Brave tightrope walker

2024 Author: James Gerald | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 14:00

As a teenager, hippie and ballroom dancing, holding three"

My next adventure was a man. Yes, an ordinary man. We met the man of my dreams when I flew from a stepladder, on which I perched in order to wipe the leaves of a palm tree. Fortunately, at that moment he entered our office and managed to catch me and even return me to an upright position. According to all the same psychologists, a woman needs a dozen seconds to draw all the necessary conclusions about the personality of the opposite sex. Less was enough for me to come to the only conclusion: this subject is vitally necessary for me and I will get it. The poor fellow did not suspect that he was already in trouble. So far, he smiled and joked about the "brave tightrope walkers." You don’t know, my dear, what a thin rope you have just climbed, inviting me for a cup of coffee in a nearby bar! We talked nicely - so, about nothing, and parted as good friends.

Since then, he did not come to our office without a chocolate or a bouquet of flowers, and I revel in flirting. Time passed, and flirting for some reason unknown to me stalled in one place - the candy-bouquet period was beginning to get on my nerves. I wanted walks in the moonlight, serenades of my beloved and, what the hell is not kidding, diamond rings in addition to the marriage proposal. I became thoughtful and called for help from my closest friends. We urgently called a small women's council and there was only one question on the agenda: how to provoke him to active actions? By midnight, cigarettes and coffee ran out, the brandy had long been drunk - the plan was worked out. The basis was the "reliable" stories about all kinds of miracles that happened to numerous acquaintances after turning to black and white magic. Nothing less than innate adventurism, fueled by high-grade drinks, hit me in the head and knocked me off the solid ground of pragmatism. First of all, the girls pulled out a fortune-telling book, telling me that I should first make sure that it was my betrothed. The book read: "Put on a stocking on one leg and go to bed, saying:" The bridegroom-mummer, come and take off my shoes!"

Svetka jumped off and rushed to my closet to look for a stocking. At first she grumbled with displeasure that you can only get lost in my closet, and not find something, and then happily announced that there were no problems with the stocking.

When I woke up, I remembered that I had to grab the corner of the pillow with my teeth so that the dream would not go away. In one black stocking and with a pillow in my teeth, I slipped into the next room where the girls slept. They stared at me blankly as I tried to mutter, "Bov-bov-exhro!"

I spat out my pillow and once again wished everyone good morning.

- Well? Have you seen? - my friends pounced on me.

- Tell?

- Do not be weary! - Sveta moaned.

I wonder what to tell them? I dreamed of all sorts of nonsense. Nobody came to take off your shoes and undress. I honestly listed everything that I remembered: I shot at glass jars, dreamed of myself as a man and somehow at the same time a fashion model in Paris, ran away from a flying pink elephant … what else? Look like that's it. Ah-ah, I also dreamed about the lop-eared Bear from the next department. What, in fact, was dreaming about is not clear. The whole dream was silent, blinking and smiling. In short, nothing interesting.

The girls silently looked at me, and then Svetka announced:

- It's all because you drank brandy at night. Who knows when drunk? You should have dreamed of a sobering-up station and a doctor in a white coat!

Grunting displeasedly, we went to breakfast. For morning coffee they decided: I need to go to the witch. We shoveled a mountain of newspapers with advertisements like: "I am returning my husband, treating diseases of Venus, removing damage and talking about wealth." We found a lot of sorcerers and sorceresses in the twentieth generation and chose one. A stern face looked from the photograph - well, exactly - just like my geographer at the moment when I was answering at the blackboard! I promised to visit the witch today and kept my promise. True, I realized that as a result of the visit, I would have to sit on yogurt and cornflakes until my paycheck, but it doesn't matter - it's good for my figure. But grandmother Marya gave me a magic remedy - a bottle with some substance, similar to salt, which was supposed to sprinkle everything around exactly at midnight of the seventh day of the new moon and say:

At midnight, armed with love magic written down on a piece of paper, I began to read with expression:

I recited this opus of oral folk art and thought: I, of course, do not mind that the good fellow sore for me, and perceived other girls like "shaggy witches", but about "I shouted in a bad voice" … I presented the prince of my dreams - brave, strong, courageous, screaming in a bad voice, clinging to me with all limbs and crying bitter tears. And I didn't like this image so much that I spent the rest of the night thinking. By morning my poor head was swollen and ill. This is how I came to work - completely broken and sick, with circles under my eyes. Looking at myself in the mirror, she was horrified. My Ivan Tsarevich, who is supposed to appear somewhere after lunch in our office, will undoubtedly be captivated by my unearthly beauty. I burned for fifteen minutes and ran to the boss to ask for leave: I desperately need two hours! The chief sighed and let go. Fine! Hairdresser Seryozha and cosmetologist Lenochka work wonders in two hours and make a captivating maiden out of kikimora!

Soon the princess floated into the office with impeccable makeup and hair. A cup of coffee - and I'm ready to meet my beloved lover. Beloved did not keep himself waiting and, showing up at four, in a conspiratorial whisper, invited me downstairs for a cup of coffee. My soul rejoiced - ur-r-ra! Love magic is working! Walking from the hip, I flew to the table, sat down more comfortably and prepared to listen to the fervent confession of my Romeo. Romeo hesitated a little, knocked over a glass of cognac and brought me a card, which he had been fiddling with in his hands before. What is it? Why are two rings drawn on the postcard, is it really so at once? My heart was beating so that I was deaf from this rumble. I hurried to read: "we will be glad … the wedding … will take place … a gala dinner … Olga and Andrey …". My heart beat softly once and fell somewhere in the area of the heels. She asked ominously: "Who is Olga?" In a couple of seconds my narrowed turned into a disguised man and began to mumble something about his bride, about a quarrel, about "spite", about reconciliation and a happy end. Then he began to admire the friendship he first had with a woman. The man of my dreams, breathless with delight, told me what a good friend I am, "my guy on the board" and invited me to his wedding!

Twenty minutes later, I let off steam and looked around in horror: no one was overlooked at the distance of the thrown chair, only Mishka from the next section was silently picking up the fragments of the broken cup. The stupid advice of grandmother Marya came to my mind and I, completely unexpectedly for myself, asked the lop-eared Mishka to be my gentleman at the wedding banquet.

After an unexpectedly cheerful wedding banquet and dancing until the morning, Mishka went to see me off …