Читать книгу Chords obscurantism. Volume one - Vasily Varga - Страница 18

Zinoviev, that is, Apfelbaum, had returned from Paris before his time, looking battered, battered, scratched, with a large bruise under his left eye, limping on his right leg, as if seeking help from someone. He must have been picked on somewhere along the way, because he liked to harass ladies accompanied by gentlemen, introduced himself unnecessarily, and immediately inquired the name of the lady.

Not always did this behavior get away with the impudent Jew, who liked to take the bull by the horns. This time he had the audacity to whisper in the lady’s ear that he was up to his knees. The lady, half in joy, half in terror, exclaimed, “George, help me out!”

Georges did not knock out the revolutionary himself; he merely nodded to the two guards who accompanied him.

The worst thing that happened was that Gershon wetted his underpants so profusely that trickles ran down his sandals, which threw him into an area of shame and discomfort. He had to take off his sandals, wring out his socks, and put them on his bare feet.

After passing two houses and seeing another couple: a short man in a straw hat, and a lady with painted lips, looked at him, and he read on her face: I want you, and immediately rushed to the diner, followed the couple, immediately ordered two glasses of tea and warmed up. The lady noticed his bare feet and immediately turned away with disdain. “Um, it didn’t work out,” he said aloud and ran to Lenin, whom he hadn’t seen for two weeks.

– What’s up, Gershon?” Why the black eye? the chief asked. – You must have been whipped by the bourgeoisie for preaching in the square when you called for a world revolution.

– At the barricades fought. At the heart of Paris. We were three Jews with sticks, and there were about two dozen of us. It’s a good thing they didn’t. We were saved by singing the Marseillaise. The Japanese understood from the melody that we were representatives of the proletariat. Volodya, but I had to wet my pants. They are still wet. Do you have any extra clothes?

– What isn’t, isn’t. I suffer myself. I only get new trousers twice a week, but I should have them every day. My trousers are always wet. I suffer from incontinence, leader of the world proletariat. If you want, my suit is in the trash, I just changed it. I hope my trousers are dry. Why are there no socks? You’re lying, Gershon, and you haven’t even blinked an eye, “Lenin advanced, squinting his left eye.

“What would you do without me?” – Gershon asked a provocative question.

“Gershon, don’t brag or lie. Probably hit someone and got it in the snout. The way to do it. Did you bring money? We are catastrophically short of money, and without money you can’t make a revolution.

– Our book was published in Paris, but it only contains your name, and we both worked harder than you. Gibberish, however, turned out, but it justifies the name “What to do”.

– You worked hard, I’m sure, but I was thinking. These are my thoughts in this great work, not yours. you haven’t grown up to be the leader of the world revolution. Let’s sit down, let’s make edits, remove inaccuracies, there are a lot of our assumptions, and life makes adjustments…