Yuri Markeev. Crack (№ 393072)

In front Kurochkin nurses tied up woozy after a deathly story of the Cuban who ran around the office shouting: "Revolt! Long live the world revolution! Coffins and guillotine is our symbol!". Cuban was dressed up in a straitjacket, and aunt Glasha gave him a double portion of the magnesia in each buttock, so that it is a metaphorical expression of "life is cracking in the area W..." took quite perceptible scathing look. But then the self-proclaimed brother of Fidel, passionate soul, writhing on the floor in pain, he continued to shout revolutionary slogans interspersed with delirium. "Hurrah! - he yelled. In blitzkrieg only play the Germans! Cuban will show your bourgeois face cat eye of the dictatorship of the proletariat. I learned Russian only for the fact that Lenin spoke. All hanged on lampposts in nature..."
Soon, the Cuban was quiet. Realizing, obviously, your "cracked" position, he is unlikely to show someone the cat eyes of the dictatorship of the proletariat, a Cuban clenched his teeth and curled up, silent.
One of the patients, a former teacher of rastamanskie Bodrato, insane, like Kurochkin, on religious grounds alcoholic, took a moment to quietly to the nurses to approach Ivan Mefodevich and whisper to him that from the street through a bathroom window it causes some bearded friend Smokes. Kurochkin bullet slipped into the toilet, with little concern about what this intimate restaurant in the mental hospitals seen from the office through a special hinged window. Clutching at the bars, Ivan looked down into the courtyard, and saw the excited alcohol Dimka Dimova, a heart friend who shook before him an open bottle of port.
- Salutations, soul Kurochkin! - thundered the red-bearded giant, in a welcoming gesture throwing up your hand with port. - Drink to your health, my friend! How long are you going to hang around in these stinking land? Beast your Ideas! Gives you to visit. Rubbish! Bureaucracy! X-rays fucking! Soul does not see, son of a dog! Bureaucrats took possession of the souls of brilliant artists. Vanya! - even louder shouted Dymov. - Do you know what is happening on the streets of our blessed town? Rebellion, revolution, disobedience holiday! And tops it all some kind of mad monk. Has led just a bunch of fanatics to the Uspensky temple and demands of the Church authorities. Says that did the world end in Rastyapino.
Smokes took a swig from the bottle and mad, laughed.
- And, indeed, long live doomsday! Want anarchy! Tired of mocking the power of money and the bureaucrats! Break the grate, friend, jump! I'll catch you, and we incurred General in a whirlwind of madness.
(from the novel Crack)