would be enough to feed all the church's old ladies -
those who ask for alms from the church. But should true believers think about such trifles?
No, Dosya didn't serve the poor. She just poured money into the church piggy banks. And she bought whole iconostasis and holy bookcases.
Well, let's not judge a girl in absentia. Maybe that's her hobby. Someone breeds hamsters, someone collects stamps... Religion is no worse. You see, a girl with a hard-working fate would be quite sane.
Not her, so her producer.
A woman like that was on her way to our town.
There was a short line at the bottom of the file.
"Dangerous. Passionate about marriage! »
Lenka (shaggy creep) has also attached five clips to his file. I spun one...
Porn, that's what it is. And the names are the same. "Bunny bunnies." "Snow White and Seven Dwarf Miners." "Wolf and Seven Goats"...
Mm-hmm. The porn producer had a clear penchant for fairy tales.
And what's this?
Come on, Lenka!!! I'll rip my tail off!!! I'll cut off my ears!!! I'll put it on my collar!!!
There was a note attached to the disc: "I advise you to watch with a vampire. It's a very informative sight."
But I knew for sure that if I decided to watch it with Mieczysław... Okay, don't talk about scary. I wonder if there wasn't anyone more interesting than this ex-prostitute to sing at the opening?
Anyway, it's an idiotic idea. But alas.
I smashed the folder. I went out, poured myself another cup of tea, renewed the stock of delicacies, which was quite reduced during the reading - and opened the second one.
Zvezdno-Progulsky Lavrik.
In the world - Lavrenty Leninovich Gulkin. I see. The ancestors were a little bit... On the ideas of communism. Although... I won't say anything bad about communism. It was a good idea. Incarnation isn't in the right place. Communism was to be built under a government that wasn't stealing. At least at the top. Just like under Stalin. If Joseph Vissarionovich had lived twenty years longer without falling into marasmus - you see, and communism would have already come. Or if Beria hadn't been slapped...
Okay. Let's not talk about sad.
The important thing is that Lavrik was born not only a typical Moscow boy, but also the family of a hereditary party worker.
Grandfather - the secretary of the party committee, Dad - had time to work in the place, and then, when perestroika began, he became a businessman. As a result, Lavrik turned out to be a typical representative of the "golden youth" - with a silver spoon in his mouth, Hollywood teeth, tram and Hamburg behavior and a firm belief that the sun shines to the world from his ... hands.
There is no argument, and among the children of businessmen there are normal. That is, those who also study, work and are going to work. But they are few. And ninety percent of "golden kids" are firmly convinced that "Daddy will buy". Or "Mom will pay."
The footage itself is incapable of even nailing. They just don't understand which end to put it on the wall and where the hammer has a joystick. But they are well versed in brands of cars and clothing, differentiating them by the principle of "cool" and "suck". They know all recently released computer toys and actively consume them. And they're great at distinguishing cocaine from stardust, being active consumers.
These kids know the word "want" very well. But with the word "no", they have big problems.
Lavric was the same child. Unfortunately for his father, the boy had a strong resemblance to Philya Kirkorov, whose active admirer he was. Songs, clips, dolls, posters, used clothing of his idol - Lavrik was unoriginal.
His father was a wolf to whine. And then the boy decided to sing.
Well. It was cheaper to pay than to reason. And Dad made an agreement with an old friend, who in the nineties went from Komsomol secretaries to producers and actively promoted the "star".
It was standard from here on out. The Starry Rain program. Under the Glass Show. Lots of "gramophones" and "disks." It's a provincial chase - that is, when a star changes eight cities in a week and gives concerts everywhere. Participation here and there. Sometimes in one or the other contest. Although Lavrik wasn't in the first place anywhere. Either Daddy did not pay, or did not want to give, even in spite of the money - reputation, it is more expensive.
It's possible that they're both.
You can't say anything, Lavric looked cute. Young Phil was more charming. Lavrik was interfering with Ryazan's nose with "potatoes" - cute, but... oh, I mean no more. The boy made himself an operation and began to look even more like his idol.
Why the hell did this treasure surrender to Mieczysław?
I don't know. But for me, show business and the restaurant business is a darkness. Let the vampire decide for himself who and when to sell to the audience. And me, I get to be the hostess of the show. I'll monitor the number of napkins and the arrangement of dishes. And I'm done with that.
I put the file aside without even asking about Lavrik's work. What for? The dossier was much more curious.
Read about bears?
Oh, fuck it! I'm sleepy! Tomorrow I'll look around if there's time left. And if not, we'll survive. The main thing is not to ruffle in the face, we'll figure it out.
I had no nightmares last night. It's nothing, it's nice. That's why I woke up, ready to do my best.
First I checked the mailbox - and not for nothing. Another issue of the magazine from the vampire hunters has arrived! I plunged on the couch and grabbed a nasty gray notebook. Yeah, it's published... The IPF doesn't spend much money on a textbook. Our toilet paper sometimes gets better quality. But it doesn't matter. It's all about the content. I flipped the table of contents.
Why? It's a good topic. Exorcism. The story of what, why, who, when, Russia, abroad...
This issue is entirely devoted to the exorcism of demons. Well, that's not the worst subject! Last issue, for example, was about the bites of different kinds of werewolves. With illustrations, showing the difference in bite and size between the tusks... And at the same time, there were ways to destroy werewolves. It was presented as "the liberation of the human soul from the clutches of the devil, in which the soul gets after being bitten by a brat of the unclean". What the hell werewolves have to do with me personally is still unclear. It's silly! The Chinese have different shapes of eyes and different colors of skin. And werewolves have fur on full moons. And faggots, sorry, comrades-in-law (yeah, Tambov's wolf comrade, cold and hungry in winter) do not do a good job. But neither the first nor the third we do not shoot off. And secondly, why do we have to fester?
No, it's not. Either everyone who's different is everyone under the knife, or I'm sorry.
And what's this? A bookmark?
A small square of paper was attached to the front page. I pulled it out and looked at it.
The thick cardboard was printed in gothic typeface:
Invitation to 2 (two) persons.
And a little lower:
"The IPF invites Leoverenskaya Julia Yevgenyevna to Pastor Michael's lecture on the topic of "Exorcism. The lecture will take place 01.09.20** at 19-00 in the small hall of the cinema "Native Land". Entrance strictly by invitation tickets upon presentation of passport".
It's an interesting movie. I picked up the phone and dialed up Rokin's number.
The IPF came home. And he even picked up the phone himself. It's a rare case.
- Rokin here.
- Hello? Konstantin Sergeyevich? Good afternoon.
- Julia? Hello. It's good to hear from you. What's wrong?
- It's not a big deal. I got an invitation here. For a lecture.
- Right. You got it with the magazine. Are you coming?
I froze. Remembering what the previous lecture almost ended for me...
- Julia, it's perfectly safe for you. We do not wish you harm or have hostile intentions towards you. That is why the lecture is not held in our temple, but in a public place. And you can even take with you any person of your choice.
Mm-hmm. And who can I take with me? Just l
ike that, just like that? Everyone I know - from this side of life - is either a vampire, a werewolf, or an IPF. The first two categories do not pass due to physiology, the third category I do not trust. Should I invite Grandpa? Yeah, running and falling. And who?
Who am I not feeling sorry for, anyway?
Maybe a HSE teacher?
Rokin, worried about my long silence, cut through the other end of the tube.
- Julia, we are not your enemies. And the sooner you realize that...
- The sooner they kill me?
- How unconscionable you are!
- You know, after your Uncle Lesha, that is, Daddy Alexi - I'm completely unconscious. It seems that in folk culture, what he wanted to do with me is called "zombie". I hope they're cleaning pots in the other world.
- Julia!
I realized I was out of line. And I took a step back.
- Okay. I'll think about it. Will you be there?
- Absolutely.
- Then have a nice day.
- Goodbye.
I hung up and stared at the magazine thoughtfully.
We haven't seen the IPF since summer. After the setup with this holy father, I stopped trusting Rokin. He's a good man. And he's an honest employee. And he says what he thinks. That's why he's still not a general. But the rest of the IPF mob...
No, it's not. The only ecclesiastical figure who worked for his country, I emphasize, e-din-love, was Cardinal Richelieu. And everyone else worked exclusively for himself. And considering that the IPF came from the Inquisition... citizens, are you actually aware that the Inquisition is the birth of the Catholic Church? There hasn't been such a compost in Russia for centuries. But the Catholics gave birth to it.
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