Vladimir Sorokin. Telluria

· XIII ·

The naked Doroteta Charlottenburg, the thirty-seven-year-old Dowager Queen of her restless kingdom, nee Princess Schleswig-Holstein, Duchess of Grunvald, Landographic Feldafing and Darmstadt, Princess Mletskaya, chasing me along the Palace Anfiland poured by the moon.

Having rolled out of the royal bedroom, I dissect the night air, smelling of parquet mastic, fireplaces, hemp and rotten furniture. Frinking: toilet room, audience office, a green office with low couchs, on the lemon silk of which we love to play Tepel-Tapel ...

- Bleib 'Stehen, du, Scheißkugel!

Already Scheißkugel ... Half an hour ago was Meine Devitschja Igruschetchka . BAC! She beats a butterfly on a grand scale. By! I get a zigzag. The net spans behind, like a brisent bomb. The queen is heavy. Slap! Slap! Slap! This is already a carpet bombing. Active protective measures are required. The turn to the left, vase, ottomank, column, harpsichord. Thick feet are hard, elephant, elephant, span, it is hot, lion, lion, breathing. Breden! Vase. Rolled, did not break. Boom! The harbor cover, doused with the moon: ringing, ringing, fuck, fuck, fear, fear. Bach? Bach? Bach? Handel !!

I put it from the last. And there is still strength after this crazy night! A miracle, a miracle.
Batz, bam!
Door jamb.
I go around, puffing.
I fly to the oval hall.

Spacious. Window. Moon. I’m starting, I’m swinging habitually in chess marble. Mein Gott, how many living parties we played on it in these two years! And I invariably stood a black horse B8. Braelutian horse , as the bastard of Dylda-2 is saying, when I disagree on the Marshall's counterattack in the Spaniard ...

And behind the ivory of marble the queen:

- Halt! Halt, Miststückchen!

I glue. I slip into the tapestry room. To wrap up in one of them, away from this fury, to lie down and fall asleep in a deep sleep. Dick on the snout, crooked Russian ...

And, like all crookedly, it invariably brings me on turns. Yob-s! This is already me - with my head in the gilded leg of the table. Sparks, sparks, sparkles. Legs, legs with a peeling gilding. Beautiful legs. Tokmo horns remained from you ...

I wilting between the legs, a groan.

- Nun, komm 'Schon, durasschjok !

The queen stomps knife. Vases tremble in horror. I hear how the juice falls on the parquet drops. That's the truth - Vagina Avida.

- Ach, du Kleine sau!

The queen is furious.

Pulling into the red cabinet, I hear with my back, she sees her net by the gauze tip and begins to scatter hard, as for a jump with a sixth.

- Haaaaaaaalt !!

The breast voice of Dorothea spreads the night palace. Bass, bass. Roar, roar. Echo vases Chinese are buzzing. Jericho vaginal. And then in the distance, from the abandoned bedroom - sorry, weak:

- Dorothea, FeinSliebchen, Wo Bist du Denn?

The insignificance is limp, be zmudddddovoye , heartless, brown ... About grief to me, I will bind in the carpet like a post -war bug. Damned Turkish carpets! Cheaply vile! Persian and Chinese have long been stolen by court bastard.

She overtakes me on the threshold of the porcelain room. The whistle of the handle, the blow. I fly into the fireplace. Ash. Ashes to ashes?

- Apchi! - It's me.

I jump out of the fireplace mouth, with horror noting how the huge she, swinging the chests of breasts and raising the task and raising the task, waves a net, like a bat for golf. And in Golf the queen plays excellently. Her abundant shoulders shine with sweat, the moon sparkles in disheveled hair.

-Shi-and-and-and-and-t!
By.
I rush between the VAZ.
-Shi-and-and-and-and-t!
BAC!
Vase to smithereens.

I jump on a porcelain dragon, then - higher, on a parrot, on a basilisk, on a hotay, on ... bam!

She knocks me down like a spring woodcock in Grunvald. Smoking in the dark air, I fly down. Right in her sweaty palms.

The puffing face of the Queen Dorothea leans over me.

- Pass Auf du, Kleiner Russkij Zwolatsch , Das Hast du Dir Selbst Eingebrockt!

Curtain.
The end of the end.
The end of the end.
The end of the end.

Sooner or later - everything went to this. Alas. The late eunuch Harlampius used to say: the longest and longest, but the most intelligent and winding of you will not be suffered. The old man turned out to be right ... Yes, I'm smart. This was recognized even by shorty-3. I am a living and winding . I am moving and dynamic. I dance a juicy samba and slippery lambada, I get back with a dervish sexy desert, I twist the hulahup with all five vaginal rings. I am UPRIA. If my body is pulled on a five -fingers -free body, the arrow will fly out the window of the royal bedroom, whistle over the rosaria and fall into the green labyrinth of the palace garden. And our holes lead her envious glances of their street eyes. If you delay me and let me go, I can knock out the last brains from the next queen's lover. For example, the current one. Konrad Kroyzberg! How menacingly sounds ... and what insignificance is covered by this loud name. "The one who freed Neukeln from the Salafi barbarians!" And grateful Turks kissed their hands to the liberator ... As always in recent history, the laurels go to the mediocrity. Picture with oil, juicy court painting: "Queen of Dorothea Charlottenburg sodomes Kroyzberg Conrad." And this jerking politely groans into the pillow. Neukeln freed the Chinese winged battalion, even Dylda-8 knows this. Conrad Kroyzberg, as it should be a coward, scoring a telluring nail into a cribimum, drove there with a detachment of Kreutsberg marauders in his two -story bityuga, when not only the corpses of the Salafites, but also the ruins were removed. He rode the Karl-Marx Strasse, and Turkish women threw roses under the hooves of his Beowulf. Hero! Although I fell out of the process and ran away from moral considerations at all: I, like all members of the royal harem, do not care someone to sodom - a coward or a hero, a killer or righteous. Job. Just ... there are limits. Limit. Maybe I'm just tired. Not physically, not physically ... Depression? Maybe. Sincere Troubles? Perhaps. The complexity of character? Yeah! How dangerous it is for a long time to stay in favorites. It is even more dangerous to read many books. I am a person. This is said. There are things in yourself , which are difficult to explain to yourself. Especially when you hang in a penalty cell at night ...

The harem is sleeping. Or better: sleeps harem without knowing sorrow ...

From the cage, our specific community is clearly visible. Thirty -two beds for thirty -two mines. Five of which are empty: mine, Dylds-7, Dylds-4, Tolstoy-2 and ... God forbid ... shorty-4. So the queen makes up for my demarche. But it will be difficult for her to replace me.

The harem is sleeping. Fatty men snore, sniffs, whistle the holes, and our brother Kolovrat indulges in Morpheus silently. We, crookedly, are six. And all, I must admit, quite worthy individuals, each with their whims. The curve-1 loves to wash for a long time, but is rarely washed. Curve-2 does not tolerate coconut oil. Krivoy-5 is panicky afraid of a deep sip. Curve-4-palace mice. And I ... I fear a lot. Fears, fears. They form a real intellectual. So the Bzdelovat Skate has its own reason. And I am not-west of Marshall's counterattack. Better tractomatic karo - Cannes or rotten pier - Ufimtsev than this black longing on the board. In general, crookedly are similar to chess or sea skates, this is an axiom. And fears ... who does not have them, Verdammt Noch Mal?

The fat man laughs in a dream. Happy ... In general, our fat men are all like a selection of solid hedonists-sanguinees. Maybe because they, unlike us, are not circumcised. They stretch their hood, like the Franciscans, and sleep. They are used infrequently. They feed and have a dump. Walking in the fresh air, dynamic games, bathing ... How can I not laugh in a dream? Here is Dylda-1, for example, in a dream it often cries. And he is not alone. In the first months I myself often woke up in tears. For some reason, I often dreamed of a greenhouse in Sheremetyev’s palace, palm trees, succulents, butterflies and beetles, with which I quickly found a common language. The Mahaoons willingly sat on my lilac head, took possession of the wings. I can not only speak insects, but also sing. These songs, however, are not everyone in the harem. They threatened: we, Krivoy-6, slam you like a mosquito, if you itch. In general, collective life is hell. But loneliness is not paradise, that's for sure. As you imagine yourself sleeping in a casket and under a bed of a Turkish widow or in a suitcase of a fair-skinned widower wandering around the world, scribbling his graphomaniac confession at night ... Gespes.

Someone farted. More. And again. Hmmm ... Now, probably, two nights. It would be nice to get enough sleep in front of tomorrow's head , and a dream something does not climb into my head. Sleeping, admitted that I am not very foul here at all. The point is not in nightmares, not in the classical terrible dream for us, described by one English psychiatrist in the well -known monograph "A Magacastastation Complex in Transgene Fallic organisms." No, black vagina -s -zubami , thank God, does not knock on my dreams. But insomnia, harem, tight bodies ... Early waking up - my scourge is already like six months.

At night, from here, on top, our bedroom has the appearance of a frenzied tree. Udes are sleeping, putting lilac heads on the pillows. It was as if there were no night disputes, fights and brawls. It was as if they had never made “dark” here, they had never doused sleeping from a night pot, did not put a hornet or a bear into bed ...

In general, the summer has passed quite peaceful. The fat men calmed down, the shorties stopped singing a “quiet night” in front of the end, Dylde-3 bored to rush off the balcony, and the crooked-4-to beat Krivoy-1. No one is particularly jealous and does not reproach. Partly because our queen loves and welcomes a variety of relations: today she sodomated Konytsberg Kredsberg, Tomorrow, the twin-twin pitchfets of the Countess Nuremberg, and the day after tomorrow, no one will prohibit her with two holes, two crooked and two shorters to raise the countess already on sixth pitchfork or simply arrange a wide Sex-Part with baches, flaskalia, Abyssinian guards in icing sugar and champagne. The work is enough for everyone, even the fat man-2.

The clock was whispered half the third.

And yet-why did I end here? What the hell did I get bombarded? Stupidity? Or old age? I am four years old. This is an average age not only for uds, but also for most small ones . So this is an ordinary middle -aged crisis.

I'm trying to doze off, but it doesn’t work out. The clock was whispered three. And as if on command: the return from the bedroom to the Seral of four exhausted . They rave, hanging their heads. Judging by their appearance, the queen, having lost me, overdid it. The nasty shorty-4 comes up to me:

- Rejoice, crooked! Vagina Avida sentenced you and the rest of the Russians in Saatgut.

This is already serious. This is worse than on a widow auction or in the brothel. This is a milk yield. Life in the laboratory. The work is hellish, without art. Test tubes + upportment . Streams of Through sperm. And until his death.

And I am to blame for this, an idiot. He lit and corrupted in the palaces, mutilated with a dignity.

The little one fell asleep, Dylda-4 drinks eagerly. I ask him to pushing one of the Russians.

Soon three of our sleepy ones are below. I declare them:

- We are given to Saatgut!

I see from my cage how three Russians showed picturesquely. Just citizens Kale performed by Salvador Dali ...

A short debt ends with a unanimous decision: to run.

Where? It is not clear ...

Not to Count Sheremetyeva ... Four years ago, he made a worthy gift to the queen of Dorothee: four Russians in red varnished boxes painted with Palekh craftsmen. I do not think that this nobleman will be glad to illegal return to our native incubator.

Shorty-12 named Petya reports that tomorrow the train, drawn by a three-story biece, goes to Bavaria for Oktoberfest. The idea came: to climb into the ears to the giant, to get with him to Bavaria. Of course, you have to pay. In our chests, something has accumulated over the years of hard work. Labor- SPA . Well, let's get to Bavaria, and then? Where is our brother's most calm? Unless in telluria ... Funny! To tears. Which are no longer left ...

Well, nothing. The remote well done everything is to the face, to the crown or by the end.