Muddy story about a sheep ...

Trouble the story of one sheep, geese, and twenty-what-it Shred.

In the summer of 1990 Godea I decided to become an adult. I knew three ways how to do it quickly and it does not hurt: lose their virginity to do chemistry and live without parents. The first option I have not considered (unlike the Shred), and validol mom was just that to digest the second and third.

So chemistry. First pack gidroperida made me blonde, then the aunt of the hairdresser made me a sheep. I was like all the heads ovoschebazah immediately, with the only difference that I was 15 and I did not know how to pristavuchie Shreds between the eyes (ah, I still do not know). But I asked the hairdresser, I want white curls like Madonna in the video Papa Dont Preach. No question, the pope because the pope, said the hairdresser. I saw an hour in the mirror whispered: "Mom».

For the implementation of the third paragraph of growing up with a friend, we went for the summer to her home in a small village in the Kuban. Sama relatives had just married the day they worked in the vineyards, and at night they worked over each other, so that the whole of their supervised contact was reduced to the phrase: "Take a look ka Kaki fify Moscow. Pigs give away the hut ».

The very same village was like discharged from Gogol's Dikanka. The same hut-hut with embroidered curtains and bottles of moonshine in the cellar, the same thick gossips with long songs and a loud obscenities, the same lads hungry for love hot heart in the chest and pants. And the geese.

In the backyard of geese lived. Yet nothing and no one is blowing up my emotional world of fifteen, these whorish geese. I do not remember tolikovyh or host parties, and these cattle still can not list names, wake me up at night. On the first day, I accidentally went to the toilet (just could not three months before the house to suffer). I do not know in Dikanka, but in the toilet hut represented the usual small hole in a vertical coffin for the poultry yard. And the toilet all its mouldering board is that it is not worse than any there Pisan upstarts. In short toilet was pulling to the side. Sitting in it ought to pose Eagle underdeveloped cerebellum, holding the wings of the side walls. Well, raskoryachishsya, roll to the right with respect to the body 30 degrees ass and smell strongly pressured conceit, but an adult and curly. Almost like Madonna.

In the midst of reflection in the door slot squeezed huge beak goose, who perfected the movement opened the door wide open. The leader, I guessed. Immediately tightened his brothers, in-laws, godfathers, Zhinkov children. They stood and stared right into my soul golozhopuyu. In such a defenseless somehow scary to think that even came into our heads a couple dozen geese, which are able to bugbears like a real open door. The idea: "What if the owners come here, that's what stydoba" quickly gave way to the opposite: "If I could have come home, Uncle Yuraaaaaa." He ran to cry uncle Jura, neighed, said: "Hm, they always look at all, which they still do, after all interesting, and you're a new man, not even a person, but a whole woman." And so it went for me all summer twenty geese, I even learned by the end of the holidays does not flinch from their grunting.

In the best tradition of flirting with the reader, the author writes more generally as:
The attentive reader will probably ask, but what Tolia, who had nothing to do just mentioned. And was Tolia. As later Uncle Yura recognized pretty exhausting moonshine, the village lads argued, whether metropolitan girls remain the property of the girls will stand there in front of the southern nights and brave lads. For some reason I thought then that the dispute is sure to reindeer-fawn hat, this idea raised degree of romance. And the idea, Nájera in southern reindeer-fawn hat I have not visited. To choose the best seduction. Elected on the basis of having a guitar and motorcycle and lack of a criminal record. I went to Shreds.

Shreds courted beautifully. He held the best places for Indian movies, he taught me to drive a motorcycle and dive into the sea from a cliff, he taught kissing. We could dance a few hours, and then the same drive on a motorbike, illuminated billions of stars. My lips were burning kisses and sea water. But left alone, I was surprised considering new sensations, fills me. It was not love, or even had a passion. If you go out into the street after the storm, the air will feel completely different. I was curious to try a different air, wondering how the geese.

A month later, Tolia could not resist. I was blindfolded, seated on a motorcycle, and said the surprise baby. Surprise almost jumped out of his pants Tolikovyh at some little hut killed, of which furniture was just a rusty bed and somehow gramophone. My novel filled the air once again posmerdel thunderstorms as there was. No, I'm not the dynamite guy, I'm a girl, an excellent student, and this word is not known. I looked at myself. That county is facing the bed and looks like a guy pulls a sheet. As it was not like all the previous night, they had an easy, fun and drunk with emotion. And those emotions that I felt now that I was sick. "I went home, Tol." Shreds, threw the pillow on the floor and calmly replied, "Well, come».

Who is surprised to think, I was not afraid then trudge night on the way to the village. I was once ... did. Empty. In front of the house, I have to go home, go, go, go. Thoughts worthy of an earthworm.

At the gate met a friend who listened to my failed love story, I said to you, Helen was lucky, the barn was taken, I was offered the same love to the grave in the garden with watermelons. All we managed to do with a friend until the morning: and laugh and porevet. And in the morning from his uncle, his mother, Yuri learned that about the events of last night and the whole village knows that he is very proud that his guests are good girls. In the light of the information opened, good girls beat a little dishes of Uncle Yura and went to bed. Ahead were two magical month of our adult life and curly.

PS: I found a picture where I am with a sheep on his head. It is now autumn 1990, in the summer, I was still oduvanestee. Not surprisingly, the geese kept staring at me, and the local sheep skedaddle his legs. I even understand why Shreds not particularly insisted.

© nerosse






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