For tickets back and forth we had postponed 40 rubles each, and 10 rubles (as much as 10 rubles!) Still remained for food. So we really "chic"!
Looking at the strange subjects, for the next cheeks chewing another fourth cheburek, the charming Uzbek girl finally broke down, languishing with feminine curiosity, and asked the beautiful, like a murmur of a stream, with a voice: "And where are you guys from?" "We - from Siberia! "- proudly said Oleg, vainly trying to straighten his eternally stooped back. "Oh, how you are there, probably cold! - With pity and great compassion extended the Uzbek. Wishing to make an even greater impression on her, I said meaningfully, once again "loosening my peacock's tail": "We belong to a very rare Siberian nation, listed in the Red Book -" chaldones "!" I just, on the eve of the trip , Read "King - Fish" by Viktor Astafyev, where for the first time in his life he met this strange name of Siberians in the Krasnoyarsk Territory. The girl enthusiastically threw up her hands and from the bottom of her heart gave us another cheburek, wishing, apparently, to feed this amazing "endangered species". Wandering aimlessly around Tashkent, we decided to go to the first police department we came across. According to the legend, we came to Tashkent to find out about our future work in the militia, where we got by distribution (at that time we actually had one place in the investigation department of the Central Internal Affairs Directorate, not Tashkent, but Shymkent). Once inside the ROVD, we went into the office, on which hung a sign "deputy chief of the investigation department, Major Mukhamedshin." In the office we were very polite, orientally hospitable, met by a huge Uzbek, fattened during the years of "heavy" service in the police to the size of a thoroughbred "elite" boar at the Exhibition of Economic Achievements, to which we shoved our trainee certificates into the face (nothing with an expired validity ), Remaining from the training and production practice, and blatantly stated at the same time: "We were distributed to your department! I would like to get acquainted with the working conditions in advance! "Inspired by the" magic "perspective to work with" the chaldones themselves "(I already had time to fool around with all my heart), a trustful Uzbek, like Ostap Bender, began to paint us with wonderful fires the wonderful prospects of working in the" glorious " The Tashkent police. We understood from his lengthy speech only one thing: if we behave correctly with the leadership of the ROVD, we will not only make a brilliant career here, but also earn a lot of money!
We did not know then, and, of course, we could not know that the "cotton business" of Gdlyan and Ivanov, which is famous for the whole country, is coming, which will soon thoroughly shake and update the entire law-enforcement system of Uzbekistan.
Soon Tashkent was fed up to us, and we decided to change the disposition - to go to ancient Samarkand (I wanted something "new" or "well forgotten very old").
Our choice for Samarkand did not fall by accident. This was preceded by an active "promotion" Oleg, who almost shouted at the top of his voice, convincing me: "Well, when will you still be in life in Uzbekistan? You do not specifically go on an excursion to Samarkand! And to be in Uzbekistan and not to visit Samarkand is a total absurdity! Imagine - the grave of Tamerlane, Avicenna, Registan! It's just a song! No, of course, Bukhara is also not bad (we were originally going to go there), but Samarkand is better, much better! "
And soon we already rode on the sighted train in an almost empty seat reserved car. Falling asleep, I just had time to notice how an elderly Uzbek-conductor was looking suspiciously at us, lying on the lower shelves.
We did not have time to wake up, when an obliging Uzbek guide came to us in the compartment again, who informed us in an almost voluptuous whisper: "The guys in the next compartment are playing a class game -" sec. " You are invited to play! "We looked at him indifferently, without showing any interest, at least for two reasons: firstly, we were always indifferent to cards and other gambling games with Oleg; Secondly, after an internship at the Police, we felt like motherly "traces", which you simply can not spend on chaff. But "an old woman, as they say, happens to be an old woman"!
Once the mountain does not go to Magomed, then Magomed goes to the mountain. And soon a cheerful trio appeared in our compartment: Russian started for about 45 years with the appearance of a mother "zek" and an incredibly hoarse, drunken voice; And two young pretty Uzbeks. "Guys," Siply greeted us cheerfully, actively portraying himself as a mass audience - an entertainer. "You are bored, we are bored, let's get bored together!" And he began to pour out a joke of jokes - jokes that clearly belonged to the genre of prison folklore, and therefore we were well acquainted with the course of criminalistics. "And let's play the" interest "in a cool game -" secka "is called. Only two cards - and how much happiness! "" No, we do not play this shit, "I snapped, but Siply did not calm down. In the end, Oleg, unable to withstand his onslaught, said to me: "Let's play, Serega, there's still nothing to lose." And we sat down to play. "Seca" is a fairly primitive map game, where the principle of the game is about the same as in similar card games, such as "borax" and "azi". As usual, the card wins by seniority, and "jack-off" here, for some reason, are two jacks. The second combination of "nebitki" is a jack
