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With my dear one, heaven and in the hut! Nicoletta, Ivan Podushkin’s mother, decided to check the truth of this proverb. She left her oligarch husband for a new acquaintance, Vanya, the famous fashion designer and host of a top-rated TV show, Crazy Fred. Moreover, Nicoletta could use her son’s apartment as a hut. True, all this happened later... And first, Ivan Podushkin took up the investigation of the mysterious death of Father Dionysius, the rector of the temple in the small town of Boysk... A lot of strange things happened there thirty years ago, and no less tragic events are happening today. How many secrets were revealed in the small town, as soon as Ivan Podushkin found in the things of the late priest a photograph with a mysterious inscription: “Tom, Gnome, Bom, Elephant and Horse. We will win!"

The work was published in 2017 by Eksmo Publishing House. The book is part of the series "Gentleman of Detective Ivan Podushkin". On our website you can download the book “The Astral Body of a Bachelor” in fb2, rtf, epub, pdf, txt format or read online. The book's rating is 3.2 out of 5. Here, before reading, you can also turn to reviews from readers who are already familiar with the book and find out their opinion. In our partner's online store you can buy and read the book in paper version.

Darya Dontsova

Astral body of a bachelor

“If you come to your first date with a brick in your hand, the girl will immediately understand: this guy has serious intentions - and will marry you...”

Usually when I'm in the car I listen classical music, but now, turning on the radio, I clearly pressed my finger in the wrong place, got on some other wavelength, heard this strange phrase uttered by a hoarse in a female voice, and was amazed. My rich imagination immediately unfolded the following picture: I am not Ivan Pavlovich Podushkin at all, but a certain fragile lady who saw a man approaching her, dressed to the nines, with a heavy brick... What would I do in in this case in the place of that beauty? The answer is clear: I would immediately take off my shoes high heels and fought barefoot. The thought of a wedding certainly would not have entered my head. But I have been convinced more than once that a representative of the stronger sex is not given the opportunity to understand the train of thought of the fair half of humanity.

- What does the brick have to do with it? – a thick bass sound came from the radio.

I wonder what the presenter will answer?

“Oh, these men...” chirped the mezzo-soprano. – Do you remember the proverb? What should a real macho do?

“I don’t know,” her interlocutor admitted.

“Build a house, plant a tree, give birth to a son,” the balabolka listed. - Therefore, if you show up on a date with a brick, any woman will immediately realize that you are ready to build a mansion. So, boys, keep this in mind if you want to win the hand of your beloved. I assure you, take a stone with you - and not one of us will stand.

Demyanka, who was lying next to him in the passenger seat, whined quietly. I looked at the dog, shook my head and couldn’t resist commenting to my four-legged companion:

- Wow... The presenter, perhaps, should have said: “Take a brick in one hand, a seedling in the other, and hang a sign around your neck: “I bought diapers.” I am also confused by the words that a man must “give birth to a son.” In my amateurish opinion, the use of in this context The verb “to give birth” is incorrect. Even with a great desire, neither I nor any other man will be able to give birth to a child. “Raising a son” - this is possible. And if we talk about stones in relation to the situation, then the ladies would prefer a diamond the size of a brick. I hope I don't seem boring to you?

Demyanka, naturally, did not answer my question, but suddenly jumped up, put her front paws on the “torpedo” and howled. I, who had turned away from the windshield during my speech, looked forward again and quickly pressed the brake pedal. The car stopped abruptly, I was thrown forward, the dog fell from the seat. I straightened up and took a breath. It’s good that my foreign car has an emergency braking function, thanks to it I managed to avoid running into a motorcycle that was lying right in the middle of the road. I wonder where its owner is?

I climbed out and shouted:

- Young man! Mister biker! Are you okay?

“No,” came the sound from the roadside ditch.

I got nervous, followed the sound and saw in the ravine a figure in a protective motorcycle suit... bright pink.

- Girl, are you feeling bad? – I was scared.

The kneeling man turned around. He had a thick black beard and mustache, I gasped.

“Listen like that,” said the man.

- Sorry what? – I didn’t understand.

- Shuka! Shvolosh! - the biker yelled. - Hustle!

I began frantically searching my pockets for my mobile phone. Everything is clear: the poor guy had a stroke while driving, the unfortunate man fell off his motorcycle, rolled into a ravine, and his speech was impaired.

- Hey, where are you calling? – the victim suddenly said quite clearly.

“To the ambulance,” I explained. - Don't worry, they will help you.

- I'm waiting! – the biker snapped. “I just lost my husk and I’m looking for it.” Be kind, help! The lings fell out too, I can’t see a damn thing.

-What have you lost? – I didn’t realize. And I heard in response:

- Lingeries and shambles. Eshklyuzhiv.

I hid my cell phone. So... The guy is not sick, he just talks strangely. I lost my lenses and something else. He says - rubbish! What it is?

“I saw that shuda flew away,” muttered the stranger. - Damn! Chert! It will take years to do it! But Shashi is not there. No Shashi! They don’t do anything without it.

And then Demyanka ran up to the ravine with a loud bark.

- Oh, shobaka! – exclaimed the biker.

“She doesn’t bite,” I warned. – Demyanka kind dog, he just loves to bark.

“Sham is like that, I like to yell,” the biker laughed.

I saw his open mouth and realized:

- Jaw! You've lost your false teeth!

“He made a noise,” the motorcyclist continued to have fun.

- Did you sneeze? – I clarified.

“Yeah,” the biker nodded. - He coughed from the lice of his soul, and the lings with a rustle flew into the ravine. I can't find it.

I began to ruffle the fallen leaves with my hands. By the way, let me explain: it’s January, but the snow hasn’t fallen yet, the weather is more like November.

“Shpashibo,” said the biker, rummaging through the dry leaves.

I can’t say how long we spent trying to find false teeth; it seemed like an eternity to me. In the end I was chilled to the bone. A person who drives in a car does not wear warm boots with thick soles and a sheepskin coat, so I was wearing a thin leather jacket and suede shoes, no wonder my toes turned into popsicles.

- Oh, you son of a bitch! – the biker suddenly howled. - Well done Shtervets! Give me a fucking shobaka!

I turned around and saw Demyanka - she was desperately waving her tail, holding a denture in her mouth.

- Hooray! – the biker yelled, grabbed the dog’s teeth and quickly stuffed them into his mouth.

- The prosthesis is dirty! – I couldn’t stand it. - It needs to be washed!

– Where do you see the tap here? – the motorcyclist laughed.

“I have a bottle of water in the car,” I said.

“It’s too late,” the man answered. – Microbes die from dirt. You have a super dog, he helped me out. Just think, I have such a jaw structure that making a prosthesis would be terrible hemorrhoids. And I need a diamond one.

- Diamond? – I asked in surprise.

The biker bared his teeth. I saw that two of his fangs were decorated with sparkling stones, and I coughed.

I handed the card to the stranger, who said:

- Well, I'm off! – he stuffed it into his pocket.

Before I could say a word, the biker saddled up on his jalopy, placed a pink helmet decorated with black feathers on his head, started the engine and disappeared around the bend.

Demyanka burst into barking.

“I agree with you,” I nodded, “he forgot to tell us “thank you.” Okay, let's go home, I hope no more incidents will happen.

My mobile phone rang in my pocket, I took it out and heard a pleasant soprano.

- Good afternoon. Kindly call Ivan Pavlovich to the telephone.

“I’m listening to you,” I answered.

- Are you Mr. Podushkin? Owner of a private detective agency? – the lady clarified.

“That’s right,” I confirmed.

“One person gave me your phone number,” the woman continued, “he said that you would help.” I have a problem, but I don’t want to discuss it over the phone. Do you, Ivan Pavlovich, free time?

At this stage I had no clients, but I did not admit it, I answered:

- There is a window today. Will fourteen o'clock suit you?

- Wonderful! – the lady was delighted. And she explained the reason for her joy: “I can go home today.”

– Are you not a Muscovite? – I was wary. – Sorry, I don’t travel to other cities. Excuse me, what is your name?

“Oh, I forgot to introduce myself...” the interlocutor was embarrassed. – My name is Ekaterina Sidorova. I live in the region, it’s fifty-five kilometers from the capital. City of Boysk. Have you heard of this?

“I didn’t have a chance,” I admitted, driving onto the highway.

“It’s not surprising,” Catherine sighed, “we don’t have any special attractions, just an ordinary settlement.” Is this too far for you?

“No,” I answered.

- So, are you going to help me? – the woman was happy again.

“Let’s meet first and you’ll tell us what happened,” I asked prudently. - Come at two o'clock.

I had barely entered the apartment when Boris appeared in the hall and asked in alarm:

– What’s wrong with our girl?

“The great veterinarian we went to didn’t find anything,” I said, “and gave a verdict: the dog is healthier than the wild boar.”

Demyanka sat up, but immediately squealed and jumped to her paws.

– But she can’t sit! - Boris exclaimed. “Didn’t the doctor notice this?”

“I drew the attention of the Aesculapius to this fact,” I sighed.

- What is he? – asked Boris.

I took off my shoes and put on warm slippers.

– We did an ultrasound, passed all the tests and...

- AND? - Boris repeated.

I spread my hands.

- Nothing. Demyanka’s body works like a real Swiss watch, and the little dog is in perfect condition from head to toe.

“Dogs don’t have heels,” my secretary remarked.

“Demyanka is healthy from nose to tail,” I corrected, grinning. Then he picked up the ball lying by the hanger and threw it into the corridor.

Demyanka rushed with all her might to get the toy, and I looked at Boris and spread my hands:

“A sick animal won’t run around like that.”

“That’s right,” the assistant agreed. – The dog cannot sit, she is uncomfortable.

“The doctor suggested that Demyanka was stressed after giving birth,” I explained. – The veterinarian gave me the phone number of a specialist who deals with such problems, here is his business card.

“I’ll call you right now,” Boris fussed. And then the doorbell rang.

I looked at the intercom screen and saw a very elderly lady in dark dress with countless pearl jewelry and was surprised. Who is this? Why is the stranger not wearing any outerwear? It's cold outside.

- Who do you want? – asked Boris.

“You,” answered a voice slightly distorted by the intercom.

The secretary opened the door.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the old woman nodded majestically, floating into the hall, “I am Emma Emilievna Rosalius.”

“Very nice,” Boris and I said in unison.

“I live in the apartment below you,” the lady continued.

- Yes? – my assistant was surprised. – It seems that the apartment belongs to Nikolai Sergeevich Onufin, and he constantly lives abroad...

“This is my son,” Emma Emilievna interrupted him. – Since yesterday I have been your neighbor and I kindly ask you not to make noise. I am a professor, I work from home, and I am writing a monograph.

“Ivan Pavlovich doesn’t like chaos either,” Boris added.

– Put socks on the child! – Emma Emilievna demanded.

- Which child? – I didn’t realize.

“On yours,” the learned lady snapped.

“Ivan Pavlovich is a bachelor,” my secretary explained, “he has no children.”

“The absence of a wife does not mean the absence of children,” the guest noted reasonably.

Suddenly a roar, ringing, and stomping were heard from the corridor. A disheveled Demyanka flew into the hall, carrying a toy in her teeth.

- Rat! - the grandmother squealed. – O great gods of Olympus!

“It’s plush,” I explained and tried to take the toy mouse away from the dog.

Demyanka deftly dodged and ran away.

“There are no children in the apartment,” Boris repeated.

- On whom? – Boris was taken aback.

“For your dog,” the neighbor clarified.

“We’re having a girl,” I corrected.

“The gender of the noise source doesn’t interest me,” the lady chuckled, “just remove the obstacle to my creativity.”

“I doubt they make house shoes for dogs,” Boris drawled.

– There is a store “ Quiet house“- said the elderly lady, “you’ll get what you need there.” I don't want to hear the stomping! I am working! You have two hours. If after this time the discomfort bothering me does not disappear, I will call Grigory Alekseevich.

Having spoken, Emma Emilievna turned around and left, forgetting to say goodbye.

“I have no idea,” the secretary shrugged.

“Hmm, it turns out there is some great and terrible Grigory Alekseevich in the world...” I laughed.

“Some people become strange with age,” my assistant sighed. - Well, how can Demyanka’s running around annoy her? The house has excellent sound insulation. And now it’s five to one, that is, a clear day, and not late evening or night. I guess we don't need to take orders from the old lady. Why go to the Quiet House store? At this time we have every right even work as a hammer drill.

- It is five minutes to one? – I came to my senses. - I have to go, the client will appear soon.

“Go, Ivan Pavlovich, and I’ll remove the fragments of the vase that Demyanka apparently knocked,” Boris said sadly.

– Why do you think that the dog broke something? – I was surprised.

“Before she burst into the hall, a rumble and ringing came from the corridor,” Boris recalled. - I think she died floor vase, which stood at the entrance to your office.

I was happy:

- A gray-blue pot-bellied tub, on which are depicted who knows who with triangular heads?

Boris went into the corridor and said from there, raising his voice slightly:

- Alas, yes.

- Great! – I cheered. – This item was purchased by Nicoletta at a charity reception that her sworn friend Coca organized to save Australian zebras.

Boris returned to the hall and asked in surprise:

– Do zebras live in Australia?

“No, of course,” I said cheerfully. – But this did not bother Koku. She rented a restaurant, called together journalists, various celebrities, as well as artists and sculptors. Few people famous figures artists donated their works, celebrities bought them, money was donated to the Australian Zebra Rescue Fund, newspapers and magazines wrote about the event. The stars came to the party to appear in the press, painters and sculptors pursued the same goal, Coca longed for the fame of a philanthropist, this is now fashionable. All the guests were happy, but no one knows how the zebras feel. Nicoletta acquired an extremely ugly vase. Mama didn’t want to put it in her mansion, but she didn’t even dare throw away the “beauty.” And what did she do?

“I gave it to my son,” Boris grinned.

- Exactly! – I nodded. – Unfortunately, my birthday fell on the day after the event, and my kind mother solemnly handed me a vase with the words: “Vanya! This is a unique piece, the work of the great Rodin, I ordered it especially for you.”

– Did a Frenchman sculpt vases? – Boris was surprised. “I always thought of him as a sculptor.” And Francois Auguste Rodin died at the beginning of the twentieth century.

“You’re right about everything,” I said. “But it’s not worth explaining such subtleties, like anything at all, to Nicoletta.” Naturally, I had to take the gift and profusely express my gratitude. I placed the vase precisely in the corridor in the hope that it would soon break.

“I noticed a long time ago: the more terrible a thing is, the longer it serves its owner,” Boris chuckled. - But in the end the “beauty” completed her earthly path.

“I’m extremely glad of this circumstance,” I smiled, taking my jacket off the hanger. - That's it, I have to go to the office.

“My father, Igor Semenovich Sidorov, was killed,” the potential client spoke, sitting down in a chair, “but the local detectives do not admit it.” At first they even hinted that it was a suicide. And this is categorically impossible; suicide is excluded. I have no complaints against the chief of police of Boysk, he good man...Oh, I forgot to say: my dad was the rector of the local church, his middle name is Father Dionysius. So suicide is out of the question. And in accidental death I don't believe. But you see, the chief police officer of our district has a higher leadership, and so they are trying with all their might to present the death of the priest as an accident. Why? They don't want noise. Sorry, I'm probably speaking confusingly. I'm very nervous...

I listened carefully to the visitor, whose age was difficult to determine. Sidorova’s face was without wrinkles, but the clothes did not suit the young woman in any way - Ekaterina was wearing a long, almost to her toes, dark gray dress that looked like a robe, buttoned at the throat. Her hair is styled in a hairstyle favored by ballerinas and circus performers, that is, gathered in a tight bun at the back of her head. No jewelry, no cosmetics. And the jacket she took off in the hallway is the simplest one. And boots with flat thick soles.

“Suicide is ruled out,” the client repeated.

Why did the police decide it was a suicide? – I asked.

“Now I’ll explain in detail,” Ekaterina promised.

“All attention,” I nodded and began to listen to her leisurely story.

...Thirty years ago, the town of Boysk near Moscow was a village in which several old women lived. They existed thanks to the church working in the village - one stood at the candle box, another served as a cleaner, the third hung in the refectory. The grannies had only pennies of money, but they fed at the temple and were happy with their fate. Five kilometers from Boysk there was another church, where a very young priest served, and there were more parishioners there. IN Soviet times attendance at services was not encouraged, but local believers did not care about the indignation of the communists; they constantly went to services with the young priest in the village of Markovo. And only a few visited the temple in Boysk. The old Father Vladimir, who was long overdue for retirement, served as rector there. Father Vladimir lived poorly and had no children. His wife, Mother Irina, a wonderful housewife, got up at four in the morning and took care of the cow, goat, chickens, vegetable garden and greenhouse herself.

Nobody knew why the church in Boysk, where at most fifteen people gathered for the liturgy on Sunday, was not closed. But the temple worked. Father Vladimir’s vestments were fairly worn out; to save money, the priest did not turn on the electricity; he served with candles, of which few burned. In winter it was cold in the church - the boiler room ran on coal, and it was expensive, so there was practically no heating. But thanks to Mother Irina, the priest did not go hungry. Local old women and beggars could have lunch in the refectory; there was always hot soup and bread.

One rainy autumn morning, mother asked her husband to go to church in rubber boots. But Father Vladimir refused, said that it was impossible to conduct the service in an indecent manner, and, as always, put on his only black shoes with thin soles. A huge puddle formed in the church yard, the priest got his feet wet and stood on the stone floor in wet shoes in a barely heated room for two hours. Father Vladimir was then seventy years old, apparently his body was weakened. The next day he came down with pneumonia, and a week later he died. A young priest came to perform his funeral service from a church in the village of Markovo, where the bulk of the local parishioners went. After the funeral, he told Mother Irina that the authorities were trying their best to close the temple in Boysk and most likely they would succeed.

The next day, Mother Irina unexpectedly left for Moscow, which greatly surprised her fellow villagers - in their memory, she had never traveled further than the village of Markovo. The widow was absent for a week, and when she returned, she delighted everyone with the news: a new priest was about to arrive in Boysk, very young, a recent graduate of the seminary. And soon Father Dionysius actually appeared. He arrived not alone, but with a baby, a girl Katya, several months old. Local old women began to whisper. Where is the child's mother? Why did the father come only with his daughter? Why didn’t he immediately begin to serve, but sit in a hut? For what reason did Mother Irina not vacate the parish house for a new rector?

Ten days later, the oldest resident of Boysk, Matryona Filippovna Reutova, knocked on Mother Irina’s door and without any ceremony asked:

- Do not make noise! – the widow spoke sternly. And she explained: “Father Dionysius fell ill and came down with a fever.” And his daughter fell ill. Their flu is severe.

- Where did his wife go? – Matryona couldn’t cope with curiosity.

“She died in childbirth,” Mother Irina answered sadly, “Father Dionysius was left alone with the baby in his arms.” He will recover and begin to serve. And I will help him and Katyusha.

Father Dionysius really got to his feet and got to work. Mother Irina began to take care of Father Vladimir’s successor and the girl.

In the spring, drunken guys with machine guns burst into the church in Markovo during a service and shot the parishioners and killed the priest. When leaving, they threw grenades at the altar. The dilapidated church building collapsed from the explosions. The criminals were quickly identified, and the surviving parishioners unanimously said to the investigator:

- These are Mitka Kosoy’s brothers. He wanted to get married, but the priest refused him, explaining: “Lent is coming, we have to wait.” The bandit got angry and yelled: “Go mumble what you need to, otherwise it will get worse, I don’t care about your post.” The abbot again talks about the fact that he cannot perform the ritual. Kosoy got enraged and did something crazy.

The church in Markovo was not restored, and people began to go to Boysk. Father Dionysius turned out to be very enterprising; he had rich businessman acquaintances in Moscow who generously donated money to the temple. Then, not far from the village, a large foreign company built a chocolate factory.

Ten years later, the once wretched village became unrecognizable; Boysk turned into a pretty town. The church was repaired, the domes shone with new gilding, and there were many parishioners. Mother Irina still managed Father Dionisy’s household, raised Katya and taught at Sunday school. And father, in the world Igor Semenovich Sidorov, founded Cultural Center. Now it is visited by many children and adults; various clubs work for them: singing, dancing, cooking. The priest helped children from disadvantaged families; during the holidays he always opened something like a camp for them. There was a help office at the temple, where a psychologist sat, with whom they could discuss different problems both parishioners and non-believers. Thanks to Father Dionysius, the church became very popular; it was a place where people went in sorrow and joy. Unfortunately, Mother Irina died, but she saw Boysk flourishing and said shortly before her death to her pupil:

- I will see Father Vladimir in the Kingdom of God and tell him whom the Lord sent to strengthen our temple, take care of your father.

Katenka married the parish elder and has three children. But the young woman was not just a housewife, she helped her father, managed Sunday school, led circles.

And everything went well until the day Father Dionysius was found dead at the foot of the bell tower. Without thinking twice, the expert announced: it was suicide. But none of the parishioners believed his words. A deeply religious priest could not commit suicide! The indignant people, who did not agree with the hasty conclusion of the criminologist, went to the police in a crowd and demanded additional investigation. The pathologist was ordered to examine the body again, and he rendered a verdict: Father Dionysius had suffered a stroke. At the moment of a brain stroke, the priest, who was in the bell tower, staggered and fell down. There was no suicide, there was an accident, the priest can be buried.

The people calmed down and cried at the funeral. But Katya’s anxiety grew in her soul, and questions swarmed in her head. Why did dad climb the bell tower, and even late in the evening? What was he doing there? Is this connected with the arrival of a man who visited the priest shortly before his death?..

– Were you surprised that someone stopped by Father Dionysius? Did he not like guests? – I clarified, interrupting the narrator.

“Guests...” Ekaterina drawled. – The door in our house did not close. In those years when it had not yet appeared mobile connection, they came running if they needed to call. For example, someone gets sick and needs to call an ambulance. The priest had a telephone; they gave it to Father Vladimir. And in general, if they needed anything, people turned to Father Dionysius. People came to him for consolation, advice, support, blessing. In short, the path to the priest’s house was not overgrown, he did not refuse anyone. While Mother Irina lived, she regulated the flow of the suffering. My father was perspicacious, and if he advised someone something, it was better to listen to him. Those who acted contrary later bitterly repented. Dad knew the past and saw the future.

“He had psychic abilities,” I clarified.

Catherine crossed herself.

- No! God forbid you consider Father Dionysius a sorcerer, a witcher. He simply looked at the person, and his whole life opened up before him. One day a parishioner approached him and asked him to marry her. Dad asked who the girl had chosen as her life partner, became gloomy and advised her: “Wait a couple of years.” - "Why?" – she was surprised. “Just wait,” the father repeated. – You explained to me that you met your betrothed on the Internet. You shouldn't run down the aisle without getting to know the man properly. What's your hurry? A wedding is an important step. Talk to the groom longer. And don’t register your marriage at the registry office yet, don’t live with him until the wedding. You don’t have my blessing.” But the girl really wanted to get married, and she, without listening to the priest, went to apply. But it was not possible to carry out our plans - on the way to the registry office, the bride fell, broke both legs, and ended up in the hospital.

“It happens,” I nodded. - Some people have a well-developed premonition, your dad felt...

“You didn’t listen to the end,” the client stopped me. “The groom heard from the doctor that the bride would have to undergo a long treatment and that she would probably remain lame, and he left her. A couple of years later, the girl married the doctor who treated her, and soon learned shocking news: the ex-fiancé married someone else, and six months after the wedding, he killed his wife in a fit of jealousy; the guy turned out to be mentally ill. It turns out that my father saved his parishioner from great trouble. So, actually, about the guests in dad's house. Mother Irina tried to hold back the flow of visitors, but she was not doing a good job. After her death, I began to play the role of Cerberus. First of all, I hung a notice on the door: “Father Dionysius receives the suffering on Tuesday and Thursday, from one in the afternoon to five in the evening. We kindly ask you to make an appointment in advance and not to disturb the priest at other times.” At first the people grumbled; people were accustomed to pulling the priest at any moment. But then everyone calmed down and began to come by appointment. My hut is opposite my father's. On November 10th, I left my dad at nine in the evening, asking him to lock the door behind me. She returned to her room and began to wash the dishes. We have a window in the kitchen, I wiped the plates and, no, no, looked out into the street. And there, right next to the gate, a large lantern was burning, I could clearly see my dad’s yard and the entrance to his house. And at some point I noticed that a young man came up onto the porch and his father let him in. I got angry and wanted to go and kick out the uninvited guest. I also thought, I remember that some people are extremely selfish and unceremonious, so he needs it, and that’s it... But I started crying younger son– I fell, broke my nose, and I rushed to the child. And when I looked out the window again, I saw that my father and that guy were already walking down the street towards the temple. I saw their backs. Father in his old coat and skufa. And then a thought occurred to me: it was probably Pasha Vetrov who came running to dad. His father became very ill, caught the flu, and, apparently, Philip Petrovich became very ill, so the son hurried to his father. Oh, I felt so ashamed that I got angry! So I went to read the Three-Canon. And in the morning they found dad at the bell tower.

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Excerpt

“If you come to your first date with a brick in your hand, the girl will immediately understand: this guy has serious intentions - and will marry you...”

Usually, while in the car, I listen to classical music, but now, turning on the radio, I clearly pressed my finger in the wrong place, got on some other wavelength, heard this strange phrase uttered by a hoarse female voice, and was amazed. My rich imagination immediately unfolded the following picture: I am not Ivan Pavlovich Podushkin at all, but a certain fragile lady who saw a man approaching her, dressed to the nines, with a heavy brick... What would I have done in this case in that woman’s place? beauties? The answer is clear: I would immediately take off my high-heeled shoes and run barefoot. The thought of a wedding certainly would not have entered my head. But I have been convinced more than once that a representative of the stronger sex is not given the opportunity to understand the train of thought of the fair half of humanity.

- What does the brick have to do with it? – a thick bass sound came from the radio.

I wonder what the presenter will answer?

“Oh, these men...” chirped the mezzo-soprano. – Do you remember the proverb? What should a real macho do?

“I don’t know,” her interlocutor admitted.

Demyanka, who was lying next to him in the passenger seat, whined quietly. I looked at the dog, shook my head and couldn’t resist commenting to my four-legged companion:

- Wow... The presenter, perhaps, should have said: “Take a brick in one hand, a seedling in the other, and hang a sign around your neck: “I bought diapers.” I am also confused by the words that a man must “give birth to a son.” In my amateurish opinion, the use of the verb “give birth” in this context is incorrect. Even with a great desire, neither I nor any other man will be able to give birth to a child. “Raising a son” - this is possible. And if we talk about stones in relation to the situation, then the ladies would prefer a diamond the size of a brick. I hope I don't seem boring to you?

I climbed out and shouted:

- Young man! Mister biker! Are you okay?

“No,” came the sound from the roadside ditch.

I got nervous, followed the sound and saw in the ravine a figure in a protective motorcycle suit... bright pink.

- Girl, are you feeling bad? – I was scared.

The kneeling man turned around. He had a thick black beard and mustache, I gasped.

“Listen like that,” said the man.

- Sorry what? – I didn’t understand.

- Shuka! Shvolosh! - the biker yelled. - Hustle!

Chapter 1

“If you come to your first date with a brick in your hand, the girl will immediately understand: this guy has serious intentions - and will marry you...”

- What does the brick have to do with it? – a thick bass sound came from the radio.

I wonder what the presenter will answer?

“Oh, these men...” chirped the mezzo-soprano. – Do you remember the proverb? What should a real macho do?

“I don’t know,” her interlocutor admitted.

Demyanka, who was lying next to him in the passenger seat, whined quietly. I looked at the dog, shook my head and couldn’t resist commenting to my four-legged companion:

- Wow... The presenter, perhaps, should have said: “Take a brick in one hand, a seedling in the other, and hang a sign around your neck: “I bought diapers.” I am also confused by the words that a man must “give birth to a son.” In my amateurish opinion, the use of the verb “give birth” in this context is incorrect. Even with a great desire, neither I nor any other man will be able to give birth to a child. “Raising a son” - this is possible. And if we talk about stones in relation to the situation, then the ladies would prefer a diamond the size of a brick. I hope I don't seem boring to you?

I climbed out and shouted:

- Young man! Mister biker! Are you okay?

“No,” came the sound from the roadside ditch.

I got nervous, followed the sound and saw in the ravine a figure in a protective motorcycle suit... bright pink.

- Girl, are you feeling bad? – I was scared.

The kneeling man turned around.

He had a thick black beard and mustache, I gasped.

“Listen like that,” said the man.

- Sorry what? – I didn’t understand.

- Shuka! Shvolosh! - the biker yelled. - Hustle!

- Hey, where are you calling? – the victim suddenly said quite clearly.

“To the ambulance,” I explained. - Don't worry, they will help you.

- I'm waiting! – the biker snapped. “I just lost my husk and I’m looking for it.” Be kind, help! The lings fell out too, I can’t see a damn thing.

-What have you lost? – I didn’t realize. And I heard in response:

- Lingeries and shambles. Eshklyuzhiv.

I hid my cell phone. So... The guy is not sick, he just talks strangely. I lost my lenses and something else. He says - rubbish! What it is?

“I saw that shuda flew away,” muttered the stranger. - Damn! Chert! It will take years to do it! But Shashi is not there. No Shashi! They don’t do anything without it.

And then Demyanka ran up to the ravine with a loud bark.

- Oh, shobaka! – exclaimed the biker.

“She doesn’t bite,” I warned. – Demyanka is a kind dog, she just loves to bark.