Arseny Mironov “Ancient Russian game. Folk games Kiss, girl, well done
SILVER BELL. (Foreword by Stepan Teshipov, preceding the diaries of the debutants)*
DIARY OF MSTISLAV, Zalessk thief and buffoon, son of Lykovich, slave of Prince Vsevolod Vlastovsky *
DIARY OF APEXIOS, Prince of Vyshgrad *
DIARY OF DANILA, master-vognik from Morom *
DIARY OF MSTISLAV, faithful spouse of two divine masters, owner of a magic boot (continued) *
DIARY OF ALEXIOS, Prince of Vyshgrad, Oporyevsky and Zhirobregsky, Kaliki of the Traveler and Guardian of the Chain (continued)*
DIARY OF DANILA, the hero Kazarin, chosen from among the warriors, and lord of the iron crow (continued) *
CHRONICLE OF THE ZHIROBREG CONGRESS. (Afterword by Stepan Teshilov, temporarily acting pagan idol Trajan the Holder, which is a brief report of the Zhirobreg (Velikosikovsky) Congress)*
THANK YOU LIST of individuals and subjects in general, towards whom the authors of this collection of gaming sketches at different times and for various reasons felt gratitude *
SILVER BELL.
(Foreword by Stepan Teshilov,
preceding debutant diaries)
On a restless evening on the fifteenth of June 199... - at the beginning of the third year of the Second Republic and at the very end of the summer session of Moscow University - a yellow tram ran through the thick warm rain, without looking back at the intersections. The low sun of plague democracy was still young, and the trams knew how to be yellow, the rains were warm... And I knew how to be lonely and lazy. So lazy that he walked from the bus stop to the residential building through puddles, rails and steps without opening his umbrella. Honestly, warm rain.
I knew how to be lonely and that’s why I hated my student life: these evenings lost in the spread of a French book. I also morbidly disliked being the first to come home. “Home” the three of us then called a large room in the old building, where we had been living together for three years. Now I was approaching the door numbered "702" and knew that it was dark and empty inside. If the girl you love runs away from you, if you no longer have a profitable job in the evenings, if you don’t even have access to the Infernet network, you won’t be able to escape. You will be the first to enter a deserted room and place a cold kettle on the tile.
I didn’t start cooking the potatoes for a long time in the hope that someone would show up and help me peel off the skins. But Mstislavka appeared, of course, at the very moment when I took the boiled potatoes off the stove and poured sour cream on them to simmer in the pan. A loud kick on the door - and my neighbor M. Biserov entered, touching the surroundings with the hem of his white cloak, proudly stretching both hands forward, holding a bottle in each.
Hello, dear child! - they greeted me, and I smiled back. I don’t look like a kind child at all, but Biser is forgiven a lot because he is a good person. Today, too, he gently lowered the heavy glass objects onto the table and shook off his splashed cloak from his shoulders. Three years ago, in this invariably white cloak, he flew into the capital's life as into the dirtiest and most crowded Moscow tram. Everywhere, in the most murderous crowd, there was a place for him, and from everywhere he came out clean and fresh, like a child’s kiss. Domestic mud did not seem to stick to the snow fabric from Giulio Bersotti.
I repeat, I was glad to see him. Two half liters of Crystal - this is because the session ended today. Plus the treasured container of Beefeater in my nightstand - a carefully kept gift from a runaway lover. The beginning of the holidays is a great opportunity to let the genie out of the bottle.
I hope we have time to split your potatoes between two,” Mstislav said, approaching the pan. Hunger clearly showed in his gray eyes.
He hoped in vain. The lock crunched softly, and a man in black appeared on the threshold. Some people don't like people in black and are immediately scared. We, on the contrary, were delighted, because A. Startsev is an extremely bright person, although he wears only black. When Alexey talks to a teacher about serious things, he often gets confused, because he thinks equally well in Russian, English and Greek - and mixes multilingual words in one phrase. When he talks to us about frivolous things, on the contrary, he never gets confused, because he is always a little drunk. Like all history students, he drinks inexpensive but high-quality red wine and can be energetic and agile when drunk. The narrow face with deep, hard eyes behind the glasses of golden glasses becomes completely enlightened, and the look, in contrast, darkens and loses its ascetic coldness.
Na zhei khronia polla! - he expressed some Greek thought and waved his thin fingers in the air in greeting. Leaving the umbrella in the hallway, Alexis walked to his desk, grinning mysteriously. Opening the black briefcase that glittered with rain, he slowly pulled out a small magazine. He threw it on the table in the circle of yellow light falling from the lamp, turned around - and mysteriously flashed his glasses at me.
Let's go for a walk, gentlemen students! - Alexis snapped his fingers, and a bottle of champagne wine appeared in his other hand, snatched from under his jacket. Squinting his eyes mockingly for a moment, he immediately gave a solemn expression to his face. Mstislav winced, and I also understood that Startsev would make a speech.
Quousque tandem)
