Oh, I love… A series of short stories. Nikolay Lakutin

At one time, my brother and I traveled to different cities in Russia. There were trips of an entertaining nature, there were trips of an archaeological and esoteric plan, and it happened that they went solely for economic mercantile reasons.

      I don't remember exactly where it was, in which city. Maybe it was somewhere in Altai, maybe in Omsk, maybe in Chelyabinsk, but I remember for sure that it wasn't in my hometown of Novosibirsk.

      It means that we are walking along some central street with my brother, having a nice conversation, eating ice cream, exploring the city, local attractions. The gait is light, the mood is excellent, life is wonderful.

      Here I will make a small digression, and tell you a little about myself and my brother. By the way, yes, I have a brother, so there are also two of us, which does not please a certain audience at all. But if I've always been the d… seeker of the d…seeker, then my little brother has somehow always been shot down. Not exactly a fat man, but there was always a belly. And if in childhood we had some more movement. Running, jumping, climbing trees, then entering adulthood, we, like most people, settled at work. Gatherings in offices, sitting in the car in traffic jams and intercity flights. Fast food. All this left its mark and was deposited in my brother's abdomen. Well, as I was a worm, so I remained one.

      So here we go. I'm skinny, and my brother is chubby. Almost like Lelik and Bolik. We go to ourselves quietly, peacefully, decorously. We talk. Some people are coming towards us, saying something to themselves among themselves, discussing something. Everything seems to be the same as always. Nothing unusual. But then it happened!

      We look – a woman is coming to meet us. Years … well under forty. A sturdy aunt, approximately similar both in appearance and in forms to the one that flaunts on the cover of this article. And this aunt is not just walking – she is smiling. And not just smiling. She smiles somehow… frankly speaking with a scoundrel! There was something in her smile that made me pay attention to her. After all, she smiles, lady, and at the same time looks at us.

      Well, yes… smiling, yes smiling. We checked the fly, everything is buttoned up, so everything is fine. And it wasn't there!

      We almost caught up with her and even almost passed each other, when suddenly this beautiful woman, for no reason at all, launched her playful little hands straight into my brother's belly. So, you know, sharply and purposefully, so selflessly and selflessly, as if her whole future life depended on it!

      Figuratively speaking, even I shuddered.

      I do not know what happened to my brother there. I guess he's shitting himself a little, too. The situation, as you understand, was very favorable. And this lady, God grant her health, how let's feel the folds of my brother's stomach. He gropes, frankly "mats" and sentences:

      – Oh, I love fat ones!

      In general, while we were standing in a frenzy, the woman received her dose of "delicious feelings" and headed happily down the road. When the gift of speech returned to us, my brother finally said:

      – No, well, it's interesting. And I like si… ki, for example. But I don't do that, do I? Can I start?

      In my opinion, it was, after all, Chelyabinsk.

      Dear woman, if you are reading these lines now – know! I don't have a very good opinion about Chelyabinsk because of you. What is most unpleasant is not the fact that it was Chelyabinsk at all, but Chelyabinsk definitely fell in my eyes thanks to you!

      Don't do that again, please. Love the fat ones further, but do it… somehow more delicately. Warn me at least before the attack, that, they say, dear, I'm going to crumple your layers now. Well, or something else. But not the way it was done. I still shudder when I remember. It's a good thing we didn't meet any lovers of d.. bloodhounds in this city. Otherwise, I feel like I would have stayed there, I have a weak heart. And you shouldn't have read this article then. However, maybe you wouldn't have lost much, but somehow I wouldn't want to die such an unheroic death. It's not respectable somehow.

      Know, woman, we're not going to Chelyabinsk anymore!

      Oh, I love the skinny.

      I remembered another entertaining episode, in continuation of the theme of my trips with my brother to the cities of Russia.

      I'm telling you…

      There is such a place in the Omsk region – Okunevo! This is not an easy place. People from all over the world come here to see the "cosmodrome", which is naturally hidden from everyone's eyes by the 4th or 5th, or I don't know which dimension. I didn't really delve into it. People come here to visit the five most famous lakes. They are so famous that I don't remember the name of any of them. Yes, I did not go to these lakes… They surrendered to me. However, many people have been to these parts. I remember exactly what Mikhail Zadornov was… and who else I don't remember. Old age is not a joy, memory fails. It was in 2015.

      In this place of power, my brother's hard work has carried him. He was there with a group of clairvoyants surveyed the area, agreed with the guides so that they would lead their group to the very w.... the thicket. Well, I wasn't interested in all this, and yet, I fell on my brother's tail, and escaped for a few days away from home, from my family (for which I was immediately punished), because it was just a crime to miss such an opportunity.

      What was I doing there? I was sitting, writing a book. If I'm not confused, I was working on the book "6,000,000,000 Trumans" there. Over the first or second part.

      For me, this area was amazing not so much the sights of esoteric directions as the cost of housing. Completely ruined houses hundreds of kilometers from civilization cost 2-5 million rubles in this place. And they were bought! That was a real miracle for me. These houses were bought, demolished and made such recreation centers and guest houses for tourists.

      We were not the only guests on the territory of the guest house. About five families had breakfast, lunch and dinner with us. As a rule, people come here not ordinary, but some kind of … spiritual. Well, for me, an amateur, at the time it was just writing a book and communicating with the local population.

      And so, one ill-fated evening, the devil still pulled my tongue, and I, unable to contain my emotions, suddenly declared:

      – Look! Nifint yourself the Moon!!!

      All present turned their eyes to the sky.

      The moon was really unusual. 5-7 times more than the one that people observe in cities. Somehow, it even becomes a little uncomfortable when you see such a large celestial object.

      And so, at my call, one woman was so impressed by what she saw that she dropped the keys to the house from her playful hands! (Why playful – you will understand later). She just at that moment took out the keys, and aimed to open the door, as I pulled her back with my baritone treble flowing through the expanses of the forest night.

      Eh, it was not destined for me and the guests of the complex to admire the Moon, because the attention from the beautiful was immediately switched to an equally fascinating and sonorous female:

      – Bl … hmm hmm hmm....d!!! her

      keys fell no matter where, but right into the crack of the wooden porch, on the steps of which she was standing when I announced the neighborhood with the news about wow, what a Moon!

      Then your humble servant, who has supernatural insight, realized that I would have to get the keys… to me.

      And who else? The male part of the population has not yet returned from their wanderings through the lakes and the 4th dimensions. And here I am, he's the center of attention here.

      What I just didn't do to get this guy his top key. The hostess of the establishment was diligently looking for a spare one, and in the meantime I was trying to break up the porch. You've probably already noticed from the photos that I'm not Ilya Muromets, or even Elisha Silovich. Therefore, the task in front of me was extremely difficult. I tried to unscrew the rusty screws, tear off the stale board in the end, but in the end, as I remember, after calling all the local Spirits to help, I somehow managed to tear this ill-fated porch off the ground (probably along with the house, I don't remember the details of how I did it), and the lady managed to pull the key out of there for a few seconds, before the opportunity to earn me an intervertebral hernia.

      We