Translated material
Police Day
In the spring of next year, the Russian police will turn into a police. Writer Vladimir Adolfych Nesterenko, who has a difficult attitude to the law enforcement agencies, presented how the professional holiday of the reformable Ministry of Internal Affairs could look like.
Ober-Police-Master Zholdin, mayor of Suzuev, Mandrit, Archimandrite and Provierarchs arrived at the meeting of the assembly by a single column, in a timely manner. The hall was full - the invited distinguished lower ranks occupied the gallery, police officers with families settled down according to the rank, and only the ground was empty. The chief police officer proceeded in the first row, hierarchs began to sit down.
The curtain opened, and the rostrum was shone in front of the audience, decorated with a gold coat of arms with diamond eyes.
There was already some kind of person in civilian clothes on the rostrum and read from paper:
- Comrades! - the man said in the microphone. - Comrades!
Zholdin squeezed the whistle to the tooth cryst and whistled. Immediately responsible for holding the concert, a two-meter headquarters captain of languages, ran out onto the stage with a bare checker and took a civilian head from his shoulders with one blow.
The chief polytsector settled slowly, spat a whistle and climbed onto the stage. The illuminator accompanied the chief police chief with a spotlight, the orders and axelbants shone.
- Curl! -The chief policeman sequentially showed the cuckoo to the body of the civilian, Language, and then the entire hall and at the end to the illuminator. The illuminator replaced the dazzling white spotlight to the blood-red. - Curl! Comrades to himself, a bitch fucking, found.
Zholdin burst into a scarf with a gold monogram of H.Z. And, having served a second, while the non-commissioned officers dragged the civilian body by the culisy, took a place on the rostrum:
- Gentlemen! I inform you that the Police Day has been abolished from today. From now on and forever we will celebrate the Police Day! And in commemoration of this, exceptional powers were granted to me, but you have already seen, ”the chief police officer nodded his head to the side, where the body of the failed speaker was carried away. - So, who of those present in the hall has awards for serving in the police? Are there such?
The hall was silent. Not that the audience was frightened, but was confused, certainly.
- To get rid of trash, - three minutes. You can transmit by the rows,-the chief police chief nodded to Language, he disappeared and a moment later ran out with a huge pot of chuckle painted "under gold". - The light to extinguish - time has gone!
The illuminator directed the spotlight to the pan, nothing happened for a minute, the gentlemen officers unscrewed the orders - and then the stream rushed, the awards threw the awards at first, and then, as it was filled, they only blurted out.
- Time! Light! - ordered Zholdin, chandeliers flashed in the hall. - Instead of this garbage, I hope your uniforms will soon decorate new awards. What is it?! -The police chief pointed a finger at some elderly priest from the second row. The Order of the Badge of Honor was screwed to his cassock. - Here is him!
Two lower ranks picked up the priest, which, as it turned out, was drunk and brought to the stage. The polytsmaster approached the prison reddened with shame, tore off the order from him, tearing out a pretty piece of cassock, then, holding the order in a fist, hit the priest in the nose. Immediately the blood poured, the police chief with a handkerchief with a monogram erased her spray from the uniform.
- Get out of here! Yes, and tell your superiors that you, bitch, fucking goat! - The police chief turned away from the priest, who approached the Provierarch sitting with a good expression on the rounded face on a shaking -shaped legs. - So, gentlemen! The artists who are currently in the makeup of the Consider under guard still do not know that the police are no longer there. Therefore, we have an unusual concert, we can say - epochal. This will never happen again - this is the first day of the police and the last - police. So, gentlemen, officers, we will be tolerant - let each artist fulfill his number, and we will finish the decision - how to punish him for this. Gentlemen officers !!! -raised the voice of the chief police officer.
The hall jumped up and froze at the counter.
- Congratulations on the day of the police!
- Hooray! Hooray! Hooray! - Through the thumbs in the meeting room.
- With God! - Zholdin took his place in the front row. - Start!
The singer Rezon was the first to enter the stage. Strealized, in a suit, in a wig - a face familiar to everyone from childhood, familiar to nausea. Rezon bowed and sang "Our service is both dangerous and difficult ...".
- Stop! - came from the first row. Music subsided.
- This scum has been in touch between criminals and corrupt officials for many years. Yes, and the Jew is to the same. Languages! -The chief police officer, who sipped from the golden flask of Archimandrite, was excited and forgot about the words he said recently “we will be tolerant”.
Languages instantly, long workouts affected, threw a bag on his head and without any difficulty, like a child, threw the artist to the floor.
“Well, we will show him what“ cattle are in a bag, ”” Zhermaster Zholdin shook his hand several times, as if shaking or shaking something.
The lower rank subordinates to Language, awaiting behind the curtains, with rubber sticks ready, began to beat the singer, as if wanting to knock out of it all the centuries -old dust of wandering.
-Well, put someone's wife to declare numbers! -Ober-Polismaster stood up and looked around the hall. - Here you are! This one! You, here, run, quickly!
The youthful lady in a leopard dress, with an outstanding hairstyle like a cock tail, went on stage. Languages handed her a list and a microphone.
“And now the laureate and singer Sergei Risanstuzer will perform,” the hall began to applaud until the Risanstuztuzer, a tall bald man in an embroidered golden suit, resembling some kind of church vestment, only fitted, will not enter the stage.
«Хо-о-о-о-сто-о-о-о...» — затянул, подвывая певец, и зал сразу стал ему подпевать, с галерки даже кто-то присвистнул в одном месте припева, видно было, что песню знают и любят.
After the performance, Zholdin with a gesture asked the microphone:
- Here, admire, gentlemen, on this one. Cossack, undoubtedly Cossack! - the hall burst out laughing. - Chervonny Cossack. And what was customary to do with our Cossacks like you like you, huh?! - The police chief directly turned to the singer.
He still smiled, but the terrible grimace guessed his face.
- The epaulettes were cut out on the shoulders! Home! - The police chief gave the microphone to Mandrit and snapped his fingers, he handed him a flask. - And we do not cut the epaulettes, we, you, you will cut out the star.
The Rizpenstuztuzer abruptly jumped, but his ubiquitous tongues were already standing behind him, throwing the singer around his neck, he tightened it and lowered the half -tired singer on the stage.
- Well, gentlemen, who will cut the star? Are there any volunteers? - turned to the hall Zholdin. All men in the hall jumped up from their places and took a drill stance. - That's how. That's what the police mean! This is not for you, ”the police chief again sipped from the flask of Mandrit. - Seventh row sixth place - on the stage!
A middle -aged colonel with a lonely badge of the Suvorov school ran out onto the stage, hit the Risanser on the head of the toe of the boot and, taking the saber of Language, began to cut out a star on the bald head of the singer’s unconscious.
- Well, what did you cut there? Show! - The police chief looked at the bloodied head of a recently such a respectable and imposing singer.
- You, Polkan, are you an idiot?
“Not at all, Mr. Major General,” the colonel accepted the drill stance.
- Five -pointed stars cut them! And they are octopus to us! What did you cut?
“It’s guilty, Mr. Major General!” -The colonel was scared in earnest, and his red face became gray-pink, like a cut of boiled sausage.
- It is to blame - it means that I went out! And take your own, nothing here! To blame! A fool is to blame once! -Under the hooting of the hall, the colonel, hunched over and became some kind of miserable, miserable pensioner in just twenty steps, left the hall. His wife and two schoolboy daughters ran out behind him.
“Mahmud Samoseev, Alena Shurapp - a humorous sketch,” the lady in a leopard dress read from the sheet. Applause broke out in the hall.
...
Well, here is the last number,-the chief police officer, who was pretty attached to the second flask of Archimandritovka, pecked with his nose. - The concert is over, gentlemen! Gentlemen officers!
The hall jumped up and froze.
- The concert is over! Everyone is free! Dry, fuck your mother!
The officers with their families hurried to the exit, the priests with the clerks, standing facing the hall, finely baptized the backs of the departing. The corpse of the last dancer was carried away by the curtains. I squatted languages on the stage of a sleeve.
- And yet! And yet,-the chief police officer roared, but there was no one to serve him ...
Illustrations: Andrey Noskov, Vladislav Gorin