Читать книгу Stories from Lyubavino. Chronicle of an extraordinary Incident - - Страница 6

Meanwhile, it was Friday morning. In an apartment of a modest five-story building nearby, an intriguing series of events was beginning to unfold – a cycle so tragically comical and absurdly farcical that it could make even the most hardened cynic question the laws of the universe.

But as we all know, reality is what happens to us while we’re making other plans. And it must be said that reality’s plans for Nikolai Vladimirovich that weekend were truly grandiose.

And it all started with a Gogolesque prank. In fact, it was too Gogolesque.

On this fateful Friday, Nikolai Vladimirovich – a young man who seemed the picture of balance, with a good job, an exemplary family man, and the father of two charming children of the same age (a walking monument to domestic bliss, straight out of a mortgage advertisement) – instead of gently waking his wife with kisses, felt an irresistible urge…

No, not to work hard, but to crawl to his wife’s side of the bed. Yes, to that sacred territory of the marital bed where mere mortals are strictly and categorically forbidden to tread!

Why? A question worthy of Shakespeare’s pen! Perhaps it was retrograde Mercury, or perhaps simply a man’s desire for change. In any case, his wife’s spot seemed an oasis of comfort and coziness at that moment. He was determined to move there at all costs, eager to spend his precious morning hours in bliss.

With the tact of a bulldozer but the softness of a cat, Nikolai Vladimirovich carefully (yet persistently!) nudged his wife over and sprawled out on the conquered territory with the triumph of Napoleon entering a subdued Moscow. With relish, he inhaled the delicate scent of perfume and cosmetics emanating from her pillow.

His wife’s place, we must note, was on the side of the bedroom door.

Nikolai Vladimirovich was in a state of complete bliss! Vacation! No work! His wife – right there, next to him! The kids – somewhere around the house!

What more did this slightly portly cupid need for happiness?

Anna Vasilievna, his spouse – a pretty woman of about thirty, with a great sense of humor and a love of playing jokes on her beloved husband – was also enjoying the long-awaited vacation. Awakened by her husband’s maneuvering, she lay quietly beside him, buried in her phone, unsuccessfully trying to find a signal.

At that moment, the head of the family was blissfully lost in the deep embrace of Morpheus on his trophy pillow, sleeping, as they say, “without his hind legs” – that is, dead to the world. His excessively hairy feet, by the way, were sticking out from under the blanket with utter disregard for decorum.

And then his little daughter, Lyolya – an angelic sunbeam of a girl with pigtails, four years old – padded into her parents’ bedroom as usual, rubbing her sleepy eyes with a little pink fist, and suddenly froze in the doorway.

In her mama’s place – the most beautiful mama in the world – rested… hairy legs!

Lyolya’s eyes, usually the size of decent cherries, widened to the size of respectable saucers. A complex thought process was clearly taking place in her childish mind.

“Mama, wow, you have such hairy legs!” gasped the child, clearly impressed by this unexpected discovery.

“Want to give them a pull?” her mother whispered mischievously, with a sly smile.

Lyolya was intrigued by the offer…

“Don’t worry, just give a tug, that’s all…” her kind mother encouraged.

“But it’s going to hurt you!” the girl objected. “Don’t you worry about that…” Mom replied with a mischievous smile and froze in curious anticipation.

And Lyolya, clinging with her little hands, pulled with all her might…

Nikolai Vladimirovich, who had not expected such a trick from his family, let out a sound rivaling the death throes of a castrated cat. Startled awake by his own scream, he catapulted out of bed with bulging eyes, as if he had just lost something very important.

After performing a complex acrobatic maneuver in the air, he crashed to the floor with a thud and attempted to jump up, but instead slammed into the bedside table and knocked over the lamp.

In an attempt to grab his injured head, Nikolai Vladimirovich slammed his elbow into the glass pane of the door with all his might. The glass seemed to have been waiting for this moment! With a joyful tinkle, it shattered on the floor…

Thus began the enchanting epic of replacing the banal frosted glass in an ordinary interior door, an epic that lasted several unforgettable weeks. But that is a different story, dear reader, which we will gladly tell you another time.