100 DAYS BEFORE THE DEATH | excerpts of the future novel


DAY FIVE

ми гарячі

Plyumbum as always woke up at 4 am, dressed up and in a hurry, without breakfast, rushed to the elevator. On the third floor, the lift door suddenly opened, the bright light blinked, and scared yellow face jumped out, kicking someone’s cat. Breathless and tired in an attack of an unspeakable feeling, stranger crashed onto the door 476, double-clicked on the bell. From the neighboring 477, there was a rush of the newspaper and a powerful fall sound.

At the same time, with blackened swelling and bloody veins in the eyes, under a monotonous, as drops from the tap, the old watch Schultz carefully drew too complicated and exact drawings. He was stooped even worse

than a lamp on his table. His wife had been sleeping peacefully for a long time already,  after crying on the end of the pillow. Once again this week, she is locked in the basement of a system of four successfully connected cages, without Schulz` warm, any light and food. There was a stench and captured squeaks of basements rats. They squeak just a little bit, and instantly dissolved in the depths of the subterranean gloom, not accustomed to the strange guest.

On the whole, this might not have ever happened, just as five days ago, at the province station, the suitcase did not fall out of all luggage, which was heading to the storage. That was enough efforts of the old, fueled by the fuel oil, heaver.

The suitcase did not fall and did not slam, but somehow gently settled down on the floor. Also, it was strange that there were no receipts, coupons or any other distinguishing marks that would indicate the owner or at least the destination. There was nothing at all, apart from the greyishness of the color of the plating and a little too big, carved handle, apparently made afterward. A few seconds later, as a man in leather jacket, mittens and black glasses (in these regions people, who don’t go anywhere, can’t remember how hot the day might be) left his place and quietly, drawing almost no attention, swam to the location of the incident. The hand gently fell, the suitcase the same noiselessly ascended and gained the trajectory of a stranger in the leatherette.

– And how much there is this pension! – Old saleswoman continued her conversation and added some seeds for doves.

My thoughts are well-ordered. Such an opportunity will no longer fall, just not in my life. It’s a chance. After 20 days, I wake up in every morning with an unbearably burning injection. My mother, who lives with me, makes it. I specifically asked her to feel the pain as spontaneously and suddenly as possible. So I suffer less. However, now morning and waking up began to be associated with injections, and the new day – with pain. I do not know why, but now I am surer than ever in my life, that this case will drastically shake my life into a new orbit. The suitcase is the START. And it does not matter what’s inside.

****

As a child, I somehow went to my grandfather and knocked out a promise that after death he would send me signals with a detailed description of the afterlife. Instead, the procedure for their reception looked like this every Saturday: as usual walking around the park, among the young mothers and their children, playing peacefully around clubs, flowerbeds, and trees. I silently stepped on still warm doggy shit, lifted my finger up, and whispered something. After that, flipping through the pages of the thick-walled newspaper, I moved to the bench under the old linden and slept for a long time…

After a powerful blow to the jaw, I immediately felt on the ground and began to vomit loudly and spectacularly, and after a few seconds, I was still lively to writhing, swirling, splashing saliva, fighting hysterics, twisting my arms and legs, as if  it turns out from me if not a soul, but obviously mid-level devil. This time I was beaten. It seems like my trick (because I still managed to suck two fingers into my throat when I fell), scared gangsters very well. They shrieked lightly and irritably, startled for a moment.

– Fuck! He’s crazy! Let’s get outta here! He is sick!

At farewell, fatty in a black shirt kicked me fell, directly spat in my and without that vomited face. I was free. And I fell asleep.

When the next day the sun was already high, and I accidentally notice the costs, I did it without hesitation. I bought an aging stick, a stick for people with disabilities, that now would have seemed to be my fifth wheel, third leg or something else. However, already standing in a few minutes in the metro, I began to grow up with prospects. Now I could calmly stand in the center of the wagon, not to hold on anything, and still create more free space ahead with my third leg. That became another point of support, which is so lacking to all of us now. Apart from the fact that I became the object of general attention and compassion, people let me sit in their places on public transport. For this, I just had to go with a little groan and on a crutch, to stand next to one of young dude and quietly moan. The effect is instant and without fail.

Next, I began to notice that my “contusion” is a good reason for dating with the most different females of the human race. In the end, it became clear that the crutch was also an excellent way to calm down the nerves, to tickle, stylishly hold it in the hands and feet, point out the path, sometimes the direction of thought, as well as give the hooligans on the neck and other objects of their use. But most of all I liked to draw a girl’s neck for a kiss. It also turns out that it can still be mowed under Dr. House, plays golf with chestnuts and knocks on asses in long queues. Furthermore, I decided to remove the whole science-fiction film ‘The crutch- As an Instrument of Survival in the City’s Slumdogs.’ And I would have become insanely popular, if not for one incident, which made me immediately leave everything and sail on the island of Herpes.

 

To be continued

 

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