Elena Sokolskaya – Shameover (страница 2)
started playing. What did I play? I don't know! It sounded
like a grinder grinding on rusty iron, but I was sure it was a future hit. However, the audience did not agree with me.
Plastic cups, napkins, and, I think, one vape were thrown at me. I'm not sure, really, but it was definitely smoking. I rubbed my ears. – But then I became friends with the homeless. They appreciated my avant-garde style. It seems. By the way, they had their own boombox, sot cooperation was inevitable.
Ignat shook his head. – Homeless people are always a colorful audience. – His answers were always
"meaningful and full of epithets." —Then… then, and then what happened?" Oh, yes… there was a chase. I
don't know why, but I was running away. Maybe from a
hipster, maybe from cops, or maybe from guilt and toxic
comments on Instagram. I just remember climbing up on the monument to Yuri Gagarin and starting to read Brodsky's poems to him.
7.
It was unforgettable and sometimes unintelligible. I think he would have been happy for me if he hadn't been a bronze and hadn't been stuck in the Soviet past.
I took another sip of coffee. – The last thing I remember is the couriers from the Delivery Club carrying me home. I think they confused me with a large order of food.
Ignat burst out laughing, finally looking up from his
MacBook and giving me a piercing look. "Couriers?" Seriously?
– It couldn't be more serious. They also tried to take tips from me later. And here I am. With a headache, guilt, and
the question of how I'm going to explain to the boss why I overslept the morning brunch with his wife, which was scheduled two months ago.
I sighed, finishing my coffee. – In general, Ignat, the moral of this fable is: never, do you hear? Never tell me that I can only drink "a couple of craft ales."
Ignat smiled, snapping his MacBook shut. "I'll keep that in mind. But, frankly, I'd be interested to know what hacks that IT guy knows.… 8.
I shrugged my shoulders. – We won't find out, obviously.…
God, I was exhausted. And those black eyes of mine… Half of it just slipped my mind. But Ignat didn't stop
encouraging me all this time, while I was just trying to
come to my senses. Summoning all my willpower, I ran to a meeting where I was clearly no longer expected.…
But well… sometimes you have to take responsibility for your actions, I thought, running away in a taxi.…
9.
November 28, 2023
–Damn, Ignat, don't even start," I moaned, leaning back in my chair in the coffee shop and massaging my temples. Six months have passed since our last conversation, and,
frankly, I hoped that this topic would forever remain buried in the depths of my hangover consciousness. – I'm still ashamed.
Ignat, who was sitting opposite, sipped his latte with habitual calmness and a funny grin and gloated: – Come
on, admit it, were you waiting for me to ask? Six months have passed, and it's time for the annual report on your drunken adventures.
"Annual?" Ignat, to be honest, it's more like a monthly disaster. I grimaced, remembering the events of six months ago. —Okay, okay. Just promise me you won't take this on camera. The last time you did that, my social media was on fire for weeks. And my boss was just furious.
Ignat raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. —
Honest pioneer. No videos. Just an oral recitation of your sins. It's just a pity that I forgot my cassock," he laughed.
I sighed. – In general, do you remember that startup for creating VR games that I was trying to promote?
Ignat nodded. – The one where you promised mountains of gold and a breakthrough in the industry, but in the end it all
ended with you playing a "Virtual Bruiser" with yourself?
– Yes, that's the one. So, after a disastrous speech to investors, I decided to drown my grief in the good old bar
"The Lame Unicorn".
Ignat smiled sarcastically. – How "unpredictable".
"I know, I know. But there's a catch. Unfortunately, the bar found itself in a zone of turbulence due to a new trend – alcohol yoga. Yes, that's what you're thinking. Yoga and alcohol.
I paused to enjoy the look on his face, which was puzzled, and he was just trying not to laugh in my face. – And, as you can guess, my attempt to keep my balance in the
lotus position after three shots of tequila ended badly. I ran right into a group of novice yogis, disrupting their meditation and breaking a couple of candles. "It's a masterpiece,– Ignat commented.
– That's not all. After that, I decided that I needed enlightenment. And the fastest way to get there is, of course, to participate in a local stand-up comedian contest. You know, I've always dreamed of sharing my humor with the world.
–Oh no, not stand—up," Ignat groaned, shaking his head.
"You're telling jokes at the Flatlander level."
– Well, how to say it. After a few mugs of "fire dragon" (a local cocktail made from a hellish mixture of everything that burns) My jokes have become even more…
experimental. So experimental that the audience fell silent, and then tomatoes flew at me. Real, juicy
tomatoes, or so it seemed to me. At least, I hope so.
I rubbed my face. – And to top it all off, I decided that the stage is a great place to showcase my parkour skills. You know, jumping over tables, doing somersaults.…
Ignat burst out laughing. – Is parkour in your performance? It must have been epic and, as always, unpredictable.
– Epic failure! I broke my finger when I got caught on a microphone stand, and ended the evening at the nearest
trauma center, where I tried to convince the doctor that I was a superhero and broke my finger saving the world.
"And the doctor believed you?" Ignat asked.
"He prescribed me a sedative and told me not to drink fire dragon anymore," I replied. – The funny thing is that the
next day I woke up, and my story had already gone viral on TikTok. Now I am known as a "Yoga Parkour Comedian", and I was offered to star in a social advertisement against alcohol.
I sighed, finishing my coffee. – That's it, Ignat. I'm trying to live a normal life, but apparently fate has prepared me for the role of a city lunatic.
Ignat smiled. – Well, what can I say? You make my life more interesting. But next time, maybe we can just try to sit at home and play chess?
I looked at him suspiciously. – Well, if it's ordinary chess, which will have real pieces, and not B-52?
Ignat shrugged his shoulders and said with a grin, "I promise nothing." 13.
March 12, 2024.
– Ignat, my friend, hold on tight. This story claims to be the craziest of all," I began, sipping orange juice in
the hope that vitamin C would restore my brain activity at least a little. —Yes, it has something to do with my birthday, and yes, there are goblins involved. From the sewer. Don't ask me how it happened.
Ignat, as always, settled into an armchair with interest. – Every time I think about whether you can surprise me. Tell me."
– Anyway, in honor of my birthday, my friends decided to have a "Back to the 90s" themed party. Imagine acid
colors, rave music, and a bunch of food that I'm sure was
discontinued long ago. Naturally, alcohol was necessary. And yes, I went a little overboard with the Turbo Hedgehog cocktail, a nuclear blend of energy drinks and Blue Curaçao liqueur.
Ignat grimaced. – It sounds in your repertoire.