How I drank absinthe, died and hit heaven

Today is Monday, which means that on the pages of your beloved samizdat the day of texts from the section resources will start. Where to start the last Monday of Summer, if not from our favorite section "Alcohol & Duru"? Our reader Ilya tells how absinthe and nonsense brought him to heaven. Ilya, take care of yourself and slow down, with age, the heart may not withstand.

This story happened by a warm August day, when wormwood had already bloomed with might and main, alcohol was cheap, and a huge amount of absinthe was prepared for my good friend Andrei.

Tired of took the idle in the stuffy city, we decided not to waste the last days of the summer and go on a cultural vacation - closer to nature. Taking with it a certain amount of fresh absinthe, grass and another good friend, we started. No one suspected in what deplorable state we would finish.

Having reached the destination and passing through the checkpoint (it is worth clarifying that the residence of Andrei, which was the purpose of our trip, was in a military town surrounded by a concrete fence and a “God -dandelion” guarded by a “24/7 mode”), we proceeded to examine the surroundings and, without considering them quite interesting, set about absent. After a few glasses and papigies "Belomorkanal", our brave vataga wished to change the deployment and go to the lake in order to refresh in cool water. The sun was turning on to sunset, so we decided not to waste time on formalities and climbed over the fence, bypassing the checkpoint.

Our path ran through the field and a small forest, and if we were a little sober, would undoubtedly reach the ill -fated lake. But absinthe played a cruel joke with our feet, and we did not get to the pond at all. It was getting dark quickly, but no one wanted to go back, everyone wanted a quarrel and exploits. Nearby, we discovered a mountain of limestone, about six meters high. Comrades appreciated my proposal to climb up, dilute the bonfire and use more, admiring the pacifying landscape from a height. Although the mountain (if it can be called it) and was almost steep, it was carefully hollowed out, which allowed it to easily climb to the top. At the end of the rise, we were waiting for a little disappointment - there was nothing to make a fire from. Only a lonely birch stood and rustled in the wind, as if urging us to sit down beside and immediately drink. Getting a faceted glass, a well -fed bottle, a pack of Belomor and a bag of grass, we started.

I woke up drunkenly. When I got up and looked around, a sad thought crept into my head: it seems that the heavens exist, and there rather gloomy. I did not remember absolutely nothing, I hardly dug up my own name in my memory, and the picture appeared extremely adultery: around the clouds, pierced by dull distracted rays of the only source of light, slightly emerging through them, which I could not identify. Having lifted my head, I found only the black canvas of the heavenly dome - neither stars nor a month. For a couple of minutes, I, as if spellbound, watched the clouds swirled in the light of an inaccurately distant luminous ball, and tried to understand where I was, and whether I had died, an hour.

The train was brought into the senses of the train. I did not die and did not hit heaven - I just fell asleep drunk on the mountain and woke up in the middle of the night. The mountain was in the lowland, and at night it was enveloped in fog. The source of the light was a lonely lantern standing by the railway, which ran nearby. My comrades were sleeping on a birch, which we in the heat of the battle with the green snake shallowly broke.

Having pushed Andrei and Dmitry, I made them feel the scale of the tragedy and repent to the heavens for the unreasonably killed birch. In the dim light of flashlights, we slowly went down the mountain and slowly went towards the checkpoint. The night was dark and full of horrors, we constantly fell into ditches and pits, but stubbornly wandered through the grass that was in some places above me. In front of the granny, we appeared in the passage in all its glory: drunk, in green clothes from grass and with the eyes of the color of ripe tomatoes.

Having reached the beds, we instantly saved Morpheus into the kingdom of Morpheus, and in the morning we wrote beautiful poems and groomed by absorption, but this is a completely different story.