These two months of life in Pankrushieh flew absolutely imperceptibly and so rapidly that there is nothing special to remember. My constant attributes of the "external" form of life in the village were the absolutely incompetent, meaningless work of the legal adviser in the regional consumer cooperative and the unrestrained, general, simply "universal" drunkenness of the local population. Pankrushisha turned out to be a perfect illustration to our immortal work "Mankina Love" - the same images, the same characters, the same closeness to nature, the same Love! (And where only our unforgettable San Palych "Faker" saw in our and Oleg's novel an outright lie and slander against the Soviet village ?! He would come here!) Particularly clear parallel with the "Manka's love" was seen in the local village bakery, where I occasionally worked as a baker, to somehow reduce the "ends meet." There, right before my eyes, a "sultry" village novel developed between the technician-alcoholic Mikhailich and the brutal woman, two meters tall, a woman-baker Varvara, who easily, playfully, juggled hot "forms" with bread and moved huge jugs along the hall with Test. When we all had dinner at the same table, the enamored Mihailitch with tender tenderness in his gaze asked Varvara affectionately: "Come on, pig pork, send me some bread!" And the happy "kunka," laughing joyfully, flirted with coquettishness Mihalich with fragrant hot bread. Looking at this touching, "idyllic" scene of village Love, I involuntarily recalled the words of the popular folk song about the unforgettable Akulka:
Do you remember, native Akulka,
That first our love,
That's our first date
In the cowshed near the cows?
You swallowed the swill of the cow,
I cleaned the sovkhoz shed,
You stepped on my foot,
As if, quite accidentally.
And I'll fool you, fool,
Warmed on the broad back,
You cried: "Damn hairy!"
In response, she smiled at me.
Now, native Akulka,
You long and gently revenge,
Then you'll throw bugs into the kettle,
You'll piss me off the roof!
Once I rashly, without "preliminary intelligence", went into the shower bakery, where the "beautiful" Varvara was at that time in the absolute "negligee". She was not at all embarrassed, unlike me, and very so eroticly called me in a passionate whisper: "Well, come to me, my doll!" From horror I asked a baker from the bakery that they only saw me there. Bless and save! So in fact not for long, and without the unfortunate Chernobyl, to become impotent - "IMPO -1986"!
Finally, it was October 1986 - the autumn call began.
The draft company and its accompanying medical commission is not by chance, already long in Russia, is the subject of numerous "male" anecdotes. The thing is that in these commissions very often young people - doctors - are interns. Already this fact itself contains a significant element of intrigue - after all, we have to bare ourselves naked, and a woman, even a doctor, "she is also a woman in Africa!" So, my draft company did not become a "pleasant" exception to this rule.
Another embarrassment on the medical board occurred because of my pants. I always wore army grandfather's pants, richly spattered with greasy stains (my grandfather had a strange habit of dining at the table in his underwear). Moreover, this time, apparently half asleep, I put my grandfather's pants directly on my naked body, and the elderly ensign in the military registration and enlistment office, tightly clinging to my underwear, forced me to remove them altogether. I can imagine how I looked on the general "dressed" background of the draftees with their genitalia, bored with cold and shame.
Looking into the office, where the young doctors were sitting, I realized that I would never, even under pain of death, go there in Adam's costume. Quickly ran into the locker room, put on his pants, tucked them like a golf trousers.
But this did not save me from the curiosity. A pretty young girl, a doctor, gazing intently at my defecating spots, asked me straight and plain: "Are you engaged in masturbation?" I was taken aback by surprise and blurted out without thinking: "Yes it's not me, it's grandfather!" She She laughed loudly. A tall, pimply guy of a degenerate kind came in after me, to whom the girl said softly, in a low voice: "Take off (she meant his swimming trunks) and put it on the table!" The guy, without a long thought, took off the trunks, and, in turn, lifting his legs, neatly Put his "farm" on the table, right in front of the stunned doctor. "Yes you are today, all conspired, or what? What do you allow yourself, young man, what kind of rudeness !? "- she angrily exclaimed and hit the guy, though not much, a pointer over the genitals. "Yes, there is much in nature, Horatio's friend, which our wise men did not dream about!" - just want to exclaim in the words of Shakespeare's Hamlet when you remember these "golden dots".
Finally, these long medical tortures ended and we were taken to the regional assembly point, where teams were being formed to be sent to the troops. In this fairly crappy institution - "bomber" we spent three whole days, while we, dirty and pretty overgrown with bristles, finally were not scattered around the teams (Oleg was immediately pulled out by some tall handsome major - the "buyer" from the Far Eastern motorized rifle division, Located in the city of Obluchye Amur Region). I, along with 15 of my classmates, were sent by train to the city of Omsk. As I remember now - it was already November 11, 1986, and Barnaul, "dropping his tears," said goodbye to me with a warm, almost summer rain. Arriving in Omsk, we realized that this, it turns out, is
