Imaris
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It so happened that I decided to take care of myself. So, I decided to go and do some pull-ups on the bars.
We had a set of bars at the sports ground near the school. In the evenings, guys in sportswear would gather there and work out their arms. I approached them, greeted them, and was initially told to get lost, but then I explained that I wanted to take care of myself, and they happily welcomed me into their group. They explained to me how to do pull-ups correctly, showed off their muscles, did "sunflowers" (a type of exercise), in short, they were a warm and friendly bunch.
I worked out like that for about a month, started listening to Mavashi, quit smoking and drinking beer, stopped playing guitar, sold my leather jacket at the market, and instead, I set up a set of parallel bars at home.
And then, one beautiful morning, I noticed two red warts under my chin, and on my closely cropped head, there was some kind of red lump that stretched from my forehead to the back of my head. I went to the guys at the bars, but they didn't notice. While one of them was working out, his hat suddenly fell off, and I saw the same red streak across the back of his head. At first, I thought it was a scar, but then I touched my own head, and I felt a little uneasy.
In the evening, I put on Mishu Mavashi and went to take a shower because my whole body was itching. After the shower, I felt a little better, and I went to bed.
I woke up with an overwhelming urge to scream. The alarm clock showed five in the morning, it was summer, and the sun's rays timidly peeked into the dimly lit room. I got up, yawned, and suddenly, unexpectedly, I let out a wild scream, something like a rooster's crow. I tried to grab my head and cover my mouth, but my hands seemed to be twisted by some unknown force. They were moving, but not in the right direction.
My mother ran in at the scream, and when she saw me, she fainted. I walked to the mirror with a strange gait, jerking my head back and forth, and saw – oh, horror! – instead of myself in the mirror, there was a rooster the size of a man... I was scared! I rushed to the phone, somehow managed to pick up the receiver with my beak, and, pecking at the buttons, I dialed the number of an old friend. I tried to explain the situation to him, but all that came out of my throat was "Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cluck-cluck-cluck!". My friend listened to this for about five minutes, then said briefly, "I'll be there soon, don't lock the door," and hung up...
Everything after that was like a fog. I remember trying to insert the key into the lock with my beak, how I clumsily opened the door, how my friend came in, immediately grabbed a bottle of beer, opened it, and said, "Come on! Drink it down! It will save you."
I woke up on the couch... in my own body. My friend was sitting next to me, sipping tea from a mug, and grinned, "So, how was it, being a rooster?" he asked. I tried to say something, but only a hoarse exhale came out.
"It will pass," my friend replied. "And you should stop going to the bars, let's go have a beer on a bench instead, the weather is nice. And throw away that Mishu Mavashi. I don't know what tells me, but it seems that this stuff was the catalyst for your 'roosterization'."
Following his advice, I threw all of Mavashi's CDs into the trash, put an old "Iron Maiden" CD into the computer, and, listening to that music, I put on my favorite jeans and a punk rock t-shirt.
We had a set of bars at the sports ground near the school. In the evenings, guys in sportswear would gather there and work out their arms. I approached them, greeted them, and was initially told to get lost, but then I explained that I wanted to take care of myself, and they happily welcomed me into their group. They explained to me how to do pull-ups correctly, showed off their muscles, did "sunflowers" (a type of exercise), in short, they were a warm and friendly bunch.
I worked out like that for about a month, started listening to Mavashi, quit smoking and drinking beer, stopped playing guitar, sold my leather jacket at the market, and instead, I set up a set of parallel bars at home.
And then, one beautiful morning, I noticed two red warts under my chin, and on my closely cropped head, there was some kind of red lump that stretched from my forehead to the back of my head. I went to the guys at the bars, but they didn't notice. While one of them was working out, his hat suddenly fell off, and I saw the same red streak across the back of his head. At first, I thought it was a scar, but then I touched my own head, and I felt a little uneasy.
In the evening, I put on Mishu Mavashi and went to take a shower because my whole body was itching. After the shower, I felt a little better, and I went to bed.
I woke up with an overwhelming urge to scream. The alarm clock showed five in the morning, it was summer, and the sun's rays timidly peeked into the dimly lit room. I got up, yawned, and suddenly, unexpectedly, I let out a wild scream, something like a rooster's crow. I tried to grab my head and cover my mouth, but my hands seemed to be twisted by some unknown force. They were moving, but not in the right direction.
My mother ran in at the scream, and when she saw me, she fainted. I walked to the mirror with a strange gait, jerking my head back and forth, and saw – oh, horror! – instead of myself in the mirror, there was a rooster the size of a man... I was scared! I rushed to the phone, somehow managed to pick up the receiver with my beak, and, pecking at the buttons, I dialed the number of an old friend. I tried to explain the situation to him, but all that came out of my throat was "Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cock-a-doodle-doo! Cluck-cluck-cluck!". My friend listened to this for about five minutes, then said briefly, "I'll be there soon, don't lock the door," and hung up...
Everything after that was like a fog. I remember trying to insert the key into the lock with my beak, how I clumsily opened the door, how my friend came in, immediately grabbed a bottle of beer, opened it, and said, "Come on! Drink it down! It will save you."
I woke up on the couch... in my own body. My friend was sitting next to me, sipping tea from a mug, and grinned, "So, how was it, being a rooster?" he asked. I tried to say something, but only a hoarse exhale came out.
"It will pass," my friend replied. "And you should stop going to the bars, let's go have a beer on a bench instead, the weather is nice. And throw away that Mishu Mavashi. I don't know what tells me, but it seems that this stuff was the catalyst for your 'roosterization'."
Following his advice, I threw all of Mavashi's CDs into the trash, put an old "Iron Maiden" CD into the computer, and, listening to that music, I put on my favorite jeans and a punk rock t-shirt.