Читать книгу Crazy Detective. Funny detective - StaVl Zosimov Premudroslovsky - Страница 2

Apulase FIRST

Hello!

Immediately move on to the description of the main participants in the events proposed by me in this section of cases.

The first on the list is Major General Ottila Aligadzhievich Klop. Of all those around him, he was not standard growth – ninety-nine and nine centimeters.

You ask: “But how was he admitted to the ranks of the guardians of order, after all, after one and a half meters they will not be taken into the army, and without the army they will not be taken into guardians …". But he is – a special case: His parents were, rather, his mother and her grandfather, who served him instead of his father, ordinary citizens of the Russian Federation with primordially Jewish roots. It’s just that his mother, once in the last millennium, when the world had not used computers everywhere and the Great Soviet Union, voluntarily joined the ranks of medical orderlies of internationals, whose duty was to clean up after the patients were emptied with a solitaire. And this happened in some African country and the ancient tribes of the Central African pygmies turned out to be sick, one of which, or rather the leader himself, is the Great Elder, a hundred and twenty thousand years of his calendar is old, and since his peers grunted (died) long ago, therefore, those who remembered his birth were not, and he was able to claim that his mother is the Sun, and his father is the Moon, etc. etc… Of course, the future mother of Ottila did not believe in this fairy tale, but she didn’t offend, she just smiled and nodded to the Great Old-Timer of all the Men of the Earth. After she, having received the leader’s treats, they were deliciously tempting exotic: fried bison eyes in garlic sauce, smoked eggs of an elephant with chocolate salmon, fresh blood borscht of a paramedic Ivan Kozimovich Pupkin, who had suddenly disappeared on the eve, and the juice of Koki fruits on the third… In general, the pregnant mother woke up and then her life was no longer of particular interest.

And according to the legislation of the Pygmy tribe, the average height of a soldier and guardian of the order was at least eighty centimeters and no more than one meter five and a half centimeters, of course, he was therefore taken to their police and sent with the exchange of experience to Russia. So he remained in the service: he received permanent residence, like any guest worker, and since he was a citizen of the Russian Federation concurrently, no one could deport him. In short, everything is possible in our country, especially for money. But he had to go through military training with his father in the tribe and fill up the elephant on the exam. This was stated in the document presented at the place of demand, which was gouged out on Ottila’s belly and approved by UNESCO. Of course, another document was attached to it, although unofficially, it looked like a hundred bucks.

And even more so in the main document it was indicated that he served in the rank of army general of the north-south division of the tribe called Nakatika Ui Buka. Of course, this title was awarded to him because of his father for life, especially since their tribe was listed in the UN forces.

Young Ottila gained the following experience in the service of the tribe, more precisely, passed the exams on: archery, throwing a tomahawk, and climbing lessons on the trunks, which allowed him to climb, both on level verticals and with pimples. He could also throw both legs over his own or others’ ears and, holding on the floor on both hands, could dance a tap dance, do a triple somersault up, sideways, forward, backward, and without touching the floor. He learned to tame cats, dogs and other biting and devouring animals, including mosquitoes, bedbugs, lice and grizzly bears.

After Ottila was sent at his own request and due to his mother’s illness, he was sent to the Ministry of Internal Affairs as a clerk – adjutant of Marshall, whom he had never seen in his eyes, but only heard his voice on the radio and a special telephone. After thirty-two years of age, he was transferred to the village of Sokolov Ruchey, Leningrad Region, and in St. Petersburg, the Lyuban railway, due to cuts in the administrative apparatus.

They allocated him a hut, a former vocational school. The first half of the hut occupied the premises for housing, and the second was intended as a strong point.

And then Ottila Aligadzhievich sits in her office and writes a quarterly, and then immediately, annual report. He is in a hurry, makes mistakes, confuses words in languages, and he knew a dozen of them, including: French, native tribal, five different Soviet languages, Latin, Russian spoken, Russian literature, Russian fenya, Russian homeless, interrogator language and others.

He writes, writes, and then the son of ten years comes to his office:

– Father? – modestly childish asked the one hundred thirty centimeter ten-year-old son Izya.

– What, son? – without raising his head, answered the ninety-nine centimeter father of Ottil.

– Dad..? – Izya hesitated. Father was still writing.

– … well, speak?! asked the father.

– Dad, I looked at the box here, huh?!

– So what?

– Some words are not clear to me there…

Ottila looked at her son in a fatherly way, without lowering his head, picked up his legs on a special chair with stair rails on the side legs, got up, turned and sat down on the table. He affectionately looked down at his son through the glasses, let them down on the tip of his nose and asked, looking into his son’s eyes and not lifting his head, which made his head hurt and his neck was numb.

He looked at everyone from the bottom up. It also infringed on his civic position. And even more so in front of a son who grew up like an ordinary kid. And now, sitting on the table, he could even frown on his black eyebrows.

– And what words do not understand you, son?

– Well..: President, some Power, FSB.. what is it? We have not yet gone through history. Is that so, fleetingly.

– Or are you just a procuratorial school during this period of study. – the father smiled, took off his glasses and clamped them lightly into a fist, which he then leaned on the table top. He slapped his son on the shoulder with his other hand and rubbed him with a huge bald head, which was not humanly human.

– Well, listen, – the father sighed, – the President in our family is me, some Power is your mother. Well, she, you know what he’s doing… Doesn’t allow to indulge, checks lessons.

“Feeds,” added Izya.

– Does not feed, but prepares food. – added the father.

– And then who feeds?

Father peered into his narrow-eyed grandfather’s left eye, then into the wide-eyed right, which went to his son from his great-grandmother, they say she was Chinese, but only Russified. So claimed his wife; height, weight and width of the waist in two hundred. The blond-haired and blue-eyed besides, unlike the red-eyed father.

– I feed you all! – proudly in an undertone father replied and bulged out his chest. His face became high-wise.

– And who is grandmother? – asked the son, picking his nose.

– Do not pick your nose, son, today is not a miner’s day, – and he gently removed his hand from his son’s head, -.. our grandmother is the KGB. Old native KGB.

– And what is the KGB? – Sonny worried.

The father released his son’s hand and, looking away from his son, stared like a ram at the new gate, at the portrait of Dzerzhinsky.

– The KGB is the same as the FSB. Only old as a grandmother. And fair, not like now, everything is corrupt… In general, grandmother is the FSB…

– The KGB … – the son corrected and, having rolled up a saber of dry snot in the depths of the nostrils, pulled out, looked at him and, biting his fangs, spat out, wrinkling his nose. – phew.., salty.

– DO NOT eat the roe that your mother does not feed you?! – the father was indignant.

– No, you feed.

– I make money on feed. And mother cooks and feeds from what I have earned. Got it?

– Accepted, understood, reception…

– Well done, your father, and you …?

The son stood up at the SMIRNO counter, as the priest had drilled him.

– Well done in the stable are, but I Well done.!!..

– .. Asshole… heh heh heh… Salaga. – Otila slapped the back of the head gently to her son, but Izya dodged and delivered a counterattack straight to the dime (nose) of his father, as he taught.

– Uh.. – Ottila cheered up, hiding the pain, his hand only twitched, and his eyes shed tears, – Well, so, is mother feeding you or not?

– Feeds. Deliciously feeds … – the son began to pick in his left ear … – And then my sister and who?

– And you and my sister?.. And you are PEOPLE! – the father smiled and put on his glasses, went down from the table to a chair and proceeded to write further, kneeling down so that it was higher.

– And what does it mean then to our AUTHORITY, that week… this… another President came …, American, the KGB is sleeping, and the people are worried?

– What else is such a president? – Daddy’s eyes popped out from under the glasses.

– And the one that closes with the Power in the room when you sit in the toilet for three hours,..

– And then what?

– .. then, they laugh and gasp, like cats in March on the streets at night, then even squeal like piglets when they are neutered. And come out – as after a bath – wet.

– And where am I at this time? – the father shook.

– And you still sit in the toilet for an hour.., and then, as always, yelling: “bring the paper!!!”.

– Here, piss!!. – escaped from the grin of teeth of General Klop.

– And what is a “bitch”?

– Don’t you dare say that anymore. Good?

– Understood, accepted, Amen. – I got up again, in the Izza counter.

– You have a combat mission, to find out who this second President is.

– Already found out. This is your subordinate – Intsefalopath Arutun Karapetovich.

– This old man? He is thirty years older than her, and forty-three older than me. Hey… this is a fool, is he a relative?! – Klop pinned up and began to write further.

– Ha ha ha ha!!!! – After a little while, my father suddenly exploded and almost burst out of his chair. That’s how he laughed, that even a censored word can not be explained, only obscenities. But he held onto the shoulder of his son. – Oh, ha ha, okay, go, I have to work, and this other president has chicken eggs in their pockets and shoes that are in the refrigerator.

– Hee-hee, – Izya grinned silently, – and maybe a cactus?

– What you want…

The son was delighted and fled to the first half of the hut.

The second protagonist and first assistant of the district police officer, Corporal Intsefalopat Arutun Karapetovich, a former gastorbwriter, got a job in middle-aged retirement, solely because of Ottila’s wife, Isolda Fifovna Klop-Poryvaylo. He was three times taller than his boss and five times thinner than his boss’s wife. The nose is hunchbacked, like an eagle and a mustache, like Budenny or Barmaley. In general, the real son of the mountains, who at the beginning of Perestroika, going down for salt, stumbled and guessed in a gorge, right in a freight car open without roof, with coal from the Tbilisi-SPb freight train. At the station, Lyuban woke up and jumped. He worked here and there until he met the district policeman’s wife while drinking. She recommended him as a cousin from the Caucasus.

Having finished work, Ottila Aligadzhievich Klop, as always, took a photo portrait on the table with the image of the incumbent President, breathed on it, wiped it on his sleeve, kissed the forehead on the crown of the head and put it back in its right place on the right corner of the table, resting it on a pencil case with pens, rubber, pencils, and a pack of chopped free advertising newspapers for personal hygiene. He hated toilet paper. It is thin and a finger is constantly pierced through it at the most crucial moment and then you have to shake it off. And shaking it in a narrow space, there is a chance of a finger hitting a wooden block of the inner corner of a Soviet-style street toilet and feeling pain, instinct made the sick finger moisten with warm saliva, instead feeling the taste of his feces, which he wore for 24 hours, putting the restroom out for later.

To wipe sweat from his forehead, armpits, arms, legs and under the eggs, where he sweated exceptionally hard, he used a bath waffle towel. You ask: why not a rag? The answer is simple: the towel is large and lasts for a long time.

It was too late, and the family was already breathing long ago. Ottila, entering the residential part of the hut, quietly went into the kitchen, took a five-liter can of moonshine from the refrigerator. Confiscated from a local huckster. He pressed it to the belly, just took a saucer, in which lay a piece of herring, bitten by one of the household. Or maybe this old goat, Intsephalopath, who had not brushed his teeth all his life and had simply bitten his jaw with caries.

“That’s why I had caries,” Klopa dawned, “he kissed Isolde, Isolde Izyu, and Izya constantly kisses my lips for fives and fours brought from school once or twice a year. This is not pedophilism, one or two … – But Incephalopath’s teeth were mostly black, hemp and the roots were constantly bleeding, but Harutun did not feel pain at all. This defect in the DNA did not harm him at all, but rather even successfully helped in the investigation.

Ottila wrinkled and wanted to put the plate back in place, but squinting at the jar, he decided not to disdain. Moonshine disinfects everything. So he changed his mind and went to the table. There was a small TV in the kitchen, and he turned it on along the way. Also along the way, I went to the gas stove and opened the pan lid, standing on tiptoe. The aroma, exhausted from it, simply intoxicated Ottila and he immediately wanted to eat one. He took in the cupboard: a plate, tabletop, pepper shaker, knife, bread, mayonnaise, sour cream, kefir, airan, koumiss, ketchup, bay leaf, a mug, two spoons: large and small, and, struggling to catch his balance, he went to the table, got up and got tired: both hands were through, too much overloaded and even had to use elbows. Everything dialed slowly swayed. Ottila tried to push the plate on the table with his nose, but the table was higher, and his elbows began to swell. Ottila puffed up and laid everything on a chair.

Then he fussed about and, pushing the chair so that you could see the TV, standing by the chair, which is currently being re-qualified as an acting table, standing, poured one hundred and fifty grams of moonshine into the stopar and exhaled deeply, filled it all at once with one swig and accompanied it with a loud sound gurgling. He grimaced like an old lemon, without hesitation, grabbed a piece of the nibbled herring with his whole five and nibbled half along with the bones. Bones dug into his palate and tongue. He froze, but then he remembered his father’s yoga and forgot the pain, as grandmothers or children forget the keys and other trifles. Next in line was soup. The soup consisted of the following indigents: peas, sauerkraut, potatoes, fried onions with carrots on tomato paste, soft wheat horns, semolina, a mixed chicken egg with a caught piece of the shell, a fingernail, the size of an adult, and seasoned with one piece of bone from meat with veins into the pan floor. The meat, apparently, was eaten before, on the principle: “in a large family… don’t click.” In sucking already swollen soup and looked more like horseflies, Ottila nibbled on the bone and lived, while carefully absorbing the news. The next issue of the Call Center was on the TV screen:

– And the most interesting thing, “the announcer continued,” … one teacher from Irkutsk was a fan of Nikolai Vasilyevich Gogol and simply idolized his work, especially the work “NOS”. All my life I saved up money for a trip to Leningrad (now St. Petersburg), where a monument-sign was installed with a long nose on a copper sheet, similar to Gogolevsky. But Perestroika interrupted all plans; she invested all her savings in OJSC MMM and, like millions of depositors, was left with a donut hole. Having warmed up and suffered an extensive Myocardial infarction, she again began to save money for a trip to St. Petersburg and even in secret, disguised herself, collected empty bottles and cans at night in garbage barrels and along sidewalks. And now the long-awaited dream came true in ten years. She came to the capital city the hero of St. Petersburg. And, having found out in the inquiry office where the sought-after and long-awaited monument is located, she rushed with things on public transport with three transfers, why with transfers? It’s just that Moskvichka was sitting in the information desk, and Muscovites, unlike Pitertsev, loves to send the other way, like this time. Having reached five hours after the long-awaited place, she looked around and, finding nothing similar, decided to ask the nearby patrol officers who vigilantly looked out at the migrant migrant workers who were going to rip off the grandmothers from them:

“Dear ones,” she called them, one of them responded and turned to her, “can you tell me where the monument to Gogol’s NOS is located?”

– And here, – the employee twisted his head, – somewhere here. – and pointed to the bare wall and ofanarel: from the plaque there were only holes on the wall and an unstained stencil, the size of a stolen plate with a convex human nose. Granny died immediately due to a heart attack disorder. On this our transfer came to an end.

All the best.

Ottila drank another glass and went to sleep. In the darkness by the bed he undressed and climbed to overcome the side of his wife, who was snoring in a choke. She didn’t even move. When he climbed over his wife and was between the wall and his wife, he was stunned by snoring and the wind from the lips of the lovely half. Ottila took a deep breath of air and raised his upper chest, a little larger than his head, stuck his head in the back of his head to his wife’s sleepy plexus. He laid his ear on the lower one and covered the upper ear with his upper chest. The snoring disappeared, and he dozed off like a baby, in warmth and comfort.

In the morning he woke up curled up on a pillow. There was no wife. He went to the washstand and, having washed himself, dressed up in full dress. He went to the door of the entrance to the Strongpoint, took the handle, and… The door opened from him in this situation and jerked, at the moment he pressed the door handle, dragging Ottila into the space of the Strongpoint, as if without a weighty air creature. He flew in and crashed into Mount Wife. The belly with breasts cushioned and threw the precinct back.

– What are you? Izoldushka!? – He asked in surprise on the fly and after that he felt pain on the back of his head, hitting the floor.

– Wipe your feet, I washed there. she barked and continued to mop the floor, bending in the lower back, back to him. The policeman went around her ass, wiped his legs, shod slippers with rabbit ears, and entered the office. The first thing he did, climbed into a chair, then walked to the phone on the table and pulled him to his edge. He picked up the phone, sat on the edge of the table and put it on his ear. He dialed the phone of his boss and, shaking his legs, waited, counting the beeps.

– Ullah! – heard on the other side of the wire after the fiftieth tone.

– Comrade Marshal? This is calling Mr. District General Klop.

– Ahhhh… is that you? – Comrade Marshall was displeased, – how are things in a new place? You didn’t call for a long time, you began to forget who e… uh… um, feeds you.

– No, what are you, Eximendius Janis oglu Snegiryov. There was simply no reason to disturb your elderly head off in vain.

– Baska, you say, a dwarf?

– Uh… no, sorry, head off.

– Okay, let’s figure it out later, about the ethics of subordinates and owners. Well, what have you got, something important?

– Yes!!!

– What are you yelling, pygmy is not Russian?

– Sorry, yeah.

– Okay, we’ll also talk about the limits of the sound acceptable rate of telephone conversation, adopted in the first reading of the legislative assembly of Moscow and Russia.. And so, what about you, Sneak Bug? And come on fast, I’m late for the meeting.

– Did you watch last night the next issue of the Call Center?

– No, I have a DiViDishka. And what?

– In St. Petersburg, a monument was stolen to the Nose.

– So what?

– I would like to investigate this case, if you will allow me, O Hon. Mr. Marshall.

– What else nose, no one has reported to me, speak more clearly. Which monument had their nose cut off?

– Well, with Gogol..

– Gogol’s nose cut off?

– No, Gogol has a story about FNL.

– So what?

– In honor of this story, a memorial plaque was erected in St. Petersburg and it was stolen. And I know roughly who did it.

– Homeless or what? No one else. He’s copper. And what do you want from me?

– Tackle this business, cartridge.

– So get busy, what’s the matter? But only in your free time.

– But I will need expenses, travel expenses, meals, hotel accommodation, taxi rides.

– M-yes. It was necessary to begin with this. That’s just to get to St. Petersburg, you can also take the hare by train, the Bomzhovskoe affair, so the hotel has nothing to do with it. You can change it at the station or, at worst, at the homeless in the basement. With them you will devour. And in the city and on foot you can walk along with the sights of St. Petersburg. There is no money in the budget until I finish building the cottage. Well, do you understand me?

– And from the cash desk of my Strongpoint? I picked a little here on fines from collective farmers.

– And more?

– Yes, that’s enough for the first time.

– Okay. Take it from the account. If you solve the problem, I will repay the costs of sales receipts, but no?! It’s not for me to decide, because the money is public.

– Good, Eximendius Janis oglu Snegiryov. Of course, I have little time, but I will come up with something. – Ottila put down the phone and lay contented on the table, arms extended.

– Here it is, a new business! Now they will find out about me at Petrovka 38.

The door creaked, and the immense dimensions of Isolde Fifovna, his main half, appeared.

– Will you eat? – she asked meekly, – and don’t wallow on the table, I also wiped it.

– I will have breakfast here!

– What does it mean HERE? Am I like a waitress or something? Go to the kitchen and eat like everyone else. I will not carry.

– I would love to, but Marshall should call me.

– Marshal? I would say so. So, wait. The son will bring now what is left. And get off the table, Sherlock Holmes… Hahaha … – she laughed and went into the second half of the hut.

The front street door creaked, and Corporal Incephalopath appeared in the doorway.

– Can I have a cartridge?

– Come in and sit down… We have a business… Tomorrow we are going to St. Petersburg. – Ottila got up, turned and sat in a chair.

– What for?

– The stolen monument to the nose of Gogol seek.

– Aaaaa … – The encephalopath entered and sat down in a chair for subordinates and visitors, having thrown a foot on a foot. – I keep in mind, Bos…