Book: Cursed days. Page 1

In "the Odessa Nabat" the request to knowing to report about the fate of missing comrades: Wali Evil, Misha Dark, Furmanczyk and Muravchik... Then the obituary of some Yasenki: "And you were dead, dead, beautiful Jasenka... how lush the flower, just let your petals... like winter ray of sunshine... outraged by the slightest injustice, rebels against oppression, violence, was the victim of a savage Horde, destroying everything that is valuable in humanity... rest in peace, Jasenica, we will avenge you!" What the Horde? For what and whom to revenge? It is also said that Asenka victim of the "world beach venerina".

The great hall of the former Garrison of the Meeting, where once lived a pack of generals, is now full of soldiers. Particularly successful was the last concert. First performed was the "Internationale," then comrade Cronkite, causing interest and enjoyment of listeners, imitated the barking of dogs, screeching of a chicken, the singing of the Nightingale and other animals, up to the notorious pig..." "Yelp" chicken and "the singing of the Nightingale and other animals" - which, it turns out, is also all up to pig to sing - this, I think, the devil would have composed. Why only pig "notorious" and imitation of her singing "the Internationale"?

Going at it [the Banquet] all the same - the whole "color of the Russian intelligentsia," that is, famous artists, actors, writers, public personalities, the new Ministers and one high foreign representative, Ambassador of France. But over all prevails, the poet Mayakovsky. I was sitting with Gorky and the Finnish painter Gallen. And Mayakovsky began with the fact that without any invitation came to us to move the chair between us and began to eat from our plates and drinking out of our glasses. Gallen stared at him with wide eyes, as he looked likely a horse, if it, for example, introduced in this Banquet hall. A bitter laughed. I moved away. Mayakovsky saw it.
- You really hate me?- fun he asked me.
I without any hesitation said no: it would be too much honor to him. It has already been revealed trough your mouth something else to ask me, but then rose for an official toast, the foreign Minister, and Mayakovsky dashed towards him, towards the middle of the table. And there he jumped on the chair and so obscenely yelled something that the Minister froze. A second later, after recovering, he again proclaimed: "gentlemen!" But Mayakovsky yelled harder than ever. And the Minister, having made another and equally fruitless attempt, he threw up his hands and sat down. But as soon as he sat down, stood up as the French Ambassador. Obviously, he was quite sure that really before him-the Russian hooligan can not this neglect. There it was! Mayakovsky instantly choked it even more stentorian roar. Moreover, to the immense astonishment of the Ambassador, suddenly became wild and wanton frenzy and all the audience: infected by Mayakovsky, nor all of a sudden yelled and started kicking boots to the floor, his fists on the table, began to laugh, to howl, to scream, to grunt and extinguishing the electricity. And suddenly everything was drowned out by a truly tragic wail of some Finnish artist similar to shaven walrus. Already drunk and deathly pale, he was obviously shaken to the core by this excess of beastliness, and wanting to protest against it, was that there are forces and literally with tears shouting one of the few Russian words, he knows:
- A lot! Mnogoe! Mnogoe! Mnogoe!

Told how the Bolsheviks still amazed that they managed to seize power and that they still hold:
- Lunacharsky after the coup two weeks running around with bulging eyes: no, you just think, because we only demonstration I wanted to make and suddenly such an unexpected success!

Mayakovsky was called in high school Idiot Polyphemoides.

And not a soul in sight - only the soldiers and ***I.

Of us as of wood or a club or icon.

We all must be very all to blame each other. But only when you feel that separation. Then how many more of us these years together? If these will be the summer, it's still less and less. And then what? Go graves! So much pain, so acute senses so sharp all the thoughts and memories! And how stupid we usually! As calm! And really need this pain that we appreciate life?

What is an old Russian disease, this yearning, this boredom, this razmalevannuju - the eternal hope that comes a frog with a magic ring and will do everything for you: one has only to go out on the porch and swing with one hand to the ring.

In fact, all of us, it's time to hang yourself, so we scored, muzzled, deprived of all rights and laws, live in a vile slavery, among constant Causeni, bullying.